CHAPTER 83 Payment


    Veronica Ortiz, Houston, Texas


    I was seated in my office behind my desk at my Houston mansion wearing a white Chanel suit, one of


    my favorite pieces in my wardrobe. My long salt and pepper hair was styled in an ornate bun and a


    thick gold and diamond ne restedfortably around my neck. It was a nice sunny day and the


    breeze entering my office was weing.


    When I was a child, I pictured myself as an astronaut or a teacher. I never wanted this life, but it was


    the only life I have ever known. Yes, I wouldn’t be able to afford this Chanel suit. on a teacher’s sry,


    but at least I could hold my head up high, proud of myself at what I have aplished.


    I sighed as I watched the trees sway with the breeze. Life never goes as nned. Instead of being a


    poor teacher, I was rich and lived in a glorious multi-million dor mansion, but I wasn’t proud of myself.


    Not one bit.


    If there was one thing I was proud of, it was my son. He moved away from this life and opted to be a


    doctor. He goes around the world fixing poor children’s smiles for free, his way of


    giving back for what our family has taken.


    Yet, things would be way worse if I didn’t sit at the very top. Before I became the Godfather, the Angels


    of Darkness was spiraling out of control. Pride is a nasty thing. Once a made man reaches a certain


    rank, he believes anything he does is just and right, even if he tra mples on the innocent. Power like


    that is ungodly.


    My grandfather who was the Godfather when I was young always told me we may be considered


    criminals in the eyes of the government, but to the people who had nothing, we were seen as heroes.


    We should never force our will on others, instead allow them to make


    choices of their own..


    My family started their smuggling enterprise tobat the rising prices of goods. Employment was


    dismal and pay was even worse. Hard working people working double jobs couldn’t even afford to buy


    a nice television set for their family or an electric fan to fight the heat. With our smuggled goods, weContent (C) N?v/elDra/ma.Org.


    provided them those luxuries at a price they could afford.


    But the world suddenly became an ugly ce, all driven by money and the need for power. When my


    father became the Godfather, he decided to reign over all criminal activity. Drugs, prostitution,


    gambling… he oversaw all. Yet, he wanted his minions to act in a civilized manner, killing those who


    overstep their limitations. This continued until my father died,


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    CHAPTER 83 Payment


    shot in the chest, by those who believed his rules to be bu lls hit. When my brother inherited the


    position, he was so unlike my father, he allowed his members to run amok. This caused. problems with


    the neighboring reigning mafia organizations. So I had to intervene before it could get any worse.


    It was a pity to watch my brother die. But those under the Angels of Darkness had to learn. there was a


    price to pay for their actions..


    A knock on my office door interrupted my thoughts. I moved my chair to the center and sat up properly.


    “Come in,” I said, fixing my Chanel suit. The door opened and in came my consigliere. He was my right


    hand, an indispensable member of the Angels of Darkness. Just like me, he had white in his hair, a


    testimony to our age. He was nicely dressed in a dark blue suit, but he had a grim expression on his


    face. Obviously, there was a problem.


    “Do?a, we have an undocumented delivery at The Blues Club,” Lorenzo announced unexpectedly. “It’s


    from North Dakota.”


    “North Dakota?” I asked, puzzled. “From Pedro?” I detested the name Peter. He was born Rafael Pedro


    Cadena Jr., after my poor nephew. However, his mother believed it was in our best interest if he were


    to blend in with the Americans so the Blood Disciples would not find. him.


    “No, Do?a,” Lorenzo replied. “The delivery men said it was from a group called the “Tres Caballeros”.


    The men have already taken the cargo out. Wine crates filled with money. I estimate it to be over two


    million dors. One had an envelope with this inside it.” He ced the USB on my table.


    “Tres Caballeros… The three gentlemen, you say? Odd. Have you checked it for viruses?” I asked.


    “Yes, Do?a,” Lorenzo said. “It’s clean.”


    “What’s on it?” I asked, intrigued.


    “It seems there are problems in New Salem. I called De Vega to confirm. He told me Pedro apparently


    kidnapped and raped Ariana,” Lorenzo said sadly.


    “What?! Why was I not informed of this?” I asked, grabbing the USB and cing it into myptop.


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    “It’s p


    in


    enzo admitted. “I heard of thisst month, but I did not conduct an.upied with our problems at the


    port.”


    old.


    .That was a big problem. It’s not your fault if you forgot. I, too, am ol anderstand,” I said, scanning


    through the contents of the USB. The problem would have cost me millions. I couldn’t let those sharks


    at customs take my ndise. “Have you called Pedro?”


    y, his phone is off. Do?a, I have more bad news. Pedro’s mother is dead and Theodore hen is in the


    hospital,” Lorenzo said. “I asked De Vega if he killed Pedro’s mother, he


    enies it.”


    Call Nestor,” I said. “Someone needs to exin why so much has happened without me knowing!”


    Lorenzo dialed Nestor’s number and put my phone on speaker.


    “Do?a Ortiz, what do I owe the pleasure?” He sounded amused to my surprise.


    “Cynthia McDowell… is she dead?” I asked.


    “Si, Do?a,” he said. “Recently buried.”


    “How did she die?” I asked.


    “Shot at her own home by a s niper rifle De Vega smuggles,” he answered. I pursed my lips. Just like


    what happened to Rafael. Could it be the Blood Disciples again? I doubted it.


    “And Theodore Cohen?”


    “Abducted by Pedro,” Nestor replied. “He wanted to make a deal with Liam Cohen, so he took. him.” I


    grimaced. Pedro was turning out to be like his father. “A deal was made at the funeral home during


    Cynthia’s viewing, but a fire broke out. There was some sort of explosion which the firefighters are still


    investigating. Theodore Cohen was hurt as a result. He’s in the hospital with a strict no visitors policy.”


    “I tried calling Pedro, but his phone is off. Where is he?” I asked.


    “He fled. I don’t know where to,” Nestor answered.


    “I need you to rify this for me, Nestor. Did Pedro kidnap and rape Ariana De Vega?”


    “Yes, he did. He admitted to the crime and I have a recording of him admitting to it,” Nestor answered.


    “To make a long story short, while he apanied his friend, Cris Murdock, to


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    Ariana at a club in Chicago. He offered her a drink and he shrugged him hurt, thus, to teach her a


    lesson, he abducted her and raped her, only to


    as looking for her. He set her free, but the damage had already been done. m viting my limitations


    as a mere capo, but your underboss is more with kidnapping and turning women into se x  ves for


    his utter amusement er than the business. It has gotten so bad he did it to one of our own.”


    That’s alright, Nestor. I value your opinions. My father was the same with your father,” I said.


    “Thank you, Do?a, for your confidence. Unfortunately, my hands are tied. Although I have explicitly told


    Pedro not to, he repeatedly ignores my warnings,” Nestor said, sighing.


    “You’re in charge, Nestor. If you find out where he is, give me a call. I will deal with this,” I


    instructed him.


    “Si, Do?a,” he agreed and hung up.


    So why


    Lorenzo.


    why were


    we given money? Information like this is bought, not given freely,” I told


    “Yes, about that…The money was sent by a woman named Joy,” Lorenzo answered, cing at piece of


    paper on my desk. “As payment. In return, she wants Pedro to die by her hand without any interference


    from the organization.


    I took the piece of paper and read it. My nephew has been hiding his extracurricr activities. This


    woman must have been one of his many victims.


    Like all women, I detested rapists. If it were me, I would cut Pedro’s penis off with a Bu tcher’s knife


    and let him bleed to death.


    “I was about to ask you to check all chartered flights from the WNCS, so I could deal with Pedro, but


    there seems to be one who is willing to pay to carry out my ns. Tell the delivery men, I agree to her


    terms. And Lorenzo, tell De Vega to stand down. Joy will give him the revenge he seeks.”


    “Of course, Do?a. What else do you need me to take care of before I go?” Lorenzo asked.


    “Send flowers to the grave site of Cynthia McDowell, something big and borate, so Pedro knows it’s


    from me,” I said, smiling.


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