Not one person says a fucking word as we follow these fucktards up into Petra’s open garage. Shit is fucking weird he isn’t here anymore.

My brother takes a seat in the fucking old, torn up chair he always sits in when we come here, and we close flank around him. Our guards will not go down, so they are wasting their time if they think we will ease up.

“Petra was a friend,” Braxx says and the tall, skinny fuck I assume is the dude in charge says nothing in return. He sits there and rubs at his chin as he mean-mugs my brother. “I run this town and Petra used that to his advantage of gainin’ clientele. Everyone that knew his pipelines happens to be iced, and all that is left is me,” he says while he lights a smoke. “Before you get your cartel panties in a twist, I’m here to tell you we don’t want the fuckin’ drug business. I’m willing to offer up all the info Petra had stored in his damn head. It comes at a price, of course. We want to stay the fuck out of it. I give you the information you need, and in return, you keep us the fuck out of it, and we still get our cuts when hookin’ you up with more vendors.”

That gets the drug lord's attention. He sits up, and in a thick accent says, “That easy? Some dollars on the dime and you offer up the shit I need?”

I don’t know how they do shit in Mexico, but here in Jamaica Nevada, this is how we run our shit.

“That fuckin’ easy,” my brother responds.

“Carlos, get this man a fuckin’ notebook,” the drug lord orders one of his men. “You don’t order for personal use?”

My brother laughs. “Of course we do. We have a few people we sell to, but nothing big like Petra had runnin’. I’ll put our usual down on the pad of paper as well. You want to be in the know when it comes to the drug business in this area. You need to befriend an informant named Juan. I’ll write down his contact info. You’ll never meet him. He’s a ghost and runs on burner phones.”

After Braxxon says this, Pyro takes out his phone and shoots off a text to Juan to let him know to be expecting these fuckers to contact.

“Juan is impressive. If he dumps a phone, he somehow has this magic, fuckin’ goddamn skill to let everyone know. He calls or you call, and after you get what you want from him, he tells you a drop off point for his pay, and that’s it.” Prez erupts in laughter. “Don’t try scoutin’ out the place to find out what he looks like. You’ll be wastin’ your motherfuckin’ time. When I say ghost, I mean he is a fuckin’ ghost.”

I would love to know what Juan looks like. We’ve all talked about it before. We know we have seen him around, and he is most likely a friend we know who goes by a name different than the informant. There is no way in hell he has eluded us for all these years, in the town we have in our pocket.

“I ask, one boss to another, that you don’t fuck with my informant. If you decide to use him, respect my town and me by not fuckin’ it up. Juan will always be valuable to the illegal community, and there would be a lot of pissed off fuckers if something were to happen to him.”

The drug lord eyes Braxx and uses a tone that pisses us all off. “Is that a threat?”

My brother crosses his ankles and answers him. “You’re the fucking Mexican cartel. I wouldn’t threaten you, I’m not a goddamn fool, but I do know how business goes. You’re comin’ into my town, and you need somethin’ from me. In return, I ask for a little spendin’ paper, and to be respectful of what I have fuckin’ built. You don’t see our asses down in Mexico, do you?”

I can’t help but snort and my brother chuckles.

“You make a valid point, although, do you think I give a shit if this is your town or not?”

I cock my gun with his response. He had to go and fuck this shit up.

“There is nothin’ left to discuss. I’ll prepare for a turf war, then,” my brother says while he stands. I move closer to him.

“Wait,” the drug lord orders while he stands.

My brother doesn’t move. He is waiting for this fucker to piss him off some more. It will fuel the fire he wants to rage now.

“There is no wait. You said you don’t give a shit if this is my town or not. That means you have a problem with respect, and I ain’t got time for motherfuckers like you. You may be the fuckin’ cartel, but let me tell you somethin’. You think this town will deal with you fuckers comin’ in like you own the place? They’d rather be scared of us than the cartel,” he seethes. “I have the fuckin’ entire town in my pocket, and a wife whose money would squash yours. You want to play, we’re gonna fuckin’ play.”

I would call my brother a goddamn idiot for mentioning his wife’s money, but he’s playin’ his cards. He is letting this fucker know that he has the power and the funds to fight until the end. Protection around Winter is going to be tenfold now. She is going to be fucking pissed.

The drug lord’s men cock their guns, and the echoes of ours follow.

“Go ahead and shoot. My brother, who you don’t need to know because he’ll pick you off before you can pull your triggers, will have iced most of your men. Then where will you be? A squattin’ dick in someone else’s town without protection.”

My trigger finger is doing a happy dance. It begs me to pull it back and kill these fuckwads.

“Now that is a fuckin’ threat, you dumbass. You’ve had your chance. We’re outta here. Fuck with my town, and we’ll pick you off one by one. Don’t believe me? Call up the Russian mafia. We picked them fuckers off one by one until there were a few left, and those few ran off with their cocks tucked.”