Chapter 2 Blood And Betrayal

Carter's POV "Where are the rest of the drugs? Pendejo?" I queried the man tied up to a concrete pillar in the cellar. He was a bloody mess with swollen eyes, cheeks, and missing teeth. My aide had informed me that he was one of the middlemen assigned to drive the trucks that discreetly transported my precious drug packages across the city. Out of four trucks sent out, three arrived at their destination with the fourth one unaccounted for. And this fucker before me was allegedly the driver of the fourth truck. I delivered a firm punch to his jaw, forcefully ejecting blood from his mouth. "I can't keep up doing that. Don't force my hand." I sucked in deep breath to calm my pent frustration, bent to meet his eye. With my index finger, I raised his battered face to meet mine. "Just tell me where you stashed it up, and I'll let you go your merry way, you have my word." The man still remained mute, heaving painfully. He still refused to talk, defiance evident in his bloodshot eyes. Kind of reminds me of me, and I hated it to the core. I have never recorded an error in returning records to my father but here I was. I needed to know where the rest of the drugs were or my father would have my head for it. My father, the Godfather, cared for his drug shipments more than he did for his family. Further enraged, my fist slammed into his tummy. "Have you lost your goddamn tongue?" The man doubled over, puking his guts out all over the place. Some of it touched my clothes. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I cursed in disgust, anger burning in my chest. This dude just messed up my white Prada shirt with his blood and filth. It was a limited edition released by the brand a week ago, I lost $2000 to it and now, it's gone. Just as I was about to transfer the aggression through my hands onto his body when my aide interrupted me. "Boss? Godfather is on the line." "Dammit. That old man again," I quietly muttered to myself, knowing that there could be only one possible reason for him to call my private number. "Take care of him." I quickly wiped my hand clean of the blood and snatched the phone from my aide. "Make sure he talks." "Father." A deep, cold voice spoke up, low and concise. "Carter, you have been unreachable lately. I expect a valid explanation from you why you keep ignoring my calls." I rubbed my nose with the back of my palm. "I've been busy, father. Business as usual" Silence crept in for a little moment. I smiled when he sighed heavily. "You should know why I have called and through this line." "I figured," I answered, visibly irritated. Topic of marriage and all the crap talk that comes with it. My father continued, ignoring my tone. "This is the last time I will say this and this time, I'm giving you a condition and an ultimatum." I held my breath. My hand suddenly felt cold. "In three days, I'm retiring finally and I have to hand over my fortune to a capable hand. As my first son, you are to be taken up from where I've stopped. But your stubbornness and foolishness will eventually cost your position as the heir." Here came the anticipated words. "Bring a wife home and solidify your stance." But he said something I never expected. "Otherwise, you have new competition. Roman will take everything, including your establishment. You have one week or kiss everything goodbye." The call abruptly ended before I could respond. "Fuck." I ran my fingers through my hair, disturbed and torn apart. My father has always threatened me about not handing over the Cartel to me if I don't bring a wife to him. The old man needed grandkids badly. He triggered something inside when he mentioned the name, Roman, my stepbrother. I despised Roman more than anyone else. He had a talent for getting under my skin and always making my life miserable. He constantly sought competition with me, and he was infuriatingly good at it. Now, out of nowhere, my father brings him into the picture. I wish I could throttle him with my own hands. There's no way I'm going to let everything I built into that bastard's hand. I had to sort the matter out as soon as possible. "Roman isn't going to destroy all I've built, not while I live." I made my way to my office in brisk steps, my mind weighing different options. I needed to do something, anything to free the burden on my neck, probably to stall the rage of my father. Then it struck me. I'd find a woman to stand in as a wife on a contract. At least, my father would get off my back and the inheritance would be mine. My lips curled up in a sinister smile as the imagery of the thought played in my head. It was time I called in some favours. I rang the bell underneath my table, a guard hurried in. "Sir." "Have Rodrigo here, now," I said. As the guard exited the room, I leaned back in my seat, closing my eyes. I could only hope the plan goes well. Rodrigo, my aide, arrived in minutes. "Boss, you called?" "You're a mess." Blood stains had marred his clothes, he had some dried-up blood on his face. "Sit, I want us to rub minds together and fast. My father has given a deadline, one fucking week." I took my time to outline what I had in mind and asked for his opinion. "It sounds like a good idea. I think I have someone in mind who would help out in a way." And again as always, Rodrigo to the rescue. All that is left is to watch the plan roll in motion. I retrieved my black overall jacket hung on my chair. "Let's pay a visit to him, shall we?" Rodrigo and I shared one sinister smile.