The Sweetest Kill (Morales' Cartel #1)

|The beginning|

//Song-- Crossfire by Stephen

T H R E E Y E A R S L A T E R

1 9 8 9,

M A Z A T A L A N,

M E X I C O,

The loud creek rumbled beneath the hurried footsteps and a wild bang of the door followed. Striding towards the desk, Hunter grabbed the collar with both hands and hoisted the man behind it. Leaning his face closer, he gave the man a menacing glare, the intense beam only burned further when he earned a smirk. Feeling the press of muzzle of metal, Hunter gritted his teeth and flung the man in hand back on the chair.

"You look quite angry." Mateo grinned. Placing his elbows on the desk, he rested his chin on the knuckles.

Snarling at him, Hunter slammed his hands on the desk and bit out, "No te metas conmigo."

He didn't need to turn around to see Mateo's puppies coming forward to throw him out when Mateo raised his palms, "I got this."

A muscle twitched in Hunter's jaw and he snapped, "You told me it would be my last job and I will be done with all this bullshit. You promised me you will give me my sister back," after a short laboured intake of breath, he continued, "now tell me where in the world is my sister? Because jurar por Dios! I am close to bursting my brains out."

Seemingly unfazed, except for that sardonic grin, Mateo scratched his temple, and said, "You know what your problem is Hunter? You are too emotional, too passionate and too raw. Channel this energy into the right path, and maybe you can take us to a new height."

Hunter gripped the edge of the table tightly until his knuckles turned white. Tilting his head a bit down, he counted to ten and took deep breaths. Nothing happened. The scanted patience boiled down to zero instead. Glaring at him, Hunter spoke in a low but audible voice, "Quit being a wannabe teacher already. Just tell me where the hell is my sister?"

"Never let the enemy know your appetite no matter how much hungry you are because he will starve you to death once realizes your desperation."

"Desperation, appetite, death. . .," Hunter straightened his back and chuckled darkly, "Margarita killed me for the first time when I was forced to do my first kill, and then you motherfuckers kept killing me. You were killing a dead corpse all this time but then again you killed me again when you sold my sister. So, Mateo, this is the last time I am asking where--"

"Or, you will do what?" Mateo stood up and lazily walked to Hunter. Tilting his chin over, he looked up. "You can do what, Hunter? You don't where is she, which city, which country? Hell! You don't even know which continent. One call from me and she is dead or worst sold to the deadliest person."

Hunter stared at the 5 foot 4 inch man in front of him. A shaved head,
potbelly, bulbous nose might not do justice to the image of the most feared man in the whole of Mexico, or even the whole of North and South America. But Mateo was larger than life, the most ruthless, manipulative, and brutal gangster in history. He was in fact one of the wealthiest people in the world. An escapee, money launderer, murder, weapon and drug trafficker, briber, part-time human trafficker, kidnapper, don of the organised crime, and it goes on and on. A book of thousands of pages would end but his list of crimes would not. Police feared him, the law walked past him, judiciary ignored him. In a span of twenty-seven years, he had created an image that would require another hundred decades to forget his last name. All this by a 5 foot 4 inch man alone.

Mateo Morales, the name was alone to make to a giant piss in his pants. When a bounty of 4 million US dollars was put on his head, Mateo felt insulted. Said, the police was stingy when it came to fugitives and he was worth a lot more than measly 4 million US dollars. Hunter had heard some tales. They said, he had an inspiring rag to riches story in his pocket. That his family was abusive or some shit.