Page 20 of Echoes and Oaths (Guardian Security Dynasty #4)

As one, the men seemed to back off. Hands moved away from weapons, and tension eased. Jinx’s gaze narrowed on the young man in front of him .

“I know you,” Jinx said finally. “You were a messenger when I left.”

The man straightened his shoulders, puffing up like he wanted to prove himself. “That’s right. My name’s Diego. I’m an enforcer now.” His fingers hovered near the weapons strapped at his waist as if Jinx couldn’t tell who he was pretending to be.

Jinx stepped back toward the bar, holstered one of his revolvers, and reached for his half-finished beer. He took a long, casual sip, then nodded toward the bodies cooling on the tile floor.

“Get your trash out of here.”

Diego repeated the command without hesitation, and the others moved quickly, almost too quickly, dragging their fallen companions out the door.

Jinx watched and noted each man’s face. The one who’d talked to Eira yesterday wasn’t present.

Several older men were missing from what he could see, but then again, so was an SUV.

They were probably going to get Ortega’s dog from Eira.

He thanked God that Raven was there. Not that he doubted Eira could take care of herself, but Raven would ensure she wouldn’t have to do so.

Jinx pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and dropped it on the bar without looking at the woman behind it. “For your troubles. And the cleanup. ”

The woman didn’t say a word. She took the money and wiped the stained countertop, her gaze flicking nervously toward the door as if she were expecting someone else.

He was, too. The third SUV hadn’t arrived and with all the junior people in this bar now, the older, more deadly people had yet to make their presence known.

Diego lingered beside Jinx, voice low. “Where’ve you been, man?”

Jinx cast him a sideways glance, his mouth twisting into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Other countries. Other wars.”

The man’s expression tightened. “Ortega will want to see you. Maybe bring you into the fold. You’d be one hell of an asset.”

“Ortega?” Jinx snorted, the sound more lethal than amused.

Diego nodded slowly. “He’s El Jefe now.”

Jinx watched as the remaining cartel men quietly claimed their seats, their bravado stripped bare.

None of them moved fast. None of them reached for weapons.

That might’ve had something to do with the revolver still resting loose and easy in his hand.

One held a cell phone and was pointing it toward him.

He lifted his automatic. “Delete the fucking picture now, or I’ll do it after you’re dead. ”

The man dropped the phone, and it clattered on the wooden tabletop. The guilty look and hard swallow that followed told Jinx he’d been right. “I said delete the fucker.”

“Andres, give me the phone,” Diego said, walking across the room to snatch the phone away.

“I’ve warned all of you. This man will kill you, and he won’t lose any sleep doing it.

” The man held up the phone so Jinx could see it as he deleted the picture of him.

“Done.” He tossed the phone back. “I’m done trying to keep your asses alive. ”

Diego walked back to him and leaned against the bar, facing away from his coworkers.

“How’d Ortega become king?” Jinx asked.

“It was a bad war, man,” the enforcer replied. “Lots of killing. Somehow, Ortega came out on top.”

“Yeah?” Jinx’s tone dripped with disbelief. “And who funded his ass? No one I knew would’ve backed him.”

The man’s eyes darted around, checking if anyone had overheard. He edged closer, lowering his voice. “Mateo, don’t start that. Not here. I’ll talk to you later when nobody’s around. Don’t trust anyone.” The kid lifted his fingers, and the woman returned, handing him a beer.

Jinx fought the urge to roll his eyes. It hadn’t taken long for Ortega’s men to start turning on him. That was the thing about tyrants, they never inspired loyalty.

He shifted, watched the woman leave, and kept his voice low and quiet. “What about the faction in the low foothills?”

The enforcer damn near jumped out of his skin, grabbing the glass he’d almost knocked over. Damn, did that hit a nerve? Diego swallowed hard and shook his head. “I don’t know anything about them.”

The answer came too quickly, too defensively.

Jinx sneered to himself, sharp and discerning.

The kid knew more than he was revealing.

Things were stirring beneath the surface.

Alliances, betrayals, secrets that hadn’t yet seen the light of day.

The environment remained the same. The players had changed, but Jinx would uncover the answers he sought. It was merely a matter of time.

Within thirty minutes, the third black SUV rumbled to a stop in front of the cantina.

There were no revving engines, no laughter, no shouting that time. The doors opened and closed silently. They were sharp, efficient sounds that carried weight. Three men entered the dim, sweltering bar, their steps measured and deliberate.

Trailing them on a taut leash was the Malinois that had been recovering at Eira’s.

The sleek, muscular dog’s sharp eyes scanned the room like a soldier trained for war.

The scrappy stray that had claimed Jinx earlier skittered toward the back of the cantina, tail tucked tight, sensing trouble and wanting no part of it.

The man in the middle peeled off his sunglasses with slow precision. His gaze swept the room once before locking onto Jinx like a laser sight.

That one, Jinx knew.

Simón.

They’d worked together in Montoya’s cartel. Simón was a bloodthirsty, batshit crazy bastard and, ironically, one of the few men Jinx knew who hated Ortega more than he did.

The man at Simón’s left was the bastard who’d threatened Eira.

And the third…Jinx’s gaze flicked to him. That was the driver Eira had asked to bring the poisoned Malinois to her hospital. Jinx knew all of them. Knew what they were capable of and what atrocities they’d committed. Brando’s intel had painted a clear picture.

Simón didn’t waste time. His sharp voice cut across the quiet like a blade. “What the fuck did they do, and why did you kill them? ”

The question was directed squarely at Jinx.

Still hovering near him at the bar, Diego started to speak, but Jinx halted him with a glance and a slight shake of his head.

“They were stupid in public. You found out quickly.” Jinx said coolly. “Isn’t that still a death sentence around here?”

Simón’s eyebrows rose, and a slow, dangerous smile crept across his face. “Fuckers are laid out on the street. Kind of obvious. Everyone said you were dead.”

“Everyone was wrong. Again.” Jinx took another sip of his beer, letting the statement hang heavy between them. “You aren’t training your men to use their manners.”

Simón snorted, shaking his head, and strode to the bar with the Malinois at his side.

“Beer,” he barked at the woman, who hustled to comply.

He turned back to Jinx, one brow lifted.

“It ain’t my job to train them. And who the fuck uses manners anymore?

” His eyes flicked to Diego. “Give us some space.”

Diego moved quickly without question, wisely fading back toward the far wall.

The Malinois sat obediently at Simón’s side but stared unblinkingly at Jinx. Its muscles were tight, poised. Jinx slowly extended his hand.

The dog leaned forward, sniffed, then licked his fingers.

Simón’s laugh was a rough bark of sound. “Fuck, man. I would’ve bet a hundred American dollars that bastard would’ve taken your hand off instead of licking it.”

“I’ve got an affinity for animals,” Jinx murmured, scratching behind the dog’s ear before shifting his attention back to Simón. “You one of Ortega’s officers now?”

Simón rolled his eyes and grunted. “Pretty fucking obvious. Did you get dumber while you were gone?”

“No. Richer,” Jinx replied without missing a beat. “But I’ve got unfinished business here.”

Simón’s eyes gleamed darkly. “Eira. And your bastard.”

The smile slid clean off Jinx’s face. He straightened, the sharp edges of his posture radiating lethal energy.

His voice dropped low, a blade in the air.

“If her name comes out of your mouth again, I’ll cut your tongue out, cook it, and eat it.

” It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise. Jinx closed the distance between them in a blink, their faces inches apart, the tension in the cantina so thick it could’ve been cut with a knife.

The air felt heavier than the suffocating Venezuelan humidity pressing against the cracked plaster walls.

Simón let out a sharp, dry laugh and took a long drink of his beer, unfazed. When he set the glass down, he shook his head. “There’s the cold-hearted bastard I knew. Thought maybe you’d gone all soft and squishy on us. How the hell did we not know you were fucking her?”

“What I do, or don’t do, isn’t your business,” Jinx shot back. Every muscle in his body vibrated with the need to put Simón on the floor, but he forced himself to stay still. He needed this man as an ally, not a corpse.

Simón’s gaze shifted, voice dropping low again.

“Well, your business didn’t used to be my concern.

Now, it is. She told me you were back. Now I have to fucking tell the spineless bastard I work for.

” His words slowed, each one a loaded bullet.

“Ortega wants your woman. She’s held him off so far, but he’s … anxious to have her.”

Jinx’s blood froze in his veins. He turned his head slowly, very slowly, to look at Simón. His voice came out like death itself. “That will end in Ortega’s death. ”

Simón said nothing, taking another long pull from his beer. He stared out the dirty window behind the bar as if he hadn’t just delivered his boss’s death sentence.

“How did he take the helm?” Jinx asked just as quietly.

Simón shrugged one shoulder. “No idea. He’s keeping it with money. Lots of money.”

“Loyalty?” Jinx asked quietly, taking another sip of his warm beer. The Malinois leaned subtly against his leg like it sensed the storm brewing.

Simón chuckled darkly. “About as loyal as that fucking dog.”

Jinx’s gaze flicked to the group in the far corner of the cantina.

The cartel’s low-level enforcers pretending to mind their own business, but their eyes tracking every movement.

They couldn’t hear the conversation. No one could, except Brando, and no doubt it was being recorded to be dissected after Jinx finished.

“So, the military faction will be taking over soon,” Jinx said flatly. It wasn’t a question.

“Not so sure about that,” Simón murmured, his gaze cutting sideways toward him. “Be careful, Mateo. There’s shit happening around here that I don’t understand. There’s someone else, and I have no idea who the fuck it is.”

“The military assholes.” Jinx filled in the name of the entity.

Simón glanced around. “Not them. Something is brewing.” He glanced at Jinx. “Are you staying at Eira’s?”

His defenses flared again. “I am. Why?”

Simón lowered his voice even further. “We need to talk.”

Jinx nodded. “Where?”

Simón drew a deep breath. “Meet me at the abandoned farm west of Eira’s tomorrow night. I won’t be missed for a while. They’ll think I’m fucking my woman.”

“You have a woman.” Jinx leaned forward. “Are you going to take her out of here?”

“I’m working on it. If she disappears, it’ll be noticed.

But I have to figure something out. I’m not sure any of us will be alive this time next year.

” Simón held his beer in front of his lips as he continued in a whisper, “You picked the wrong time to come back, my friend.” He finished his drink before pushing off the bar and tugging on the Malinois’s leash, guiding the dog away from Jinx.

Before Simón reached the door, he glanced back over his shoulder. His voice was sharp and clear, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

“This man is off limits. You fuck with him, you answer to me. That is, if he doesn’t kill you first.”

The weight of the statement settled over the room like a cloud.

It shocked the hell out of Jinx, and judging by the stiffening of shoulders and the glances traded among Ortega’s enforcers, it had rattled them, too.

They shifted uneasily, casting nervous looks between Simón and Jinx like they weren’t sure which one of them had just become more dangerous.

Across the room, Diego met Jinx’s gaze but didn’t move to approach. Smart kid. Smarter than Jinx had initially given him credit for.

Simón’s warning had just bought Jinx something unexpected.

Protection from Ortega’s officers. And that was a double-edged blade. It might keep some cartel dogs off his back in the short term, but it also tangled him tighter into their web. Yet it was a snare that could unravel everything he was trying to do.

He took a slow sip of his beer, scanning the room, memorizing every face, every reaction.

The whisper network would already be spinning.

By nightfall, the entire area would know he was back, alive, and under Simón’s protection.

And once the military faction caught wind of it … well, they’d reach out.

And if they didn’t?

He’d make sure they had no choice.

The weight of the room pressed on him, the stale air heavy with sweat, smoke, and barely concealed fear. Brando’s voice crackled in his ear, dry and laced with dark humor. “Can’t we just take a bomb and blow up the military assholes? Let God sort them out.”

It took everything Jinx had not to smile at Brando’s feigned exhaustion. Instead, he dipped his head slightly, speaking low into the mouth of his beer glass.

“Not certain, but I don’t think He wants to deal with them either.”

However, a move that grand would shake the entire region to its core. It could be useful if things didn’t pan out the way he anticipated. A statement. Jinx was already calculating how best to do exactly that.