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the Gulf, and to the Pacific. Shipping lanes to the east and west, the Caribbean, South America, Africa, you name it."

Esperanza let out a scoffing exhale. "Every marketable nation has a coast guard, radar, it would be impossible to move that many ships out of Mexico alone, much less land them safely in other ports around the globe. Moving product by boat isn't a new idea, amigo. We've been doing it for years. Everyone has." He flashed his hands. "We don't do it much anymore. Too many profits lost to the patrol boats on both sides of the shipping lanes."

"I know," Dak said, leaning back. He stopped when he felt his shoulder blades touch the seat, then stretched out his arms across the upper edge. "That's why I think he's going to choose two companies that both run medical supplies to several countries."

Esperanza cocked his head to the side. "Medical supplies?"

Dak confirmed the question with a nod. "Medical supply ships will get first priority to ports, especially in times of crisis. They'll be ushered through the usual channels with fewer checkpoints, fewer questions." Dak knew that was only partially true, but he also knew that the argument made so much sense that Esperanza would almost certainly bite.

"Medical supply ships?"

"Yep," Dak said.

Esperanza pondered the idea for a moment. Dak knew the man was intrigued, and not just by the idea of Mendoza utilizing it. His eyes betrayed his own designs on such a grand scheme.

"Tell me, Dak," Esperanza said quietly. "If what you say is true, how does this information help me get ahead of Mendoza?"

Dak smiled. "You make an offer to both companies that Mendoza can't beat."

The cartel boss scoffed audibly, blowing air through his lips. "That's not possible. Not yet."

"Perhaps you underestimate Mendoza's penchant for a deal. Like I said, he's going to try to drive down the price."

"You don't know that."

"It's what I would do," Dak admitted. "It's what you would do."

Another chuckle. "So, why don't I just step in before his men can do it?"

"You don't have that kind of time. Besides, you don't have to buy the properties. Not yet. Just get the owners to agree in principle. Once you have a verbal agreement in place, it will block Mendoza. Then nothing he does will matter. If he comes after your ships, your warehouses, it still keeps him from building out his empire. And it gives you cause to go into his back yard and raise hell."

"You're leaving out something." Esperanza didn't wait for Dak to ask, and he had a feeling he already knew the answer. "What's your role in all of this?"

"As I stated, I'm going after Luis Martinez. With Mendoza focused on the coasts, I'll make my move and eliminate the man I'm sure has become a bane of your existence."

"Mm," Esperanza agreed. "Yes, he's made things much more difficult. His men are better trained than they were before. I fear we would be annihilated if we risked an all-out assault on their compound." His eyes played around the room to his fallen guards, still nursing their wounds.

"I'm going in alone," Dak said. "It'll be easier for one man to get in than an army."

"That's suicide," Esperanza said.

"That's my problem." He slid out of the booth and flipped a few pesos on the table to cover the drinks.

"You don't have to pay for that," the cartel boss stated.

"I like to leave a good tip."

He turned and made for the door.

"Dak," Esperanza stopped him when he neared the exit. Dak turned around and locked eyes with the man. "When should I make this… offer?"

"Immediately. I'm sure you have an accountant or real estate person who can run the numbers and put in a bid. Make it over the top. And do it soon. Mendoza might already be sending his goons there."

He pushed through the exit and stepped out onto the street, letting the door creak to a close behind him.

Inside, Esperanza stewed with thoughts of cutting off Mendoza's grand scheme. He looked over at the woman next to him. "Make it happen," he said. "And find out who this Dak person is."

"You want me to kill him?"

Esperanza considered the question. "No." He glanced around at his fallen guards one more time. "I have a strange feeling that man might actually be able to pull off his plan."

Twelve

Uruapan

Mendoza stormed through his castle like a tyrant king. His navy blue button-up shirt fluttered in the breeze. The brown, Italian leather shoes on his feet clicked hard with every step, causing the sound to echo throughout the corridors. Two guards hurried to keep up with him on either side, but staggered just behind.

Anyone within earshot knew the boss was angry, though most of the people in the compound were working security detail, patrolling the main building, or the perimeter of the grounds.

He tore around a corner into a wide foyer with arched windows and a matching door that lead out into the courtyard. Through the glass, he saw Luis approaching with a phone pressed to his ear. He wore a look of utter disbelief mingled with a hint of panic.

Mendoza flung open the door, unwilling to wait on one of his guards to do it for him.

When he stepped out into the warm evening air, he drew the gold-plated pistol from a holster on his right hip and pointed it at Luis. Quetzalcoatl, a feathered flying serpent similar to a dragon, adorned the shiny yellow metal, engraved into the side with its tongue ending near the muzzle. The beast represented a deity in ancient Aztec mythology, one of the key players in the creation of mankind.

Luis had been uncertain if the man thought himself to be some kind of messenger of the ancient deity or if he merely liked the way it looked. Either way, with the gun pointed at his head by a man with zero reservations about killing anyone, he knew he was going to have to talk fast.

"What happened to the plan?" Mendoza demanded.

"I'll call you back,"

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