Page 65 of Cartel Viper (The Cartel Brotherhood #2)
Chapter Thirty-Three
Javier
We made it back from Albany last night without incident.
I didn’t love having Maddy with us, but it wound up profitable.
The stuff in the safe was a windfall we already have out for distribution.
The money’s in our offshore accounts. We know the bratva did more than just steal a shit ton of money—though not as much as the street value of the stuff we took—they also ransacked several O’Sheehan establishments.
They took them down to the studs. It’ll be an expensive endeavor with a lot of scrambled answers and lies to explain what happened.
It pissed Maks off to discover their warehouse was gone, but he accepted our reprisal.
We worked together in Albany, but that’s only because we had separate tasks.
The truce was temporary. No one in my family is looking to be buddy-buddy with them, and the feeling is still mutual.
But those portions of the problem—the O’Sheehans and the bratva—are resolved.
It’s the Mancinellis who still need their asses handed to them.
I’m at Joaquin’s while he’s been digging to find out what the deal is.
As best we can tell, Marco wanted to expand the Mancinellis’ influence upstate because he’s in a snit over something Shane and Sean did.
The twins bought stock in a biotech company he wanted, then flipped their shares for a hefty profit, which is what Marco planned.
To get back at them, he wanted to give Drew a bigger share of the market.
He also wanted the Albany Italians to remember the Mancinellis are either with them or against them.
I don’t know what they did to piss off Salvatore—I couldn’t give a shit—but they’re against the Scarpacis right now.
“Do you know whether Marco was aware of Maddy?”
“As best I can tell, he knew there was a woman running drugs, but I don’t think he knew it was Madeline.”
“He knew there was a woman who could’ve been caught in the crossfire.”
“Yeah, but you know how that goes. They’re one step below female mercenaries who are completely fair game. We try to avoid the female mules, but they know the risks they take.”
He’s right, but I hate hearing it since it reminds me of how much danger Maddy faced.
I think she was only aware of the threat law enforcement posed.
I don’t think she fully realized she could’ve died at the hands of a rival, and it would’ve been deemed justifiable if it wasn’t just killing for the sake of killing.
That’s fine for a male mark, but women aren’t supposed to be targeted to send a point or for shits and giggles.
“So, you got nothing that links Marco to Maddy?”
“I might. Nothing I’ve found indicates Marco knew Madeline was involved with Drew. However, there is a text where Drew says ‘My girl’ll take it out there. She’s good. She knows what’ll happen if she fucks it up. She learned fast not to piss me off now that we live together.’”
“Marco still did fucking business with the malparido nero , even though he just confessed to abusing his girlfriend.”
There’s not an equivalent English word for malparido which means badly born. The closest is despicable. ?ero suits Drew since he was a lowlife criminal.
“We’ve been accused of a lot of shit over the years, hermanito , but we’ve never supported anyone we know abuses women. Marco turned a blind eye to it. What’re you going to do about it?”
Little brother. Joaquin’s called Jorge and me that since we were kids. He started after Mamá forbade him from calling us babies when we were each at an age where that word is super triggering. What toddler wants to be called a baby? Now, it’s said with affection.
“I have to tread carefully. He’s married to Laura’s best friend’s sister. That ties Elizabeth to Maddy. They’ve known each other since they were kids. I can’t do anything that might affect his wife.”
I think about it for a moment before I laugh.
“That fucker won’t have his new polo pony for the match next week. He’ll lose his ever-loving shit when I ride onto the field with it.”
As much as things change, they stay the same.
The O’Rourkes, Mancinellis, and los Diaz competed against each other in peewee and little league sports.
My brothers and I didn’t arrive in the States until we were too old for that, but we played club sports.
Since, in a fucked-up turn of events, we all went to high school together, many of us played on the same teams. Marco and I wrestled the same weight class, so we scrimmaged all the time.
Dumbass coach never took a hint what a bad idea that was.
We both started riding polo ponies when we were four.
We had polo mallets in our hands before we were seven.
I wound up joining the same polo club as him when we moved here.
We lasted a month on the same team. We bet each other who could score more in a game.
His ass wound up finding a new team after playing for the same club since he was in elementary school.
“That’s going to piss him off more than anything. He had that horse bred specifically for him, and he’s been waiting for it to be trained and ready for five years. Promise me, you save me the best seat!”
“Second best. I want Maddy to see me in all my glory. I gotta go. I have calls to make.”
“I’ll fucking kill you, motherfucker.”
“Good morning, Marco.”
My grin stretches ear to ear. Shit eating is what I heard it called when I moved here.
“That’s my fucking horse.”
“Mmm. No. I have papers that say otherwise.”
“Fucking forged ones.”
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law. My ass in this saddle on Mercury’s back says he’s mine.”
Mercury—the Roman god of several things, including thieves. Fucking poetic justice.
“I’m serious, Javier. Give me back my pony.”
I snort.
“Do you hear yourself. Do you know how ridiculous you sound at your age?”
I nudge the horse past him, tempted to take my foot out of the stirrup to kick him.
Too many people around for that. I make the horse practically prance before swinging out his hindquarters as I turn him around.
So far, he’s the best trained horse I’ve ever ridden.
We’ll see how he performs on the field, but just grooming, saddling, mounting, and now walking him tells me he’ll be excellent.
I smirk as I ride past Marco, who has no horse today.
He didn’t know he lost the trusty steed until he arrived.
He’d put a down payment on the horse, if you will, contingent on it being trained well enough to compete.
Before he made the final payment, I swooped in.
The bank draw was supposed to go through once Marco checked over the animal.
I went to the stables three days ago. Bribed the fuck out of the stablemaster to not say a damn thing about me looking at the horse.
Then I paid twice the agreed-upon price to the breeder.
It cost me half a million dollars, but I recently came into some money. Thank you, Drew. May you rest in hell.
We sent men to the cemetery to retrieve what Maddy buried.
I wouldn’t agree to her being somewhere so exposed.
We came home with that bounty too. It’s what paid for my new mount.
We definitely came out the winner that day.
Since getting back to New York, I’ve had a lengthy conversation with the Albany mob’s new leader.
Granted I had to wait until Dillan was done housebreaking him, but he understands Maddy is completely off limits.
He’s likely to always walk with a limp after I had his shin broken in three places with a hammer. Misery was such an inspiring movie.
I wave to Maddy as I ride onto the field.
Then I’m focused for the next two hours.
It’s a long game with seven chukkers—periods.
Mercury and I are exhausted, but we won.
It’s the cherry on top since I scored the most points.
Marco looks ready to murder me as Maddy showers me with kisses after cheering for me during the entire match.
Elizabeth looks nearly as pissed as Marco until she has to be gracious when they walk past Maddy and me.
She congratulates me with a grimace, but she’s genuinely warm to Maddy.
“Watching you ride that horse was exhilarating, Daddy.”
Maddy’s whispering in my ear as we walk to the clubhouse for the post-match celebration.
“Do you want to go for a ride?”
When our gazes meet, she knows I’m not talking about my horse.
“There’s definitely a stallion I plan to mount.” She waggles her eyebrows at me.
“ Chiquita , these bloody pants are too tight to make jokes like that around me.”
“Who’s kidding?”
“One glass of champagne, chiquita , then we’re leaving.”
“Party pooper.”
“You can award the winner at home.”
My hand slides low on her hip as I give it a squeeze. Her arm’s wrapped around my waist as she leans into me.
“To the victor goes the spoils, Daddy.”