His Indulgence || Book Two

Formulating a Plan

Eric POV:

Tension filled the room as I waited for Santiago to respond. A moment later, he finally blurted out, "The plan is simple," he glowered at me with a narrow-eyed look. "All you have to do is walk in the hornets nest, make the trade, collect the money, and walk right out. I'm the one actually getting my hands dirty." Acid bled into his tone.

That last line did it for me. I felt a dangerous glint flash across my eyes and my body revved up for a fight, "What the hell is the matter with you? Why are you acting so bitter?" Then, the only logical reason shot through my mind. I lowered my voice, this time it was cautious. "Are you angry because I left?"

His face twitched in annoyance and irritation. "No. If anything— I'm mad that you returned."

I let out a laugh without humor, "Oh, really? And why is that?"

Santiago's jaw clenched so tight, I almost thought he'd snapped it. "You weren't there to see the hurt you caused Danica. You weren't there every day to see her starve herself to depression. You didn't have to hear her pour her heart out each night because of you. You didn't even bother calling to ask if she was okay. But I was. And for you to just step back in her life as if nothing ever happened, as if all those nights of her sheer hopelessness and despair never happened, well it's unreasonable. At least if you were gone, she'd eventually move on."

He somewhat had a fair point. It was an evil thing to do— even for me. In spite of my body's rampant desire to choke him, and it was still there believe me, I suddenly had a startling, vivid image of Danica weeping. The sounds stung me more than the bullet I had endured back in Oregon.

We locked our hard gazes, and a thousand wrathful messages seemed to flow between us.

"Whatever you have against me, put it aside for a moment and work with me here. I'm not paying you for nothing."

He snorted, speaking under his breath. He clearly was speaking to himself, but I could just barely make out what he said. "I should get a raise considering all the shit you put me through."

Hastily, I stormed away before I'd say something I would regret. I had to shrug it off, because those who were unprofessional and sloppy— were always killed quickly, and I didn't want to be a part of that category.

Some of our flight time took place in the late afternoon, which meant it was night when we landed in Las Vegas. I was surprised to see how crowded the airport was. The landing strip was overloaded with little jets, nearly all of them screaming luxury, as mine did. I wasn't very shocked. Vegas had been the playground of celebrities and other wealthy people, many of who just couldn't lower themselves to fly commercial with ordinary passengers.

I didn't mind flying in a commercial plane, but today I didn't really have much choice. I had boxes filled with weapons. I knew how to smuggle a gun or two, but today I was packing loads of them. Not to mention, the expensive (and illegal) product I came here to sell.

Once climbing out of the plane, we had the aircraft baggage handlers transport our concealed weapons and drugs, unknowingly, into a black Audi Santiago purchased specifically for this trip. We had about four cases of weapons for us, and twenty bricks of snow for our buyer. After the trade, we'd earn ourselves $2.5 million worth of nefarious money.

We rode in silence, both of us staring at the sights in awe. Especially in the nighttime, the streets of Las Vegas were overflowing with people.

For tourists, this place was magical. But for people like us— this place was deadly. Vegas was infested with a teeming amount of sinister, murderous gangsters. The hotels and casinos we passed were huge, flashy, and inviting.