MIGUEL smashed the front door open and the doorknob crashed into the wall, leaving a jagged hole in the plaster.
“Fuck! They stole four of mine, and murdered Jorge! What they take from me, I take from them!”
Sandra pushed back in the living room chair.
The gang members set their playing cards on the coffee table and sat on the sofa, hands at their sides.
Not a breath was heard.
No one dared to speak or flinch while Miguel raged. He once sliced a member’s head off with one stroke of his machete for adjusting his balls during a meeting, and then displayed the head before torching it in the fireplace. Then he forced her to clean up the blood. Bleach took care of the blood, but the stench of burning flesh made her vomit in her mouth. She smelled it for days, and it still came back to her in her nightmares.
Two members slinked past the open door.
Miguel raised his palms at them. “Well?”
“Hector and Carlos were shot. We saw it. Two ICE took ‘em down. They took them to Samaritan, and that’s where they took that cop bitch who killed Jorge. Suffolk County police have Slayer and Marcos, and his stash.”
Miguel stared at the two and strode toward them, machete in hand, stopping within striking distance.
No one averted their eyes. Punishment was to be observed.
“Talk to me,” Miguel said.
“The one calling for an ambulance for the bitch called himself Captain Jeffrey Corrigan, and the bitch’s name is Stephanie. She isn’t ICE, so she’s either a cop or FBI,” one said.
“Bring me the Captain. He knows all their names. We’ll round them up, and the Captain can watch them beg. He’ll go last.” Miguel raised his machete. “I’ll give you five days, one day for every one I lost! Otherwise…I’ll have to replace two more.”
Miguel waved the two members off. “Get out of my sight.”
They nodded and backed out the door. Turning away from Miguel earned you a beating.
Miguel pointed at Sandra and crooked his finger.
Shit. Not now. She was still hurting from the other night.
Sandra stood and walked over to him.
“You’re going to finish what you started, and I don’t care how you do it.”
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