Halloween Night

Les’s POV

This time, I’m not using the Reyes as the bait.

Ranger, or the possibility of Ranger’s appearance, is the bait.

The Miami men in the Trenton, Atlanta, Charlotte and Miami branches did an excellent job setting the trap. Ranger is rumored to be in one of three cities. In Philly, Ranger is meeting with Tomas and Cheeky, the Philly Inca. In Miami, he’s meeting with Danilo. In Charlotte, he’s meeting with Arturo. In Atlanta, Piman is meeting with his men in a warehouse in Doraville. Ranger will show later.

Tomas agreed to stay hidden for a night. So did Piman, Arturo, Danilo and Cheeky. Ranger is hidden in Orlando.

This will be the biggest bust yet.

---

“Levy.”

“Everyone here?”

“Yes, we’re all here.”

“Great. Everyone has their plan in place?”

Agreement from all the agents.

“Great. Good luck.”

“Wait,” Graham says. “That’s it?”

“Yes.” I wait a few moments. “Do you need something else?”

“Well, no, I guess not,” she replies.

“You don’t. You’re a damn good agent. All of you are. You don’t need my help. You know what to do. So do it.”

“Thanks.”

That’s said six times before the lines click. I kick back and smile.

Marsden, Graham, Johanssen, Lewis, Powell, and Stansfield. All six have flipped loyalty from White to me. More importantly, they’re working as a team.

The gossip is poisonous now. It’s out there among the government agents: White is possibly under investigation. Don’t engage when planning busts.

White is furious. His calls to his former protégés are by turns furious and curious. He’s desperate to find out who Levy is and uncover his identity. Johanssen and Marsden have taken point with everyone: No one speaks of Levy. No one even confirms or denies Levy’s involvement. Fryer is desperate to participate but he’s considered dirty. He knew the rules but he disobeyed a direct order from higher up. No one wants to work with him.

It’s great. My agents are so eager to continue to get the credit for their work that they aren’t acknowledging me or White. That’s perfect; exactly what I wanted.

Essentially, my part of the counter-op had a few objectives but the most important was to ensure that once White was taken down, the heads of each office still knew how to operate as a unit. With White micromanaging them and forcing them to request his blessing, their skills had gone soft. Me? I retrained them, put them back out there, and proved to them, each other, and their bosses that they didn’t need Levy or White in order to survive.

This bust will prove it.

---

I’m in Philly, watching quietly. Manny is with me. He’s headed to DC in a few days to finish the op while I head to Florida, then back home to Texas. He’s smiling.

“I hate you, sir.”

I grin. “Why?”

“Where were you when I was working Major Crimes?”

I shake my head. “Probably getting shot at in the Middle East.”

We both sober. “Good point.”

Graham and Powell, jointly, are working this one. Powell is the head of Philly and this is his first time out. He’s eager and he and Graham make a formidable team. The gossip says that Ranger will head to a local restaurant, sit, eat, and leave. He’s in disguise but he’s driving a blue Chrysler 300.

That just happens to be the car driven by the head of a rival gang who is also headed out tonight to conduct ‘business’. So, not only will they get MS-13 gang members, they’ll get Crips.

Ranger’s ability to look black or Latino, as the circumstances call for it, is a gift here. No one is questioning this. It’ll be a field day if it goes off right.

It does.

I watch as the joint task force surrounds the restaurant quietly. Inside, the regular staff has been replaced by a SWAT team. High ranking gang members rarely travel alone. So while they’re inside, arresting and interrogating the Crips, MS-13 is outside surrounding the restaurant, ready to do a drive by.

The restaurant door opens, SWAT appears with the Crips and the MS-13 members realize they’re in a trap. They try to flee but the flood lights illuminate and they’re surrounded. So while the first SWAT team secures the Crips, a second set of vehicles arrives to capture all the Sureños in the area.

Guns, drugs and gang paraphernalia. Powell and Graham are walking around like proud generals on the field and I’m grinning. My phone starts beeping.

Success. One message from Powell and another from Graham ten minutes later. Every ten minutes, another SMS arrives until all six agents are reporting total success. Meanwhile, Chase and Diego have both reported that the stings in Charlotte and Miami went off perfectly. I ring Adam in Atlanta.

“Adam?”

“I wish I were a cop again,” Adam says wistfully. Manny and I grin.

“Must be a cop thing. Manny’s got a hard on over here.”

Manny flips me off and Adam snickers. “I can’t wait to tell Ram that.” Click.

“And those two joke about the bromance between Hal and Danny,” Manny says, shaking his head. I’m about to die from not laughing. “Why didn’t Danny observe the Atlanta sting?”

“He’s out trick or treating with his kids and serving as a guard for Steph.”

“Ah …”

“Plus, Adam was an Atlanta cop. He’s tied into the cop network. He’d get the news faster than Danny. Adam and Chase were both Atlanta cops and Marcus was an MP. Danny’s entire top leadership is made up of law enforcement.”

“Right. Forgot about that.” He turns to me. “Steph is out?”

“Halloween.” Manny nods. “No force on earth was going to keep her indoors. Besides, Alejandro’s trick or treating for the very first time. Hec’s out too.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Manny asks, frowning.

I nod. “Yeah. Which is why we had to have a diversion in Atlanta. Just in case someone decided to go after Steph.”

“Which is why he’s the bait this time,” Manny says slowly, in wonder. He starts grinning again.

“Exactly. El Tigre or la Tigresa? They’d take him every time.” I turn to him. “I doubt they know she’s here but on the off chance they do, I’d rather keep them busy with a different bait.”

We watch Graham and Powell wrap up. Just as they hop into the car, I send my message.

Good job. You look like you had a lot of fun. Enjoy the rest of your evening. Trick or treat!

Both of them look at their phones, look at each other, and get out of the car. They look around in confusion before Graham shrugs and shakes her head.

We’ll never know exactly where you are, will we?

---

November 1st

Steph’s POV

I don’t know what Hector is up to, but he asked me, Nikki, and Mijo to stay at RangeMan Atlanta until he returns. Do not leave the building under any circumstances. They’re closing the net on the op.

Being told I can’t do something (ordered not to, really) automatically makes me want to do it anyway, but if they’re trying to finish the op, I’ll ignore that little voice in my head that says it’s time to go shoe shopping.

Nikki and I are both playing with Mijo and not discussing what’s going on. I know whatever it is, it’s big.

The purple, brown, blue, and green dots are all in Miami. The black dot is in Orlando. A new dot, teal, is in Washington, DC. I haven’t taken my eyes off Hector’s iPad yet.

Why are all the guys in Miami? What in the hell is going on? And who is teal?

---

Ranger’s POV

I’m ready to be done with this op. Morelli brought his man down before he had to go into hiding, so Knox and White are really the only ones left. Time to end this.

I started tailing Knox two weeks ago. He knows, or at least suspects, that he’s under watch, so he’s being very careful now. He’s barely talking to White anymore. He’s suspicious of any Latino he sees (oh, the irony. The head of Immigration in South Florida is nervous around Latinos) and he’s sent the family to Texas to vacation. Good. Time to close the noose.

Morelli and Sharon are doing a good job from Boston and we have enough to make the charges stick. RICO, CCE, multiple extortion and solicitation charges. Airtight and clean. I direct them to zip the file and send it to me. I review it and send it to Trent. Trent’s salivating over it.

Puppy.

While I’m following Knox, Les is sifting through everything coming over the wires from White. He and Hec have something going on and he says he’s ready to flip Damian.

Flip? I sigh. It’s Les. I trust him with my life. He’ll screw White in the end, I’m sure. I’m leaving that part up to him.

---

My first hint that something is off is the quiet. I’ve always had a sixth sense and I’ve trusted it, implicitly, since I was arrested as a juvie. That was the one time I ignored it and I learned from that.

I step out of my hotel room and the entire floor is quiet. Too quiet. In Orlando? At any hotel in Orlando? Fucking impossible, especially in October. I step back in, pack my computer, the cell phones, and my wallets in the computer bag. I pack my clothes and toiletries and open the door.

Still too quiet.

I dig the fabric mask out and quickly apply it. I grab my things and I move toward the stairwell. The feeling gets stronger. I reverse and hit the elevator. I hate elevators. Sitting duck. I get in and use my bypass key to override all stops and head directly to the garage in the basement. I put on a hat and gloves and think about personal items I might have left somewhere. The elevator stops and I run for the car, tossing my gear in the passenger seat, and hit the streets at 45 mph and rising.

Just in time.

Three men burst into the garage and immediately begin firing at the car. The back window on the passenger side shatters and I start weaving in the streets trying to evade additional fire.

The blown out back window is the key. Three more cars immediately pull behind me and I don’t have the time or the space to run evasion maneuvers. They’re firing and this is a rental, not a RangeMan car. No extra protections. Plus, I’m right next to Disney. Innocents could take fire.

The tire blows and I can barely keep control of the car. Instead, I swing the car around, perpendicular to my attackers, lower the passenger window and fire.

The windshield on car one immediately cracks and it goes into a tailspin. Car two hits it and I take the opportunity to blow out the windshield on that car. Pedestrians are screaming and running for cover so I’m sure the cops are on the way. You can get away with a lot in Orlando, but not near Disney and Epcot. I now have car three gaining, so I put my car back into gear and take off. With a blown tire, I can’t get too far but I can get far enough. I wait for the third car to get close then aim at the windshield.

Score! I take off because the occupants of cars one and two are now on foot and gaining. 20 mph in a car is still faster than what they can do on foot. I allow the car to swerve and jerk from side to side to avoid the bullets and only lose my rearview (Shit!) and side mirrors. I feel a pinch and a sting and immediately turn right at the next light. I go up ten blocks and over five, ditch the car, grab my gear and haul ass for ten more blocks.

I arrive at a roadside hotel three miles away. A Motel 6. It’ll do. I arrive hot, sweaty and annoyed but that doesn’t stop the front desk girl from trying to flirt with me. I check in under a different alias and call a taxi. I take a quick shower, change, and climb in the taxi.

I feel my phone buzz. Morelli.

“Yo.”

“Hey. What alias are you running around under? Mohammed something?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, your friendly neighborhood white supremacists think your alias is similar to something on a watch list. Sharon and I think they’re onto you.”

Are you fucking kidding me?! White supremacists nearly did me in thinking I’m Middle Eastern? Oh, the irony. I eye the beard in the cabbie’s review. “An hour late with that.”

“Fuck you too. Anyway, there’s a BOLO on StormWatch for you under the name Mohammed Siddiqui.” Fuck. That alias is dead. I’m down to my last alias. I’ll need to have Silvio make five more. I look for the fabric mask in my computer bag. I’ll need to put it back on. “Anyway, stay away from hotels, car rentals, and Tampa. They’ve called out everyone.”

“How did you pick up on that one?” It was damn good work. Good job, Morelli.

“Sharon.” Never mind. Good job, Sharon. “She keeps an eye on StormWatch. Southern cop and all. She calls it preventative detection.”

My respect and admiration for Sharon rises yet again.

“They posted a couple of pictures of you, calling you a ‘sneaky, terrorist asshole who needs to be “captured”‘. We saw that posting a few minutes ago, then someone posted you were in their hotel and they already had a group ready to ‘capture’ you.”

“Shit.” They moved fast.

“Yeah.”

“Anything else?”

“Knox just bought a ticket to Venezuela. Flight 2347 from Tampa.”

“Thanks.” Click. I check; six missed calls from him starting roughly around the time I was hauling ass from the garage. Well, thanks Morelli.

I call Trent.

“Sir?”

“Put Knox on a no-fly list. He’s trying to flee to Venezuela from Tampa. ”

“Yes, sir. Should we go ahead and arrest him?”

“Yes.” Click.

I lean back and the cabbie looks at me. “Where to?”

I’m thinking. “The airport.” He nods and I sit back and sigh mentally.

White supremacists with a bee in their bonnet, not gang leaders. I chuckle then laugh mentally. Too light for the blacks, too dark for the Latinos, too ‘other’ for the whites. I’m a fucking chameleon no one wants.

I use the cabbie’s rearview to check. Babe’s gonna wonder why I’m bullet grazed on the side of my neck.

---

Meanwhile

Lester’s POV

All Conversations in Spanish

I hope Bobby picked off enough insane elements of this plan for it to work. Even I’m not too sure about this one but I’m going to execute it anyway. What’s the worst that could happen, besides a complete bloodbath?

I’m sitting in the restaurant in Little Haiti waiting on Damian and Piman. Piman was not exactly thrilled about the possibility of an ambush, but I assured him I had enough firepower on the building to cover him. Besides, I’m in this damn building too. I’m not interested in dying.

Damian walks in first, clearly scouting for the guard, but his soldiers are with him and I nod at them to take a seat against the left wall. They sit on the right and I shrug. I don’t give a damn. Just sit.

Damian hasn’t changed since the last time I saw him. He’s 5’11”, a solid 160 of muscle, fully covered in tats from head to toe. Literally. They start right under his chin and nearly every inch of available skin is covered in skulls, guns, Catholic iconography, and Mara Salvatrucha. He’s deep in his set and reppin’ hard.

If it’s possible to give anger a face, Damian is it.

Damian sits across from me, staring coldly. “Lester. Where’s El Tigre?”

“Ranger. El Tigre was another life and he’s still overseas.”

He snorts. “Which is why I don’t respect culos like him. Your set is for life. He did a little time and dropped his flag.”

I stare at him. “He did time and decided that shit wasn’t for him. Result? He doesn’t fear cops. They fear him. You?” I snort then smirk. “DEA isn’t here. Neither is ATF, ICE, FBI, or any of the other agencies looking for your ass.”

The reminder of exactly how wanted he is proves unwelcome. His remaining men shift and stare, clearly thinking of trying to fuck me up, when my men walk through the door.

My partners, the men I trust most. Tank and Bobby, with some new additions, like Diego, Mario, Marcus and Maxwell. Mark, Cent, and James have helicopters ready to deploy at my signal, Mando’s heading an amphibious strike team and Ram’s set up, with ten additional men, as a sniper unit. The men inside line the walls, guns drawn and eyeing the Sureños. The Sureños are nervous now, wondering if this is a setup.

I smirk as Hec walks in. His name strikes more fear into everyone’s soul than mine does and he has two blades strapped to his back, two guns on his waist, and two knives strapped to his thighs. Even the MS-13 members against the wall still, involuntarily, in silent respect to him.

Hector’s ready to battle. This is very personal to him. He left Steph, Nikki and Mijo back in Atlanta under guard to come to this little summit and he’s determined that the threat will end one way or another before he walks out.

Damian turns to me. “The Asesino is here and I’m not supposed to think this is a trap?” He stands to leave and Hec stares at him.

“Sit.”

It becomes a staring contest before Damian sits. He’s been shamed in front of his men so Hector walks over and reaches his hand out to shake. Damian stares at him in disgust.

“I kill bumblebees.”

“Good thing there aren’t any in this building then, huh?” Hector answers smoothly. He pulls his hand back and sits. The Sureños make disgusted noises, so Damian’s regained face. “You need to let the gang shit go for this meeting. We called you here because we have a common enemy.”

Piman walks in at that moment, his soldiers with him. They take the seats on the left and Piman joins us at the table.

“Lester, we meet again.” I smile and we bump fists. He nods at Hector. “Hec, good to see you.”

Hec snorts. “Every time I see you, I end up getting shot at later. You are the harbinger of death for me.”

Piman laughs and we all relax. Damian is watching carefully so I turn to him.

“James White is not your ally. He is using your fear of Ranger as a weapon to screw you over. He intends to hand both you and Piman over to the authorities because it would ensure his promotion.”

Damian snorts. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Diego Mendoza, asshole,” Hector growls. “Don’t play stupid. We did our research.”

The entire room is silent as Hector and Damian stare at each other.

I hand Damian an iPod Shuffle and a pair of earphones. “Listen to tracks one and two right now.”

He stares at me, puts the headphones on, and hits play. I hand the other pair of headphones to Piman. The iPod has a headphone splitter so they can both listen to the same conversation at the same time.

Hec and Nate are fucking brilliant. While Ranger had White under surveillance, Nate was able to reverse engineer White’s personal cellphone and turn it into a recording device. Every time he was in DC, we were recording his ass. So tracks one and two are recordings of White’s meetings with the Attorney General, outlining what he wanted to do to bring down Ranger, Piman, Damian, and Hector. Since three of the targets are now around the table, and I’m representing Ranger, we should be able to come to a consensus on what to do with him.

A common danger unites even the bitterest enemies.—Aristotle

I’m watching Damian while pretending to watch the door. Correction: I’m watching Bobby, who is watching Damian and having a field day. He finally starts signing.

Pissed. Angry. Thinking. Defiant. Disbelief. Anger. Anger. Anger. Disbelief. Thinking. Remembering.

Good. He’s just where we want him.

Track two ends and I pause the recording and motion for Piman and Damian to take the headphones off. Piman’s clearly pissed.

“Trust a Sureño not to keep his word,” he mutters. He looks at Damian and smirks. “Say what you want but Reyes keep their word.”

I raise a hand to Piman and turn to Damian. “This shit is personal to everyone in this room. He’s your ally, your ‘friend’,”—I use the word mockingly—”and he’s got a sting going to lure your ass to prison. You don’t have to believe me. You don’t have to believe what you heard.

But consider this: What reason does he have to move against Ranger?” I lean forward, toward Damian, who has carefully blanked his face. “If his only targets were Piman and Hector, it would have been easier to find a way to force Ranger to accept a contract than to put together this elaborate plan. Instead, he has you and your soldiers here to do his work. That’s what the entire fucking FBI is for but he’s using you to do it.

You lost nearly 100 men last month on some bullshit. The arrests were all done by FBI and ICE agents. RangeMan wasn’t involved. How did he not know what was going down? He’s the gang specialist, the one they all call before they start planning big busts like what went down. His buddy is the ICE agent in charge of South Florida. He set your ass up, put you in a spot to get you and your men arrested, and when you talk to him about it, he’ll pretend ignorance.”

His men against the wall shift. Damian’s cold. I’m putting it out there that he may have fucked up. He’ll have to do something to remove the allegation that he fell for a trick.

Bet you wish you’d taken me at my word now, huh Damian?

“Ever since that bust, you’ve had busts in DC, Baltimore, Charlotte, Atlanta and down here. All areas run by men he trained, men who answer to him or his buddy in Tampa. All of a sudden, the men he trained in charge of the gang units are arresting gang members quicker than they can throw a hand sign. Not just Sureños, but Crips, Bloods, La Eme, everyone.”

I’m almost certain Piman is smirking inside. After years of constant harassment, the only group that hasn’t been touched is his men. I’ve warned him though that when this op is over, his men will become targets again. He knows it’s coming, but the temporary break was welcome.

“Gossip says you lost another 100 men last night. You’ve lost almost 300 men and for what? You got any proof that Ranger’s running this op? If Ranger were running this op, he would have returned to save La Tigresa by now, wouldn’t he? I mean, that’s his history, right? She’s in danger, he shows up to rescue her?”

He’s still staring at me, but I see Bobby signing Fury. Thinking. Thinking. Thinking.

Hector leans forward. “You keep going after la Tigresa. I’m getting involved now because she’s my partner. You’ve made the shit personal. Call off the blast on her and leave my son and cousin alone or I won’t leave anyone standing in any territory you control.” Hec sits back. “I’m not afraid of prison and I’m not afraid to die.”

I’m looking at Damian. Everyone knows that’s not an idle threat. Hec has 40 men to his name right now. It’s a death sentence for his men. Damian’s men look both frightened and pissed.

“We’re ready to take him down, too,” Piman says quietly. He’s staring at Damian, cold. “He’s bad for business and I’m a business, man.”

Everyone in the room snorts at the Jay-Z reference but there’s silent respect for Piman on that. Everyone knows Piman’s not a killer. He’s a businessman. Fuck. I wish there were some way he could go straight but he’s in too deep. He knows that, someday, he’ll die banging. He’ll either die or get put away for life.

I sit back and smirk. “You never needed White to consolidate territory. You could have done it without him. Trying to take Miami and the South is insane. Piman’s too well entrenched.” Piman smirks at this. “You have the West Coast and the mid-Atlantic, major territory of your own.”

I stand, so Damian, Piman and Hector do the same. After looking at me for a moment, Piman turns and motions for his men to leave. Only Danilo remains behind. All the Sureños and our men remain. Damian’s phone beeps and I hide a grin. That should be someone telling him that while he’s been sitting here listening to me, another raid captured more of his men.

That should tip him over the edge.

He looks up and smoothly blanks his face. His eyes, however, have rage burning deep within.

I step close to him so only he hears what I have to say. “Your ally is not your ally,” I tell him. “How many more men can you afford to have arrested by the FBI in another sting? Good luck with that.” I turn and walk off.

“Wait.” Damian walks over to me. “How did you find out it was him?” he asks quietly.

“No fury like a woman shot,” I reply. “Until that happened, we had no fucking idea what was going on. That’s when we started investigating. Come after her and the same applies. We will hit hard because she didn’t ask to be in the middle of his shit. She dumped him and he shot her. Why?”

Damian nods, cold. Hector is quickly surrounded by our men and he leaves, with Piman, Danilo and me right behind him. I leave Damian standing in the building with the iPod to decide what he’s going to do.

---

Damian’s POV

I watch Lester leave. If el Tigre is behind this, using Lester was smart. Everyone knows he’s not down. He’s neutral.

He’s Michael Corleone at Louis’ Restaurant, only he never excused himself to go get the gun from the toilet. He didn’t have to. I look down at the iPod in my hand.

He walked in with the fucking gun.

I signal my men to leave and scatter and they move out. I hop on my bike and quickly make my way to Hialeah and my girl’s house. I need to think on this.

If Diego is a traitor, he’ll die.

I went to that little summit only because Lester sent word through the channels that he was willing to pledge his personal honor on my safety. I could bring my soldiers if I felt his honor wasn’t enough. Fuck him; it wasn’t, but I see why La Eme said it would be safe. Our allies told me that there were Emes in RangeMan. We reached out to a few and I was assured that if Lester Santos had pledged his honor, it would be safe. He’s notorious for keeping his word.

So I went, more curious than anything else.

Moving into South Florida was Diego’s idea, not mine. Lester had a point: we reign in LA. We own the West Coast. I should spend more time in DC or Charlotte instead of here in Miami trying to overturn Piman. I’ve learned that Piman owns this fucking market and he’s taken over Atlanta.

Trying to undercut him is useless unless I plan to give my shit away for free.

Trying to take over with strong arm tactics is useless because his men are armed and dangerous. They don’t fear Sureños.

They fear him.

Drive-bys? Useless. We got hit back 3x as hard.

Executions? His men don’t work alone. Everyone has a partner. No one is out by themselves and they check in.

Trying to piss them off by boasting never worked. His men don’t get angry. They leave dead bodies for me to find and they don’t boast.

Piman’s trained his men to an almost military level. I actually admire the fucker’s style. Rumor has it that he and el Tigre are childhood friends. Well, that’s what Diego says. If that’s true, then el Tigre taught his boy a few tricks.

I sit back with my girls and play dollies for a while (the things you do as Daddy), then tell them to get cleaned up for dinner. Sonia is looking at me.

“Well?”

“I was told that Diego is not my ally.”

She snorts. She hates Diego. “I’m not surprised. This was a stupid move. The Reyes have this shit sewn up. Everywhere you go in this city you see fucking crowns. I’m tired of looking at bumblebees and Reinas. Those bitches are smug and I’m dying to pop off but I can’t. My girls aren’t here to back me.”

She goes to the kitchen to feed the girls and I roll my eyes. Sonia misses LA. She can’t wait to leave Miami. She’s sick of rain and Cubans.

I gotta admit, Lester raised some good questions. Why the fuck did he need his girl killed? He said it was because she’d figured out his identity but he also said his identity was known in the FBI. If it’s known, what’s the big deal that she found out? Was it really because she started fucking her ex a few days later?

That’s what brought RangeMan into this shit and that was a fucking mistake. Now they’re involved and that’s a serious problem.

I learned about RangeMan’s rep the moment I hit the East Coast. They’re considered neutrals by every gang. They’re headed by two bangers from opposite gangs and it’s known that el Tigre refuses to take contracts on gangs in the US. Bolivia? Mexico? The homeland? They’d love it if he had an ‘accident’, but he’s also considered a distasteful necessity.

If RangeMan changed policy and started taking DEA contracts, they could probably do what the US government can’t: Wipe out all the cartels. Those fuckers are trained and they’ll fight and die for el Tigre. He’ll hit us, and hit hard, until we’re all wiped out. So we leave him alone as long as he leaves the cartels alone.

The cartels? They’ll handle him themselves if he ever takes another contract down south. El Tigre is not invincible. He’s a mortal man, like us all. He’s not the only man with a sniper in his employ.

I have dinner with my girls, tuck them in bed, and kick back in the dining room and listen to the rest of the recordings. I know it’s Diego’s voice. I know the way he speaks in English and Spanish. I’m rolling my eyes at RangeMan. They included taped conversations between me and Diego, so now I know they’re taping my ass.

These recordings could be faked but why would they bother? I know Diego. I could always take him these tapes and let him explain. So they have no incentive to lie to me about it unless . . . unless el Tigre is stateside and they need to hide his ass. Breaking me and Diego would do it.

It does raise a good question: what the fuck does RangeMan get from this? Why tell me I have an enemy? I’m no friend to them. Piman is their boy, not me, and, if anything, I should be their enemy. I’ve spent months fucking with Piman and his men, trying to take him down. So why invite me to that little ‘peace summit’?

Is it really about the woman? Or . . . have they accepted a contract to go after Diego? That’s more likely. If they took a contract to go after him, then it makes sense to break me and Diego first. Make sure he doesn’t have any allies. Smart move; Diego and I jumped in together. I’d protect my boy.

Then again, I’ve lost 305 men in raids conducted by men trained by him. Everyone wants an explanation for that shit and I don’t have one. Diego swears there’s a leak somewhere but who the fuck is leaking? It’s his men. He trained every single one of them. If RangeMan is involved, then why aren’t our maras in Texas getting arrested?

My ass is on the line because it’s my men getting arrested. They’re pissed and they’re talking to our men in lockup. The news is getting back to the West Coast and the questions are getting more pointed. My rep was ice-cold because my men didn’t get arrested. You had to really fuck up to get arrested under me in Cali. I move to the East Coast and I start losing men faster than I can piss!

It’s killing me. I don’t have enough men to move product, I don’t have enough to take over my assigned area, and I don’t have enough men to establish dominance. My men with me today now wonder if I’ve been deceived and that’s dangerous for me. It means they won’t accept my orders without wondering if they’ll end up getting arrested.

My once-perfect reputation is dead. I’m considered a fucking idiot, not smart enough to run the South. Not smart enough to take down the enemy. Not smart enough to move product, even when given a perfect territory, political cover, and plenty of men.

Not smart enough to realize I had a traitor in my midst.

And I found out that I lost another 20 men while I was sitting in that restaurant listening to Lester. My backers will want to ‘speak’ to me. Soon. The only way I save my ass now is to uncover the leak and, thanks to Lester, I have a way to save my ass.

I should have trusted Lester’s promise. If I’d left my guard, they’d never know that I might have been deceived.

If these tapes are true, they’re telling me now: you are working with a traitor. RangeMan will move to protect the Asesino and el Tigre. They’ll put the company on the line to protect them. Piman? Maybe, maybe not. Piman’s not their boy. He’s el Tigre’s friend, clearly Lester’s friend and well known to the Asesino, but he’s not a RangeMan. They’re not going to put the company on the line to protect a banger and every time Piman’s been arrested, his expensive lawyers get him off.

The only thing Diego’s been able to prove that el Tigre provides his boy is a refusal to take contracts on him. Piman has no official support, no one covering his tracks.

I do and he’s shit.

Lester Santos has pledged to take a contract to bring my ass in if I keep hitting La Tigresa. There’s the pleasure of fucking over El Tigre and the Asesino versus having Lester chasing my ass. I don’t know about Lester’s rep but I don’t need to know. He’s a RangeMan. He’ll pull RangeMan into this shit. I demonstrated that today. He had serious firepower in that room for a ‘meeting’.

I don’t need that headache.

Pissing off the Asesino versus having him fucking up my men?

Inciting an all-out gang war with the Reyes versus consolidating what I have in an area I already control?

I’ll pass. Like Piman, I’m a businessman at heart and business is bad right now. Chasing her has more disadvantages than advantages. Besides, I bet I have a price on my head at this point. Time for me to be smart about this. El Tigre is Diego’s beef, not mine. I’m not fighting his battle anymore. Fuck him. He wants to take that fucker down, he’ll do it with the FB motherfucking I. Not me.

So I know that these recordings are absolutely true. Diego’s a traitor. He will die.