Malo - Page 58

“You know who I am,” he says in a haughty, taunting tone. There’s a bristle of anger around the group. None of us like hearing Beast talked to like that. He deserves respect, but it’s never going to come from the cartel.

“Your name,” Beast growls. “Now.”

Fenix glances around all of us, clearly calculating his chances of getting away with just denying the request, but, when he sees our glowering faces, he thinks better of it. He rolls his shoulders back, and locks his eyes on Beast.

“Fenix,” he replies. “I work for El Serpiente. And I’m here to offer you a deal.”

A deal? A murmur runs through our small group when he says those words. This could be good—a sign that the cartel is already willing to back down and give us what we want—or it could be really, really bad.

“I’m listening,” Beast replies, which surprises me. Working with the cartel? Surely, he’d never even entertain the idea. But, as I glance over at him, I can see that fire in his eyes, the fury that tells me he’s not going to let them take control that easily.

Fenix flicks his tongue over his lips, grins, and takes another step forward. Sin reaches for his gun, as do the others around us. Beast lifts a hand, calming us, silently telling us that he has this under control.

I pray to God he does. Because if this goes south…

I push the thought down. I can’t even let that cross my mind.

“Here’s the deal,” Fenix begins. He’s clearly enjoying having our attention like this, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me that we were handing over the stage to him so easily. He looks confident, as though he knows we’re going to take this, before the words have even left his mouth.

“We’ll leave Houston,” he continues. “Take all of Las Rosas Negras out of the city. Wipe every trace of us off the map. If…”

He pauses for dramatic effect. He’s enjoying this, I can see it written all over his face. This is some kind of game to him.

“If you can get your man in the sheriff’s department to look the other way on our, uh, importing business,” he finishes up. I grit my teeth when I hear those words come out of his mouth. Importing? Is that what he wants to call it? Talking about all of this as though he’s moving some bootleg TVs over the border, and not actual people?

My mind fills with the memory of what I saw in that barn when I followed Chuy out of the village that one fateful day, the smell of blood in the air, the cries for help from the women and children bound to the walls like animals, like cattle. That’s what he’s asking us to look the other way on. And if he thinks Rebel is going to pretend like he doesn’t see that, he’s got another thing coming. Let alone Beast…

“Get him to drop any investigation, and make sure there are no other agencies looking to pick it up after that,” he continues. “It’s done. Nobody pursuing it. That’s what we want in exchange for getting out of Houston.”

He lets the words hang in the air for a long moment. I glance over at Beast, expecting him to laugh in his face. After all the shit the cartel has put us through, put Bella and Harley through, he’s not even going to entertain this idea, is he?

But, to my surprise, he tilts his head back. He doesn’t move his gaze from Fenix as he speaks again. “I need some time to consider that.”

I stare at him, gob smacked. No way am I hearing him right—no fucking way. Because the Beast that I know would never let these assholes dictate how this is going to go to him, not a chance in hell.

The Beast that I know, I remind myself, is clever. And if he’s playing along with this right now, it’s because he thinks there’s something to be gotten out of this offer. It might not be clear to me now, but he thinks bigger than I do. He sees the bigger picture, knows more than I ever could. And, while this doesn’t make a single lick of fucking sense to me, I have to trust him.

God knows he’s given me the benefit of the doubt more times than I would care to count.

“It’s one fucking hell of an ask,” he adds, and the venom is his voice, for a split second, is clear. Fenix eyes him. The air feels thick with tension, as though any of us might go for our guns at any moment. I grit my teeth, scanning the space behind him. I still don’t trust that the cartel hasn’t got a stack of men here ready to pounce on us the moment they get the chance, sending in their guy first to try and throw us off the scent of anything more serious.

“Not much to get us out of your hair,” he replies, raising his eyebrows pointedly. “Think about it. You never have to deal with us again. That doesn’t sound good to you?”

Beast doesn’t break eye contact with Fenix for a moment. I can tell all the horrors the cartel has inflicted on the people close to him are playing through his mind, all the shit they’ve done to the Kings, to the people we’ve set out to protect. For them to send someone here and ask for this shit, it’s fucking insulting, and they know it. They know what they’re doing, and they know Beast is never, in a million years, going to agree.

But we also know, clear as day, that the cartel has some serious firepower to their name, and we don’t know exactly how far that might stretch. The Desperados have already been exposed as their allies. Who else might be playing their corner? Who can we trust?

“I want time,” Beast tells him, meeting his gaze steadily.

Fenix pauses, then shrugs. “Twenty-four hours,” he replies. “It’s a short-time offer. Make your mind up by then, Beast.”

He turns and walks off, and there is a deafening silence around the compound. It’s as though everyone is holding their breath, waiting for Beast to say something, to explain what the fuck is going on and why he just seems to have entertained an offer laid down by the cartel.

Beast stares straight ahead until Fenix is out of sight, and then, he brakes into action. He turns to Sin.

“Get one of our men,” he orders. “Tell him to get on Fenix’s tail, now. I want to know where he’s staying and if he’s brought anyone else out here with him. We need to know what we’re dealing with here.”

“On it, boss,” Sin replies, and he dives back inside the house. I hear him calling for Q, he’s perfect for the job, silent on his feet and as mysterious as they come.