ASHES & PAIN
Chapter 11
SCARS
The jet smelled expensive in a way none of them were used to.
Not flashy.
Not new leather and champagne like in movies.
Older than that.
Cream-colored interior. Dark wood trim polished smooth with age. Quiet engines that barely vibrated beneath their feet. The kind of aircraft owned by people who stopped needing to prove they had money a long time ago.
Kait sat near the window with one leg crossed over the other, elbow against the armrest, staring out at the clouds drifting below. Vodka sat untouched in the crystal glass beside her.
Across from her, Ram looked like a kid who’d snuck backstage at a concert.
“The fuck is this?” he muttered, running his fingers along the wood panel beside him. “This thing got a goddamn living room.”
Mack laughed from the seat behind him. “Brother, I think the toilet probably costs more than your bike.”
“Probably costs more than both our bikes combined.”
“Shit, my bike ain’t worth much anyway.”
Don sat near the front of the cabin, one arm stretched across the seat beside him, looking entirely too comfortable already.
“You’re back to your beautiful self. The bruising is barely there. That’s good,” he said looking at Kait.
She shrugged. “Ribs are better, that’s all I’m grateful for.”
A woman in a fitted black uniform moved quietly through the aisle, setting down fresh drinks without needing to ask twice. Mexican. Mid-thirties maybe. Professional. Calm. Beautiful.
Didn’t even flinch when Ram grabbed her ass.
That was different too.
Usually people looked nervous around Krait.
Here, they looked prepared.
Don accepted another whiskey. “How long is the flight anyway?”
The pilot’s voice crackled softly through the cabin.
“About forty minutes total. We are crossing into Tamaulipas now, sir.”
Ram leaned across the aisle toward Kait. “You think this place is gonna be all cartel-movie shit?”
Kait shrugged without looking away from the window. “Probably not.”
“Bet there’s elephants and tigers and crazy shit like that.”
“There’s not gonna be fucking elephants.”
“You don’t know that.”
Mack grinned. “If I see an elephant, I’m riding it.”
“Pink elephants maybe,” Kait said and they laughed.
Don smirked faintly into his drink but said nothing.
He was in a good mood.
Relaxed.
Like he’d already stepped into a bigger room than Dryden.
The clouds broke beneath them slowly.
Green began spreading below the aircraft.
Massive stretches of ranchland.
Roads cutting through fields.
Tiny towns.
Then larger compounds.
Walled properties.
Long dirt roads leading nowhere visible.
Kait rested her temple against the glass.
Somewhere down there bodies disappeared into desert dirt while politicians shook hands over tequila.
Then she thought of the last time she was on a plane.
So much had change in such a short time.
Ram whistled low as the jet started descending.
“Well,” he muttered. “Looks like we finally made it to the big leagues.”
“Fuckin’ aye,” Don said raising his glass.
The private jet touched down just outside Valle Hermoso a little after four in the afternoon.
Forty-five minutes.
That was it.
One minute they’d been staring at dry Texas brushland from the air and the next everything below had turned greener, richer, alive.
Kait looked out the small oval window as the jet rolled across the private runway.
Palm trees.
Rolling ranchland.
White stone walls.
Armed men near the hangars.
Not military.
Not cops.
Something far more organized.
Ram whistled low from across the cabin. “Jesus Christ.”
Mack grinned. “Told you these motherfuckers got money.”
Don said nothing.
But Kait noticed the way his eyes stayed fixed outside.
Interested.
Hungry.
The jet finally slowed at a hangar, near a row of black SUVs already waiting beside the tarmac.
Santiago stood near the front vehicle with two armed men behind him.
Pressed white button-down.
Dark sunglasses.
Same calm expression he always wore.
That old money presence.
The stairs unfolded from the jet.
Warm humid air rolled inside immediately.
Santiago smiled faintly the second they stepped down.
“Donovan.”
The two men shook hands firmly.
“How’s it going kid?” Don said.
“Well, you know, getting the old man’s birthday party ready…”
“Oh, fuck. He didn’t tell me it was his birthday. We would’ve brought him something.”
Santiago put his hand up. “He doesn’t need anything, trust me.”
Don shook his head still wishing he knew.
Santiago greeted the others casually afterward like none of this was unusual anymore.
“Kait.”
“Santiago.”
His eyes lingered for maybe half a second.
Not long enough for anyone else to notice.
“Didn’t know you were coming.”
“Me neither.”
The corner of his mouth moved slightly.
Then he motioned toward the SUVs.
“C’mon. My father wants me to give you a proper tour.”
The drive to the hacienda took another twenty minutes through rolling ranchland and massive gated properties surrounded by stone fencing and armed checkpoints.
Kait counted security rings automatically.
Outer patrols.
Road overwatch.
Elevated rifle positions.
Cameras hidden inside decorative stonework.
Professional.
Not flashy.
Not paranoid either.
Like people who have done this a very long time.
Then finally, the hacienda appeared beyond the trees.
HACIENDA FLOR DE LUNA
An enormous estate of warm sandstone walls, terracotta roofs, and arched balconies surrounded by towering palms and immaculate gardens.
A grand fountain stood at the center of the circular driveway, just beyond the wrought-iron entrance gates.
Luxury SUVs lined the driveway while workers hurried around preparing for the evening.
Music equipment.
Flower arrangements.
Tables.
Generators.
Catering staff.
Armed security blended seamlessly into the activity.
Ram looked genuinely impressed now.
“Holy fuck.”
Mack laughed quietly. “This ain’t no birthday party. It’s the goddamn State Fair of Texas.”
The SUVs stopped near the main courtyard.
Housekeepers moved through the open archways carrying trays and flowers while Mariachi musicians tuned instruments somewhere deeper inside the estate.
Near the flower arrangements stood an elegant woman in her mid-fifties with gray hair arranging flowers into a massive crystal vase while calmly directing two staff members in flawless Spanish.
“Move those to the west patio.”
“No, the white roses stay here.”
“Don’t forget the candles after sunset, please. Every table.”
Susan Mondragón.
Even from a distance, she carried herself like someone completely accustomed to power.
Santiago noticed them watching.
“My mother.”
Susan turned smoothly toward the arriving group and smiled politely.
Not fake.
Not overly warm either.
Controlled.
Confident.
Santiago gave her a kiss on the cheek and then Susan turned her attention back to them.
“You must be Donovan,” she greeted easily. “Welcome.”
Don smiled. “And you must be Susan. Pleasure,” he said kissing her hand.
Kait found it odd to see Don be so gentle.
Her eyes drifted across the group politely at first—Mack, Ram—before stopping on Kait for a second longer than expected.
Not judgmental.
Interested.
Kait stood among them too naturally. Too evenly. No hesitation in her posture. No trace of someone trying to earn permission to be there.
Susan found it quietly fascinating.
A small smile touched her mouth. “Is this your daughter?”
Mack burst out laughing immediately. Ram followed right behind him.
Don’s eyes flicked toward them.
The reaction was instant.
Both men shut the fuck up.
Then Don stepped closer, sliding an arm around Kait’s shoulders with casual familiarity.
“No, but close enough,” he said easily.
Something softer settled beneath the words.
“Promised her old man I’d look after her.”
For a brief second, Kait looked up at him, slightly caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.
Susan noticed.
“Kait. Nice to meet you,” she said offering her hand.
Susan shook her hand and smiled politely. “Welcome, Kait.”
Then her attention shifted back toward the estate behind them.
“You all made excellent time. Good. Néstor hates when guests arrive after the tequila starts flowing.”
Ram snorted quietly.
Santiago led them away from the main drive at an unhurried pace. The estate was alive.
Men unloaded wooden tequila crates near the courtyard while others hauled cases of imported liquor beneath white canopy tents already glowing gold against the evening sky. Somewhere deeper into the property, a banda group tested microphones and brass, bursts of trumpets cutting through the warm air before dissolving again beneath chatter and generators.
Kait glanced toward the sound.
Workers hurried across stone walkways carrying silver serving trays. Strings of lights hung between palm trees and old mesquite branches. A fountain near the center courtyard spilled water into blue Talavera tile while two white peacocks wandered the grounds like they owned the place.
Mack was drawn to the peacocks. Never seen birds like that. Don pulled him back when he tried to grab one.
Further down the property, horses paced behind white fencing beneath shaded lanterns. Armed men stood near the stables smoking quietly with rifles hanging across their chests like ordinary accessories.
Nobody seemed nervous.
This wasn’t chaos pretending to be luxury.
It was structure.
Refined. Organized. Generational.
Kait had seen flashy narco bullshit before in movies and TV shows—gold-plated pistols, tiger cages, ugly marble mansions built by men desperate to look powerful.
This felt different.
Older.
The wealth here didn’t scream.
It expected.
Santiago glanced back toward them as they walked.
“My father is finishing up some business,” he said smoothly. “He will meet with you soon.”
“No worries, kid. We ain’t got nothing else going on.” Don said.
As they crossed another courtyard, Kait caught sight of armed guards stationed along the rooftops above the hacienda. Not sloppy gunmen trying to look intimidating.
Disciplined.
Spread properly.
Carrying radios.
Overlapping angles.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“Security’s tight here.”
Santiago gave her a quick shrug
“There’s a lot to protect, I suppose.”
Kait looked toward the glowing hacienda ahead, the musicians setting up beneath the courtyard lights, the servants flowing around armed men like it was all perfectly normal.
“Yeah,” she admitted quietly. “Quite a bit.”
Santiago glanced toward his watch briefly before looking back at the group.
“I’ll leave you with our head of security. Cortez will show you where you’ll stay tonight.” His attention settled briefly on Kait before returning to the others. “If you need anything, let him know.”
A man in his mid-forties stepped forward from beside the SUVs like he’d been there the entire time. Black button-down tucked neatly into pressed slacks. Broad shoulders. Calm eyes that seemed to catalog everything around him automatically.
Santiago shook Don’s hand once more.
“Enjoy yourselves,” he said. “I’ll see you all tonight.”
Then he was already moving again.
One of the armed Suburbans pulled alongside the courtyard as staff hurried to open the doors for him. Two security vehicles fell in behind almost immediately.
Nobody scrambled.
Nobody barked orders.
The entire movement happened with practiced efficiency.
Kait watched the convoy disappear deeper into the estate grounds beneath the palm trees and lantern light.
Big people moved differently here.
Cortez finally motioned toward the smaller stone pathway leading away from the main hacienda.
“This way, please.”
Cortez brought them across the estate just before sunset.
The guesthouse sat separate from the main hacienda beyond a smaller inner courtyard lined with palms and blue tile fountains. Even this place looked bigger than most homes back in Dryden.
Ram stopped the second they walked inside.
“Jesus Christ.”
Cold air rolled over them immediately.
Dark wood beams crossed the high ceilings overhead. Expensive leather furniture arranged around a massive stone fireplace. Framed oil paintings hung along the walls beside old black-and-white ranch photographs. All archways decorated with hand-painted black and white Talavera tiles.
A woman moved through quietly placing fresh towels near the staircase before disappearing again with a polite smile and a bow.
Mack looked around slowly. “This is the guesthouse?”
Cortez nodded once. “If you need anything, someone will bring it.”
Ram walked straight toward the liquor cart near the windows. “Dude I could totally live here.”
“You couldn’t afford a fuckin’ ashtray in here,” Mack muttered.
Ram ignored him completely, already pouring tequila into a crystal glass.
“Let me start a charter here, King.”
“Out your goddamn mind,” Don murmured pouring himself a shot of tequila.
Kait wandered toward the open back doors leading onto a stone patio. Even more elaborate and colorful Talavera tile there. Warm evening air drifted inside carrying distant music and the smell of grilled meat somewhere deeper on the property.
The banda was still soundchecking.
Trumpets.
Snare drums.
Voices over microphones.
Everything faint beneath the fountains.
She pulled a cigarette from her pocket and lit it, leaning against the stone railing while the sun sank lower over the ranchland beyond the estate walls.
Somewhere behind her Mack was still talking.
“Did you see them fuckin’ birds?”
Ram snorted.
“The peacocks?”
“Yeah, man. Rich people got dinosaur chickens walkin’ around like security guards.”
Ram nearly spilled his drink laughing as Mack started walking putting his hands behind him for a tail, and sticking his neck out.
Kait chuckled quietly and sat in one of the patio chairs. The small table beside her was also covered in Talavera tile. She ran her fingers slowly across the smooth hand-painted surface, studying the bright colors and intricate patterns. A cigarette rested between her fingers while smoke curled lazily into the humid air.
For a few minutes nobody talked about Dryden.
No funerals.
No jail hits.
No drama.
Just expensive tequila and rich people nonsense.
Inside, Don stood near the kitchen speaking quietly into his StarTAC.
Kolton.
Kait only caught pieces of it through the open doorway.
“You keep pressure on Grant.”
Pause.
“No, don’t let those dumb motherfuckers talk to Dryden PD without him there, especially that little fucker that keeps popping up at the Nest.”
Another pause.
“Then you tell Lopez and Anderson they did good.”
Don listened a while longer before smirking faintly.
“Yeah? You handlin’ everything alright?”
Kait could already hear Kolton on the other side without hearing the actual words.
Trying too hard to sound in control.
Trying to sound like Don.
The difference was Don never had to force it.
“She was around here just a second ago,” Don said looking at her checking to see if she’d want to talk to him.
Kait waved him off.
“No, I don’t see her. I can’t begin to tell you how huge this place is. But anyway, we’ll be back tomorrow sometime. Okay? Late.”
Don stepped outside onto the patio with a whiskey glass in his hand.
“Thanks,” Kait said.
Don nodded. “Y’all got rooms picked out?”
Ram lifted his drink. “I’m movin’ in.”
“That’s nice. You still ain’t sleepin’ in the fuckin’ main house.”
Mack grinned.
Don leaned beside Kait’s chair, looking out toward the glowing estate grounds beyond the palms.
Lanterns started flickering everywhere now.
The party was waking up.
After a second, Don spoke quietly.
“Néstor specifically asked if you were coming.”
Kait glanced up at him through the cigarette smoke.
“That right?”
Don nodded once.
“He likes you.”
She snorted lightly. “Sounds like a problem.”
“Only if you make it one.”
Kait watched him carefully now.
Don took a sip of whiskey before continuing casually.
“Just be nice to him tonight.”
“I’m always nice.”
“You know what I mean.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“No, I don’t, King.”
Don finally looked down at her.
“You know… If he wants to dance, dance with him. Talk to him. Don’t get smart.”
Kait smirked faintly around the cigarette.
“You trying to pimp me out now?”
Ram immediately started choking on his drink somewhere behind them.
Don laughed under his breath.
“The fuck outta here.”
But he didn’t actually deny it fast enough.
That lingered.
“He’s got a little crush on ya,” Don said. “It’s the man’s birthday. That’s all.”
Kait studied him a moment longer.
There was no hesitation in his face.
No discomfort.
He’d already made peace with this arrangement before they ever got on the plane.
Oddly enough, that didn’t bother her. If anything, it made sense.
This was how powerful men operated.
Favors.
Relationships.
Access.
And Don had never pretended the world worked any different.
Kait took another drag off her cigarette.
“So what, I babysit the millionaire tonight?”
A small grin tugged at Don’s mouth.
“Pretty much.”
She rolled her eyes lightly.
“Fine.”
“Good girl.”
Then headlights rolled across the courtyard outside.
A black SUV had pulled up near the front entrance.
Cortez stepped out first.
“El señor Mondragón will see you now.”
By the time Cortez returned for them, the estate had transformed completely.
Te Aprovechas rolled through the warm night air from somewhere deeper inside the hacienda. Strings of lights glowed between palm trees and stone archways while fountains reflected gold across the Saltillo tile courtyards. Expensive trucks and black SUVs filled the circular drives now. More guests had arrived.
Women in designer dresses.
Politicians.
Federales.
Armed men pretending not to watch everything around them.
The entire property buzzed softly with money and danger.
Cortez led them through the main courtyard toward the hacienda itself. Staff moved around them carrying silver trays filled with tequila glasses and appetizers while mariachi music drifted faintly from another patio further inside the estate.
The main house looked less like a home and more like something inherited by powerful men for generations.
Massive archways stretched overhead beneath hand-painted ceilings trimmed in dark wood and gold leaf. Black marble floors reflected chandelier light across enormous Persian rugs while antique statues and religious pieces stood tucked between towering alcoves lined with old family portraits.
Everything inside felt expensive in the quietest possible way.
Not new money.
Legacy.
The kind built slowly over decades until nobody inside needed to mention it anymore.
A massive staircase curved upward beneath a three-story window overlooking the glowing courtyards outside while staff moved seamlessly through the crowds carrying silver trays and crystal glasses.
Ram looked around slowly. “This place is fuckin’ unreal.”
Mack nodded once. “Rich Mexicans are different for sure.”
They heard a faint laughter and they all began to search where it was coming from.
And right at the top of the stairs stood Néstor Mondragón.
Gray beginning to spread through his dark hair. Expensive black suit without a tie. Relaxed posture. A crystal glass balanced casually in one hand while he made his way downstairs.
“Donovan.”
Don stepped forward first, grinning wide now.
“Happy birthday, brother.”
The others followed behind him with handshakes and greetings.
“Happy birthday.”
“Felicidades Don Néstor,” Ram said.
“Happy birthday.”
Néstor accepted it all easily.
Don shook his head once. “You shoulda told me it was your birthday. We would’ve brought you somethin’.”
A small smile touched Néstor’s mouth.
“You did.”
Then his eyes shifted past Don.
Straight to Kait.
For a brief second, the noise of the party almost seemed to dull around her.
Not because of intimidation.
Attention.
Focused attention.
Néstor stepped toward her smoothly and took her hand before she could really react.
“Kait.”
His voice was calm. Educated. Warm in a way that somehow felt more dangerous than roughness ever could.
“Good to see you again.”
Then he kissed the top of her hand lightly.
You fucking shitting me?
Kait managed a faint smile anyway.
“You too, Néstor.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Ah, you remembered.”
“I did.”
Néstor held her gaze for maybe a second longer than necessary before finally releasing her hand.
Don watched the entire interaction carefully.
Not protective.
Interested.
That was uglier somehow.
Then Néstor smiled again and lifted his drink slightly toward Don.
“Business can wait tonight, Donovan.”
Néstor motioned toward the glowing courtyards beyond the open archways.
“Tonight we enjoy ourselves first.”
The party swallowed them fast after that.
Ram and Mack blended into it disturbingly fast.
Within an hour Ram already had two girls hanging off him near the outdoor bar while Mack disappeared toward the dance floor with a brunette half his age.
Kait stayed near Don and Néstor longer.
Mostly listening.
Néstor moved through the party effortlessly. Greeting guests. Laughing. Drinking. Shaking hands with local officials while armed security watched from rooftops above the courtyards.
And the entire time, his attention kept drifting back toward Kait.
Susan Mondragón was nowhere to be seen.
Don found that strange after it seemed like she organized the whole thing.
He became curious.
At some point Néstor waved over two women in tight dresses and pulled them casually onto the couches beside him while another round of tequila appeared at the table.
“Kait,” he said warmly, lifting a glass toward her. “You drink tequila, yes?”
She almost laughed.
“Not really. I’m a vodka girl.”
“Tonight, you’re tequila girl.”
The others around the table laughed lightly.
Kait grabbed the shot anyway.
Fuck it.
Néstor clinked his glass gently against hers.
“To beautiful company.”
The tequila burned all the way down.
Disgusting.
Néstor rested a hand against the back of her chair afterward, fingers brushing lazily against her shoulder while another round appeared almost immediately.
Then another.
And another.
The warmth in his voice slowly started turning heavier beneath the alcohol.
“You know,” Néstor said, leaning closer beside her while the banda played somewhere out in the courtyard, “I was very happy when Donovan told me you were coming.”
Kait smiled faintly without committing to anything.
“That so?”
“Oh yes.”
His hand slid lower against the back of her chair.
“You are very different from the women here.”
Kait smirked. “Why ‘cause I wear pants?”
Néstor laughed harder than the joke deserved.
Definitely drunk now.
“You’re different from every woman, in every way.”
His fingers brushed lightly against Kait’s forearm this time.
“Maybe later…” he said quietly enough only she could hear, “you spend some time with me for my birthday.”
There it was.
Finally.
Kait took another shot immediately.
I’d rather fuck Mitch.
But she smiled anyway.
“Sure, but there’s no rush though,” she said smoothly. “Besides, you’re too sober still.”
Néstor laughed loudly.
“Sober?”
She grabbed the tequila bottle herself and poured another round.
“Yeah, so drink up, birthday boy. I don’t want you to get shy on me.”
That earned cheers and laughter from the table.
And somehow five shots later Néstor looked significantly less stable while Kait mostly just wanted to die.
Tequila was definitely not her poison.
Eventually she stood carefully from the couch.
“Be right back. Gotta find the little girls room,” she muttered.
Néstor caught her wrist lightly before she stepped away.
“You come back, yes?”
Kait smiled faintly.
“Of course,” she said with a wink.
That made him happy.
Then she escaped into the house before he could answer.
The second she found the bathroom she slammed the door shut and threw up almost immediately.
Tequila.
Fucking hell.
A few minutes later she washed her mouth out, fixed her eyeliner, and wandered back outside toward the quieter edges of the estate.
That was where she found Ram sitting alone near one of the outer courtyard tables with a half-finished drink and the stupidest grin she’d ever seen on his face.
Kait dropped into the chair beside him.
“You look happy.”
Ram looked over immediately. “Oh my God, Toast.”
“Oh no.”
“This girl—”
Kait already started laughing.
“She let me—”
“Ram?”
“Toast… I gotta tell you… she let me do whatever I wanted.”
“That’s beautiful, Ram.”
“No, seriously.”
“Congratulations. I don’t wanna hear it.”
Ram pointed toward the crowds dramatically. “I forgot how much Mexico fucking rules.”
“Well, it’s your casa and shit. You should have a couple of tíos here too, right?” Kait leaned back in the chair, exhausted now.
“A few,” Ram nodded and put a fist on his chest looking around proudly.
“Néstor expects me to fuck him for his birthday.”
Ram nearly choked on his drink.
“No shit?”
“No shit.”
Before he could answer, movement near the stage caught everyone’s attention.
The banda music stopped.
A spotlight swept across the courtyard while guests slowly started turning toward the massive outdoor stage near the fountains.
Then a woman stepped out beneath the lights.
Black outfit glittering beneath the stage glow.
Long dark hair. Cowgirl hat. Stunning.
The crowd reacted instantly.
Néstor stumbled excitedly toward the front already laughing with several men around him.
The woman smiled into the microphone.
“Buenas noches.” Her voice echoed across the courtyard. “Muy feliz cumpleaños Don Néstor. Es un honor estar aquí celebrando con usted y todos sus invitados.”
The crowd applauded loudly.
Then the opening music started.
Ram’s jaw literally dropped.
Kait frowned at him. “What.”
“You know who that is?”
She stared at him blankly.
Ram looked offended.
“That’s Ana Bárbara.”
Kait shrugged lightly. “Okay.”
Ram looked genuinely hurt now.
“That’s like one of the hottest grupera singers ever. She just said it’s an honor to play for Mondragón on his birthday.”
“I believe you.”
Then La Trampa started playing through the courtyard.
“Oh, I love that song,” said Ram and started trying to dance in his chair.
The crowd erupted.
Kait and Ram watched and halfway through the song, Néstor Mondragón stood near the front of the stage swaying slightly now with a drink in one hand while armed guards remained posted calmly nearby like this was all completely normal.
The song ended to loud applause across the estate.
Néstor shouted something toward the stage.
Ram blinked.
“No fuckin’ way.”
“What,” Kait said chewing on ice still struggling to get rid of the tequila taste.
A second later the band started playing again.
Kait frowned. “Dude, she sucks. This song sounds the same as the first one.”
Ram stared at her.
“It is the same song.”
She looked back toward the stage.
“Why the fuck is she playing it again?”
“He just made her play it again.”
Kait laughed once under her breath.
“What?”
Right then Mack stumbled into the courtyard carrying a drink and looking completely wrecked.
“You Bungarus motherfuckers.”
He lit up a cigarette and leaned over to Ram.
“This the best party ever or what? My dick has never been this sore. Holy shit. This one chick was sucking it so hard I was—”
“Mack, shut the fuck up if you don’t want me to tell Becky.”
Mack looked terrified as he sat down.
“Different town, Toast. I’m allowed.”
“Bullshit ass rule. Guess what? Mondragón just made the chick on stage start the song over.”
“For real?”
Ram stayed completely locked onto the stage while Ana Bárbara sang beneath the lights.
“You don’t understand,” he said, still staring forward. “She’s huge.”
Kait leaned back in the chair.
“You said that already.”
“I’m serious. Like… she’s famous-famous.”
“You sound like a little fangirl,” Mack said.
“Dude, if Metallica walked out right now, you’d lose your fuckin’ mind too,” Ram said.
“You’re not about to compare Metallica with Hannah Barbera,”
Ram pointed dramatically toward the stage. “Ana Bárbara, pendejo,” he corrected.
The song ended.
They waited.
Kait opened her mouth.
The crowd applauded.
Néstor shouted something toward the stage while pointing upward dramatically with his drink.
Ram blinked hard.
“This is wild. Damn, Toast, what you give this man?” Ram said.
A second later the band restarted.
Same intro.
Same song.
Again.
Kait stared toward the stage in disbelief.
“This cannot be real.”
Ram looked amazed. “This motherfucker really made her sing it again.”
“She already sang it twice.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
Kait laughed quietly and stood from the table.
“Okay, I’m over it. I’m gonna go find vodka somewhere before he asks for a fourth round. You two can sit here and exchange your juicy stories.”
Ram pointed at her immediately. “You gotta tell us all about it if you fuck the birthday boy.”
“I don’t fucking think so,” Kait said without even looking back and disappeared into the crowd.
She stopped by one of the last bars before the main house and tried to tell the bartender what she wanted. He could not understand her so he started showing her bottles.
Tequila.
No.
Whiskey.
No.
Cognac.
No
Finally vodka, and Russkaya nonetheless. The real Russian shit.
“Thank fuck.”
She grabbed the bottle of Russkaya and walked toward the darker side of the estate.
Nobody out there.
Just warm night air and the distant echo of Ana Bárbara carrying through the grounds.
The backside of the hacienda overlooked another courtyard lined with palms and blue-lit fountains. Lanterns glowed softly along the stone walkways while crickets buzzed somewhere beyond the walls.
Kait sat down on the edge of a low stone planter and unscrewed the vodka bottle.
Much better.
She lit a cigarette and leaned back slightly, smoke curling upward into the humid night air.
She took a couple of drags and a couple of drinks when suddenly—
A wooden shutter behind her swung open.
Kait turned instinctively.
Santiago leaned against the balustrade. Shirtless, dressed only in black silk pajama pants hanging low against his waist.
Relaxed.
Barely even looked surprised to see her there.
“I would kill for one of those,” he said, nodding toward the cigarette.
Kait smirked faintly and stood.
“Good thing you’re a lawyer.”
She handed him one.
Then the lighter.
Santiago lit the cigarette slowly and exhaled toward the ceiling before handing the lighter back.
“Thank you.”
“You hiding from your own party?”
A small smile touched the corner of his mouth.
“Not my party.”
Kait took another drink from the bottle.
“I thought rich people loved this kind of shit.”
“My father loves this kind of shit.”
“And you don’t because…”
Santiago leaned slightly against the open window frame.
“It gets exhausting after a while.”
Kait looked back toward the distant music.
“Why? You don’t like Ana Bárbara or something?”
That actually made him laugh.
A real laugh.
“No way you know who Ana Bárbara is.”
“Not really. My buddy Ram just told me.”
“That’s more like it.”
“I know Selena though.”
He chuckled. “Well, you’re from Texas, so…”
Kait smirked and took another pull from the vodka bottle.
Santiago glanced toward it.
“You know,” he said casually, “they probably have orange or cranberry juice somewhere for that.”
Kait followed his eyes toward the bottle.
“Nah.”
Then she held it out toward him.
“Don’t need it.”
Santiago accepted it without hesitation and took a drink directly from the bottle.
A second passed.
Then another.
Finally he lowered it and looked at the label thoughtfully.
“Not so bad.”
Kait laughed quietly.
“Reminds me of college.”
“What, frat parties at Harvard or some shit?”
“Yale, actually,” he said, taking the bottle again.
“Close enough.”
He smiled faintly into the vodka before taking another drink.
“Not really.”
Kait watched him lean against the open window frame, cigarette glowing softly between his fingers while distant banda music drifted through the estate behind them.
It was strange.
He was starting to remind her of someone.
Clean.
Educated.
Sophisticated.
Santiago handed the bottle back.
“So,” he asked casually, “who are you hiding from?”
Kait took a long drink before answering.
“Your dad.”
Santiago blinked once.
“What?”
“Yeah, he uh…” She smirked faintly into the bottle. “Never mind.”
Realization crossed his face almost immediately.
“God,” he muttered. “Was he hitting on you?”
“I guess you could call it that.”
Santiago sighed quietly and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.
“Sorry. He forgets his age lately.”
Kait shrugged.
“No worries. He seems pretty harmless.”
Santiago looked at her for a second longer than necessary.
“Can’t say I blame him though.”
That earned the smallest laugh out of her.
Kait passed him the bottle again.
“I take back what I said about security by the way.”
“Why?”
“I made it all the way back here, didn’t I?”
Santiago glanced around the empty courtyard dramatically.
“Should I radio someone?”
Kait smirked.
“Only if you’re scared.”
That actually made him laugh under his breath.
“No,” he said, taking another drink straight from the bottle. “I think I can handle you.”
Kait raised an eyebrow highly doubting that.
“Although,” Santiago said lightly, “you did gun down six men a couple days ago.”
Kait looked over immediately.
“You heard about that?”
“We hear about everything.”
The music swelled louder somewhere across the estate as the crowd erupted again near the stage.
Santiago passed her the bottle and felt her cold fingers on his.
“Your hands are freezing.”
Kait scoffed lightly. “Me? You’ve over here with no shirt on.”
“I run hot, usually.”
She checked him out again.
“I don’t doubt that.”
The night air had gotten colder while they talked. Enough that the humidity settled differently against exposed skin.
Santiago took one last drag from the cigarette before crushing it into a ceramic ashtray near the window.
“Why don’t you come in?” he asked casually. “Vodka can only do so much to keep you warm.”
Kait looked past him through the open, elaborate wooden shutters.
Warm amber light spilled across dark wood floors inside.
A fireplace crackled somewhere deeper in the room.
Definitely not a normal bedroom.
“Sure.”
Santiago offered his hand and helped her climb over the balustrade.
The room was ridiculous.
Not flashy.
Worse.
Refined.
A massive fireplace burned beneath built-in shelves displaying ivory chess pieces, old coins, and photographs from Rome, Paris, and Mexico City. Dark shelves filled with books stretched toward the high ceilings while expensive leather furniture sat arranged around Persian rugs and low marble tables.
And toward the far end of the room—
A staircase.
Kait stopped mid-step.
“Holy shit, really?”
That finally got a laugh out of Santiago.
“It’s not that big.”
“You have stairs in your bedroom.”
“It goes to my office.”
“Of course it does.”
Santiago smiled faintly and shut the window behind them.
Kait wandered slowly through the room with the vodka bottle in hand.
Books.
Records.
Framed photographs.
Old maps.
A glass display case filled with antique revolvers.
Everything smelled like cedarwood, expensive liquor, and fireplace smoke.
Nothing about the room felt temporary.
There was so much history in every corner of the house and this room was not the exception.
Her eyes landed on a framed photograph sitting beside a shelf near the staircase.
Snow.
The Kremlin behind them.
A younger Santiago stood beside Susan and Néstor wrapped in heavy winter coats.
“You’ve been to Russia.” She said as a statement more than a question.
“A few times. That was the only time it wasn’t for business, though.”
Kait nodded slightly.
Santiago leaned casually against the staircase railing.
“You have ties there, right?” he asked. “Last time I saw you, you asked about our Russian contacts.”
Kait took another small drink from the bottle.
“My mom’s from there.”
“Yeah? Interesting. So you’ve been as well.”
“Just once.”
That was all she offered.
Santiago didn’t push further.
He just nodded once like that answered enough.
Then after a moment:
“How’s it been for you since moving back? You miss Europe at all?”
Kait looked toward the fireplace quietly for a second.
Sometimes.
But Europe also carried ghosts she tried very hard not to think about anymore.
“Parts of it,” she admitted finally.
Santiago studied her briefly but let the silence settle naturally afterward instead of digging deeper.
That alone made him easier to be around than most people.
“So what do you do when you’re not babysitting your dad?”
Santiago walked toward one of the shelves and poured himself a glass of whiskey this time.
“I babysit all this.”
Kait wandered toward the fireplace and stretched her hands toward the heat.
“Sounds about right.”
“Would you like a glass?”
She lifted the vodka bottle slightly. “I’ll stick to this. Can’t believe you guys have actual Russian vodka.”
A crooked smile pulled at the corner of Santiago’s mouth.
“Well,” she said calmly, “I actually can.”
Kait lowered herself onto the rug in front of the fireplace. The heat felt good against her skin after sitting outside in the damp night air.
A second later Santiago joined her on the floor, sitting comfortably against the couch with one knee bent.
Up close, she noticed things she hadn’t outside.
The build beneath the calm posture.
Strong arms.
Dark hair lightly scattered across his chest and stomach.
And a scar near his right collarbone partially hidden by the firelight.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“What’s that from?”
Before he answered, her fingers brushed lightly against the scar.
Warm skin.
Santiago glanced down at her hand briefly.
“Few years ago. There was a little incident.”
Kait laughed under her breath.
“Oh, come on. You can do better than that.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“Well… I was still in college. Maybe sophomore year. I came home for the summer and almost got kidnapped at the airport.”
Kait looked up immediately.
“No shit?”
He shook his head once.
“Turned into a shootout. Two of our men died…”
His tone stayed strangely casual about it.
“And I almost caught a bullet in the neck.”
Kait studied the scar again.
“Looks like you got lucky.”
“Depends on who you ask.”
That earned the faintest smile out of her.
Santiago took a sip of his whiskey.
“You ever been hit?”
“Yeah.”
His eyes shifted toward her.
“At this last shooting in—”
“No. few weeks ago… not the first time, though.”
“When was the first time?”
“In Russia, actually.”
Santiago tilted his head slightly.
“Well,” he said quietly, “show me.”
Kait looked at him for a second.
No hesitation in his face.
No weird fascination.
Just curiosity.
“Alright.”
She set the bottle down beside the fireplace and slipped her jacket off her shoulders.
Then she moved across the rug toward him on her knees and lifted her shirt slowly, exposing the black bra beneath it along with the faint scar just below the fabric line near her ribs.
Then she turned slightly to the other side.
“This is a few weeks ago.”
Santiago straightened slightly.
For the first time all night, he actually looked caught off guard.
Not because of the scars, which were not that bad at all.
Because she’d closed the distance without thinking twice.
The firelight danced softly across her skin. Slowly, Santiago reached out and let his thumb brush across the scar on her waist.
It wasn’t big, but he saw the silver shine of it as he turned his head.
“That was a shootout with Talamantes sicarios, actually.”
Santiago moved his hand to the other side, beneath her bra.
His touch stayed careful.
Measured.
“I bet this one hurt,” he murmured, his eyes dropping briefly before returning to hers.
“Yeah,” Kait said softly. “Nicked my rib.”
“How’d it happen?”
A small smirk touched her mouth.
“Bad breakup.”
That pulled a dry laugh from him.
“Damn.”
His thumb traced slowly across the scar again.
“How long ago you said?”
“Three and a half… four years maybe.”
Santiago looked at her quietly for a moment longer than before.
Not pushing.
Not prying.
The warmth from the fireplace wrapped around them while the party continued somewhere far out there.
Kait suddenly realized she couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat this close to someone without tension attached to it.
No fighting.
No expectations.
No history clawing at her chest.
Just warmth.
Vodka.
And Santiago’s hand still resting lightly against her ribs.
Kait finally reached for the hem of her shirt to pull it back down.
But Santiago’s hand tightened slightly against her side before she could.
Not aggressive.
Just enough to stop her and get her attention.
His eyes lifted to hers immediately.
The look on his face had changed.
Hazel eyes still calm.
Still controlled.
But no longer distant.
His gaze moved slowly across her skin before returning to her eyes again, and it clicked for both of them. An agreement had been made.
Not romance.
Not softness.
A transaction.
Simple as that.
Slowly, Santiago pulled her shirt the rest of the way over her head and tossed it somewhere onto the rug beside them.
Kait watched him for half a second longer.
Let’s Rock n’ Roll.
She grabbed him by the jaw and kissed him hard.
The reaction was immediate.
Santiago pulled her into him instantly, one hand sliding firmly around her waist while the other tangled into her hair as the kiss deepened fast and messy and hungry.
Not careful anymore.
The vodka.
The whiskey.
The fire.
They rolled across the rug together in front of the fireplace, kissing hard enough to steal breath while hands pulled at clothes impatiently between them.
His mouth against her neck.
Her fingers dragging through his hair.
The sound of fabric hitting the floor somewhere beside the couch.
Every time she tried taking control, Santiago answered right back, neither of them fully willing to give ground for more than a few seconds at a time.
And Kait loved that immediately.
No emotional weight attached to it.
No complicated history.
No promises.
Just wanting somebody for one night and being wanted back just as hard.
The fire crackled beside them while beyond the walls, the mariachi band played Las Mañanitas to Néstor Mondragón.
Kait couldn’t care less.
She pushed Santiago backward across the rug toward the couch, laughing softly against his mouth when he caught her hips and pulled her down with him instead.
The vodka buzzed warmly through her veins now.
The fire crackled beside them.
Santiago’s hands slid along her waist and back slowly at first, like he was still trying to stay controlled, but Kait could already feel that restraint slipping every time she kissed him harder.
Good.
She wanted that.
Her mouth moved against his throat while his fingers worked down on her, rubbing and invading her good enough to pull soft moans from her. The sound alone nearly made him lose his mind.
“You’re pure fucking trouble,” he murmured somewhere against her skin.
Kait laughed softly.
Santiago looked up at her then, silver eyes warm from vodka and firelight, and the look alone nearly started another fight for control between them.
She kissed him first this time.
Again.
Hard.
His hands tightened around her immediately and suddenly they were moving again, half tangled together trying to get closer faster than either of them could think straight anymore.
The couch lasted maybe thirty seconds before Kait nearly knocked a whiskey glass off the table beside it.
Santiago caught it at the last second and laughed under his breath.
“On my bed. I want you on my bed,” he muttered.
“Lead the way.”
He pulled her up with him and Kait barely had time to grab the vodka bottle before he caught her around the waist again, kissing her while backing her toward the bed, past the couches.
Everything after that blurred together into warmth and movement and firelight.
Hands against skin.
Kait laughing breathlessly when Santiago nearly missed a step because he wouldn’t stop kissing her long enough to see where he was going.
Kait pushed him on the bed and climbed onto his lap, kissing him slowly and dangerously while his hands slid along her thighs and hips, pulling her closer every chance he got.
Neither of them seemed interested in being gentle for very long.
Every time the pace slowed, one of them started it all over again.
Another kiss.
Another pull.
He rolled her over again.
Kait’s head felt pleasantly weighed down from vodka, warmth, and exhaustion.
It felt good to stop thinking.
No Lane.
No Kolton.
No Dryden.
Just Santiago’s weight on her.
His passion.
His intensity.
The sound of his hips clashing against hers. Over and over.
And enough heat between them to drown everything else out for a few hours.
Long after the party outside finally started to fade, Kait remained tangled with him beneath the blankets, half asleep against his chest while the fireplace still burned softly.
Santiago reached for her chin and made her look up at him. “Buenas noches, Kait.”
She couldn’t even focus anymore but tried to say goodnight back.
Nothing came out.
Santiago almost smiled as he watched her fall asleep in his arms.
Then, he gave her a last kiss before finally surrendering.
Kait woke slowly.
For a few seconds she had no idea where she was.
The bed was too soft.
The room was too quiet.
Then the events of the night came back all at once.
Mexico.
The party.
Vodka.
Santiago…
San-tiago.
She rubbed her face and sat up carefully.
Sunlight spilled through the wooden shutters, painting long golden stripes across the hardwood floor.
The room looked even more ridiculous in daylight.
The massive bed alone was bigger than her room in the Nest.
Kait glanced around for her clothes.
One boot sat near the staircase.
The other had somehow made it halfway to the other side of the bed.
Her shirt was nowhere in sight.
Fantastic.
Eventually she stopped trying to find her clothes and just went into a room.
Nope. That was his other apartment… for his clothes.
Wait, there was another door. Bingo.
That bathroom was somehow worse.
Marble counters.
A soaking tub the size of a small swimming pool.
A shower with more showerheads than any human being could possibly need.
She splashed cold water on her face and stared at herself in the mirror.
Hungover.
Tired.
Not miserable.
That was the strange part.
Santiago was up now.
His turn to go to the bathroom.
“Sorry,” she said and got out.
“No worries.”
She found Santiago’s pajama top and threw it on.
He came out a minute later and stood there for a second. Watching her look through his shirts.
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
“Good morning.”
Kait turned.
“Is it?”
His eyes moved over her lazily.
“Yeah. Especially with this view.”
Kait smiled.
Santiago smiled back.
“It’s actually alarming how perfect you are.”
She walked up to him.
“You’re not too bad yourself.”
Kait gave his jaw a soft bite and they smiled at each other.
Comfortable.
Easy.
The kind of morning neither of them had expected the night before.
Santiago reached for her wrist.
“Come back to bed, stay a little longer.”
Kait glanced toward the clock.
8:23 a.m.
Still early.
The estate outside remained mostly quiet.
The party survivors were probably still unconscious.
She looked back at him.
“You’re a bad influence.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Santiago wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him.
The kiss started slow.
Softer than the night before.
Less vodka.
Less chaos.
More dangerous somehow.
Sunlight spilled across the sheets while the rest of the world waited outside.
Neither of them seemed particularly interested in joining it yet.
One hour became another.
Warmth.
Laughter.
Tangled sheets.
Stolen time neither of them had planned on.
Eventually Kait looked over toward the clock again.
9:50 a.m.
“Shit.”
This time she actually got up.
Santiago laughed from the bed.
“Important biker business?”
“Unfortunately.”
She finished getting dressed while he sat on the edge of the bed watching her.
By the time she pulled on her jacket, he stepped closer and kissed her once.
Slow.
Simple.
Nothing dramatic attached to it.
Then he lifted her chin.
“I should probably get dressed too.”
“Probably.”
“And then I guess I’ll see you out there.”
Kait smirked.
“And we’ll pretend we didn’t have sex all night?”
Santiago nodded.
“And all morning.”
“Good plan.”
Santiago nodded thoughtfully.
“I’ll also do my best not to brag to my father about it.”
That earned an actual laugh.
“Please don’t.”
“No promises.”
“I had fun.”
He kissed her.
“Then stay longer,” he said.
Kait shook her head.
“I already did.”
“I mean for a while.”
“Sounds very tempting but I do have quite a bit to take care of back home.”
“Well, if you ever you need to hide again, you know where to find me.”
She chuckled.
“I mean that. Here…” he said and opened a drawer. He took a white business card out.
“This number rings upstairs.” So, if you ever need to get away…”
“That’s very nice of you. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
She kissed him long and hard and then headed toward the door.
“Hasta luego.”
Santiago approved of her Spanish with a nod.
“Very nice.”
“Later.”
The walk back to the guesthouse was brutal.
Not because someone stopped her.
Not because someone knew.
But because Kait knew exactly what she looked like.
Hair a disaster.
Pale as ghost.
Eyeliner smeared into eye shadow.
She crossed one of the inner courtyards with a Styrofoam cup of coffee she’d stolen from a catering station and kept her head down.
One of the groundskeepers nodded politely.
Kait nodded back.
He totally knows.
He absolutely didn’t.
But that didn’t stop her brain from saying it.
The guesthouse came into view a few minutes later.
The smell of bacon hit her first.
Then laughter.
Uh oh.
Ram and Mack sat on the patio beneath a large umbrella eating breakfast.
The second Ram spotted her, his eyes widened.
Then a grin spread slowly across his face.
“Oh my God.”
“No,” Kait already said waving them off.
“Oh my God.”
“Don’t.”
Mack looked up from his plate.
Then looked at Kait.
Then looked toward the main hacienda.
Then back at Kait.
His fork slowly lowered.
“No fuckin’ way.”
Kait kept walking.
“Morning.”
Ram immediately pointed.
“Where the fuck were you?”
“Walking.”
“For twelve hours?”
“Mexico’s beautiful.”
Mack started laughing so hard he nearly choked.
Ram slapped the table.
“I knew it.”
“You don’t know shit.”
“I know everything.”
“Well, shit Toast, if we knew you were into older men…” Mack said.
“Shut the fuck up.” she said and they laughed.
Ram leaned forward dramatically.
“Did you really fuck Mondragón?”
Kait took a sip of coffee.
Didn’t answer.
Which was answer enough.
Mack slammed his hand on the table.
“Oh my God, she did.”
Kait sat down and stole a piece of bacon off Mack’s plate.
Nobody stopped her.
Neither man could process anything else.
Ram looked genuinely offended.
“No way,” Mack said.
Kait blinked.
Ram frowned.
“The man was drunk as a skunk. There is no—”
Kait was giggling into her cup.
“Wait.”
Ram pointed toward the main house.
“Don is with Néstor right now.”
“Oh, shit, you fucked Santiago?”
“Shhh!” Kait said throwing a piece of toast at him.
He dodged it. “You’re sneaky as fuck, you know that?”
“Well, we’re supposed to be snakes, right?”
She raised her eyebrows when she spotted toast and strawberry jelly on the table spread.
Mack shook his head.
“No, hold on. We need details before you go to toast town… I’ll tell Prince on you.”
“Shut the fuck up,” she said spreading the jelly.
“Details, Toast,” Mack insisted.
Kait took a bite of her toast.
“Holy shit, this is homemade. So fucking good,” she said looking at the toast.
Ram leaned back in his chair.
“Is that what you were saying to Santiago last night?”
“Shit, yeah.”
Ram shook his head.
“I hate that motherfucker now.”
They laughed.
don mondragon's despacho
Don had expected an office.
What Néstor called a despacho was something else entirely.
The double doors alone were taller than in most cathedrals.
Dark wood paneling covered the walls from floor to ceiling between towering bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes and antique manuscripts collected from God knew where. A massive stone fireplace dominated one side of the room while sunlight poured through an entire wall of windows overlooking the estate below.
From up here, Don could see almost everything.
The courtyards.
The fountains.
The stables.
Kait, Mack, and Ram having breakfast at the guesthouse.
Security vehicles moving slowly along the private roads.
Workers crossing the grounds.
The entire kingdom.
In the center of the room sat a desk so large it looked ridiculous.
Polished mesquite.
Custom built.
Big enough to seat a church meeting.
And behind it sat Néstor Mondragón looking like absolute shit.
Dark sunglasses.
Water.
Aspirin and something else.
Néstor rubbed his temples without shame.
“Moving it isn’t the problem.”
Don hid a smile.
Barely.
Néstor looked miserable.
The tequila had apparently won.
“No,” Néstor continued. “Distribution is.”
Don settled into one of the leather chairs across from him.
“The trucks are movin’ fine.”
“They are.”
That part was true.
The arrangement had worked beautifully.
Krait escorted trucks.
Nobody asked questions.
Nobody opened trailers.
Nobody knew what they were actually protecting.
Money arrived.
Everybody stayed happy.
Néstor leaned back carefully.
Like even moving too quickly hurt.
“There is no money in Marijuana anymore. They’re going to start legalizing it in every state.”
Don didn’t say anything.
He just listened.
Outside the windows, one of the fountains shimmered beneath the morning sun.
A groundskeeper crossed the courtyard pushing a cart full of flowers.
The place looked more like a resort than the headquarters of a criminal empire.
“The Lozano brothers are expanding.”
That got Don’s attention.
Néstor took another drink of water.
“They’ve begun bringing heroin north by air.”
Don frowned slightly.
“Planes.”
“Small ones.”
“Sounds risky.”
Néstor shrugged.
“Everything worth doing is risky.”
Fair enough.
A moment passed.
Then Néstor stood and walked toward the windows.
Slowly.
Still nursing the hangover.
He gestured toward the estate below.
“You like it here?”
Don looked out across the property.
Hard not to.
“You built somethin’ nice.”
Néstor smiled faintly.
“My grandfather built most of it.”
The old man stood there quietly for a moment.
Looking out across the fountains.
The courtyards.
The workers.
The security.
Everything.
“I’m trying to build something bigger.”
That landed differently.
Don could hear it immediately.
This wasn’t a man protecting his wealth.
This was a man still chasing more.
Néstor turned toward him.
“You know what the difference is between you and me, Donovan?”
Don leaned back in the chair.
“Millions of dollars?”
A dry laugh escaped Néstor.
Immediately followed by a wince.
Apparently laughing hurt.
“My father gave me this.”
He gestured toward the estate.
“The land. The businesses… The foundation.”
His eyes settled on Don.
“My grandfather gave it my father before that… but you, nobody gave you anything.”
Don didn’t answer.
Because it was true.
Everything he’d ever had, he’d built himself.
Krait. Dryden. The other charters.
The reputation…
Every mile. Every patch. Every grave.
Néstor walked back toward the desk.
“You’ve built something extraordinary.”
Don remained silent.
“The men follow you.”
Still silent.
“They fight for you.”
Néstor sat down again.
“They die for you.”
The room grew quieter.
Outside, a horse wandered lazily through one of the distant paddocks.
“Now imagine if they made that much more money for you too.”
There it was.
Finally.
Don folded his arms.
“Sounds dangerous.”
Néstor smiled.
“No.”
The smile widened slightly.
“It sounds profitable.”
Don studied him.
“You want Krait to deal heroin.”
“No. I’m talking wholesale.”
“That’s a whole new ballgame.”
“Not necessarily.”
Don looked back toward the windows.
The estate.
The security.
The fountains.
The wealth.
“You could have something like this too, Donovan.”
Don stayed quiet for a moment.
Then shook his head.
“Mexico’s one thing, Néstor, Texas is another.”
Don pointed toward the window.
“You can’t buy the DOJ like you can buy your federales here.”
Still nothing from Néstor.
“You start pushin’ heroin through American cities and those boys don’t show up lookin’ for a bribe. They show up lookin’ for a RICO case.”
Néstor sat back.
“They only show up when people make mistakes.”
Don snorted.
“People always make mistakes.”
“Then don’t let them.”
The room grew quiet.
Néstor reached for his water.
“The men moving the product don’t need to know where it comes from.”
A sip.
“The men receiving the product don’t need to know where it goes.”
Another.
“The people above them never meet.”
Don listened.
Because that part sounded familiar.
Very familiar.
Néstor continued.
“You’ve already proven you understand compartmentalization.”
That landed.
Neither of them mentioned the trucks.
They didn’t need to.
Krait didn’t know what was inside them, and they’ve been doing it for months.
Krait AZ didn’t know.
Krait NM didn’t know.
The money arrived.
The cargo moved.
Questions were never asked.
The system already existed.
Néstor set his coffee down.
“The DEA follows organizations.”
He pointed toward the estate below.
“So don’t give them one.”
Don remained silent.
Outside, workers crossed the courtyards carrying flowers left over from the party.
The fountains continued flowing.
Mack’s peacocks began making their rounds.
The estate looked peaceful.
Permanent.
Untouchable.
“You think politicians are clean?” Néstor asked.
Don didn’t answer.
“Bankers? Billion dollar corporations?”
Néstor leaned forward.
“Everyone is making money, Donovan.”
The room went quiet again.
Then Néstor gestured toward the window.
The fountains.
The guesthouses.
The horses.
The security.
The kingdom.
“My grandfather built this.”
His voice softened slightly.
“My father expanded it.”
Then he looked directly at Don.
“What are you leaving behind?”
That question sat between them.
Heavy.
Because suddenly Don wasn’t seeing heroin.
He wasn’t seeing trucks, drugs or the risk of it all.
He was seeing Krait.
Dryden, Yuma, Las Cruces…
Huntsville.
The county jail, state prisons, hangarounds…
The connections, the network—
The future.
Néstor watched the calculation happen.
“You already have the hardest part.”
Don finally looked back at him.
“And what’s that?”
Néstor smiled.
“A pipeline.”
A few hours later, they were back at the airstrip.
The hangovers had mostly faded.
Néstor looked considerably more alive than he had that morning, though Don noticed he was still drinking water like a man trying to recover from a near-death experience.
Good.
Served him right.
The goodbyes were brief.
Handshakes.
Last Happy Birthday wishes.
Promises to stay in touch.
Businessmen pretending they weren’t discussing enough narcotics to destabilize a small country.
Néstor shook Don’s hand firmly.
“Think about what I said.”
Don nodded once.
“I will.”
No promises.
No commitment.
Just consideration.
Néstor seemed satisfied with that.
A few yards away, Santiago was saying goodbye to Kait while Ram and Mack glared at him and pretended not to stare too hard.
Pretended.
Poorly.
The jet waited at the end of the runway while security vehicles idled nearby.
A final round of handshakes followed.
Then Santiago escorted them aboard.
The engines started a few minutes later.
By the time the wheels left Mexican soil behind, Ram was already asleep.
Mack wasn’t far behind.
Kait sat quietly by the window.
The clouds swallowed the estate soon after takeoff.
The ranch, the horses.
The night before.
All gone.
Don sat across from them with a glass of whiskey untouched in his hand.
Thinking.
Not about the money.
Not exactly.
About possibilities.
About infrastructure.
About Krait.
About everything the club has become over the years.
And everything it could still be.
He said nothing for the entire flight.
Because no decision had been made.
Not yet.
Something this big didn’t belong to one man.
Not officially.
It would have to go before the table.
Especially Klaus.
That alone was enough to make Don rub his jaw thoughtfully.
The old German was going to have opinions.
Strong ones.
For now, though, Don kept the idea to himself.
Let it sit.
Let it grow.
By the time the jet touched down back in Texas, nobody knew that the future of Krait had just quietly boarded the plane with them.
