Cadillac Payback: Rising Tide by AJ Elmore (grave mercy .TXT) 📗

Silence falls and swirls. Mona is studying the menu, but I can tell she’s waiting for his reply. Jorge glances at her and wets his lips with his tongue.

He says, “With all due respect, that’s how buying in bulk works. We are not a patient coming to your office.”

Mona stiffens. I can feel it, rather than to turn to look at her. I won’t look anywhere but Jorge, now that the game is on. I won’t make a move that will give the impression that I am intimidated.

I say, “Of course, and for that same reason, there is considerable risk for my client to sell this way.”

I say client like they’re paying me. We all know it’s bullshit, a straight up contrived farce. But it sounds good.

The server returns, dutifully pouring Mona’s Prosecco, then presenting my beer, and the tea. She asks Mona if we’re ready to order. Mona says we are without asking anyone else. She orders some ridiculous fancy salad.

The first thing I see when I look down is a filet mignon with an exorbitant price tag. I order that, rare. It probably comes with two green beans and a cheffed-up potato wedge. Fuck it, I’m not paying.

Lucas and Jorge order. Freddy declines. The server leaves. I take a sip of beer as the energy settles back down.

Then I say, “We must also take into consideration that street prices for this product are much higher than pharmacy prices, and that you stand to make quite a lot of money.”

Listen to me, sounding like I actually give a fuck about “my client’s” money. I bet Abuela didn’t expect me to advocate a higher price for her.

Jorge says, “That is true. However, the risk runs a lot higher for us transporting product across state lines at twice the rate of our current supply.”

Realization hits me like a train. Outwardly, I’m a rock. Internally, I’m kicking myself for not seeing it sooner. Their current supply is cheaply produced in Mexico, and smuggled across the border – also cheaply, because smugglers are a dime a dozen, and nobody cares if they die in the process. If Abuela is trying to find a supplier stateside, she’s either about to pull some sneaky shit, or make a break from el patron.

My mouth has gone dry, so I take another drink of beer, deeper this time.

Then I say, “State lines seem to be a risk you’re willing to take to avoid international borders.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Freddy’s eyes snap to me, and I know my shot in the dark isn’t too far off target. Jorge’s lips thin to a line, and instead of pretending not to pay attention, Mona’s eyes are slowly going from me to Jorge. Maybe she didn’t expect me to be aggressive. Or maybe she didn’t think I would actually negotiate for her. Either way, her surprise is palpable, as much as the tension strung between Jorge and me.

The way I see it, Abuela is the one who brought me kicking and screaming into this, so if I can stick it to her by setting her cost higher, I will goddamned do that. I don’t even care if it benefits Carlo and company, even though I hate them even more.

There’s a knock, and the server is back with a tray and a jack. The conversation stalls. If this lady is as seasoned as she seems, she can tell this isn’t a happy meeting.

She deals our food like a pit boss with a deck of cards. I’m the only one who says thank you. She waits for me to cut into my filet to check the temp. It’s good, so she leaves.

The meat practically melts against my tongue, as I wait for Jorge to rally from my last point. I study the plate rather than seem like I’m waiting. Three stalks of asparagus with grill marks on them, and a couple ounces of mashed potatoes. I was close.

Beside me, Mona picks around at her salad. In front of me, Jorge takes a bite, but it’s a mechanical move. Lucas eats like the teenager everyone has been ignoring.

I glance up at Freddy. He’s already looking at me. The contact is heavy. He makes the most minuscule nod, I’d question if it was a nod if I didn’t know him. Why would he give me an affirmation?

Then I remember a moment at Abuela’s plantation when he didn’t know I was listening, when he made a strong case against Abuela’s cruelty. Could it be that he’s reached his breaking point as well?

By the time Jorge looks back to me, I’m watching him expectantly. It occurs to me that Abuela might bury me for this, and I don’t even fucking care. She cornered me, what the fuck did she expect?

“I will reassess the offer,” Jorge says with an expression like his food doesn’t taste good.

Somehow I doubt it’s the food.

By now, my meager plate is nearly empty. Mona isn’t really eating. Fuck Lucas. I know she arranged payment when the reservation was made, so we’re free to leave as we please.

I drain the rest of my beer, and say, “Let me know when you’re ready to talk again.”

I drop my napkin in my plate and stand. Fuck Mona, too. She can either follow my lead or stay.

“Good day,” I say and turn toward the door.

Moments later, Mona and Lucas are on my heels. As I stalk out of the restaurant ahead of them, a private smile takes me. The tide is rising, and the hook is baited.

Chapter 28 Silent Storm

Maria

I startle awake to a gentle touch on my arm. It takes a minute for everything to come into focus. When it does, I lock onto Noah’s soulful brown eyes.

“He’s awake,” he says softly.

My eyes fly wide, and I bolt out of the chair. That’s when I notice a blonde nurse in scrubs standing