Running Wild Read Online Free PDF Page B

business.”
    Cold comfort, Joaquin thought, to the man he’d seen Munoz gun down while still in the grip of this temper that had no place.
    But that had no bearing on the here and now. He shoved the memory into a shadowy corner of his mind as the older man stood aside and indicated he should step into his office.
    “The fault is not entirely yours,” Munoz said in a rare near-apologetic tone as he rounded his desk to take his seat. He waved Joaquin into one of the two guest chairs. “As it turns out, the blame in this instance can be laid at my
madre’s
feet.”
    Joaquin shivered and surreptitiously crossed himself. He had no idea how old the venerable Augustina Munoz was. If he were to judge by her thick, sturdy shoes, eye-liftingly tight bun and perpetual black, head-to-toe clothing, he’d say she must be closing in on the hundred-year mark. Yet considering how surprised he’d be if Victor had reached his fiftieth birthday, that probably wasn’t so. Unless, of course, she had her son late in life.
    But he was once again veering from the track. He’d only wondered about her age because Senora Munoz wasn’t even five feet tall and she was a scrawny little thing. He doubted she’d tip the scales at a hundred pounds if she was soaking wet and had a concrete block tied to one ankle.
    But the woman was crazy scary. He licked lips gone dry at the mere thought of what she could do and whispered the unthinkable aloud. “She threatened you with the
mal
de
ojo,
didn’t she?”
    Anyone who had half a brain knew not to displease Mama Munoz. She’d lock you in the crosshairs of her evil eye in a heartbeat and your cojones would shrivel up and fall off.
    And
that
was only if she was feeling charitable.
    All the same...
    “But, no,” he said, shaking his head as he answered his own question. “A mother would never do that to her own son.”
    “Mine would,” Munoz disagreed. “And she did. She has strong opinions, my
mamita
.” To Joaquin’s surprise, the older man sounded proud of the fact. But the pleasure in his eyes faded as he focused on Joaquin.
    “You know as well as I do,” Victor said, “that the Deluca woman has been a thorn in my side for some time now with her constant interference in my business. I speak, of course, of the missionary, not the daughter you failed to bring me.” Annoyance snapped in Victor’s eyes and his voice grew clipped with the unnecessary clarification, causing Joaquin’s blood to cool considerably.
    But then the older man seemed to forget his pique as he selected a cigarillo from the ornate humidor on his desk. He didn’t bother offering Joaquin one, but Joaquin was perfectly happy to be ignored when he saw how, in the wake of lighting the small cigar with a gold lighter, Munoz seemed to wave his spurt of displeasure away along with the perfect blue smoke ring he blew out. Then the drug lord turned his attention back to the subject under discussion.
    “I was through having my new recruits tell me they couldn’t run drugs because Senora Deluca said it was wrong. But when I said to my lieutenant in the privacy of this office that the mouthy Deluca needs to be silenced once and for all, my mama, who is studying her Bible two floors away, she sends for me and says no killing of the missionary. The woman has the ears of a ghost bat and she insists that even though the Deluca is a Baptist and not one of the True Faith, she is a woman who does good works and makes our people’s lives better.” He fixed his gaze on Joaquin. “So I expect you to find Deluca’s daughter and bring her to me. She’s my leverage to make the missionary toe the line.”
    “I’m not sure where she is,” Joaquin admitted. “The man, he knocked me out so I didn’t see which way she leaves. All I know for certain is she is driving a—how do you say it?—a ruin of a rental car.”
    “A wreck?”
    “
Sí
. This.”
    Munoz pinned him in his sights. “Then track this rental car down—it’s a place