The Relic Runner Origin Story Box Set by Ernest Dempsey (non fiction books to read TXT) 📕

"If you have money, I'll get you whatever you need. Maybe a little more since you apparently think you're a one man-army ready to take on the Mendoza clan."

"I have money," he said.

Her head tilted back. She appraised him with analytical eyes and then lowered her chin. "Be back here tonight. We close at eleven. We'll do business then."

"Thank you," Dak said, pulling the image back under the table and out of sight.

"Don't mention it. To anyone."

He nodded. "Of course."

She turned and started walking back to her office.

"Name's Dak, by the way," he said.

She paused, barely twisted her head toward her left shoulder, and said, "I know." Then she disappeared through the door and into the confines of her office.

Dak looked down at the glass again and raised it. "Well, Carina Perez,” he whispered to himself, “nice to meet you too."

Six

Uruapan

Luis stepped out of the great room on the second floor and onto the veranda. He took a deep breath of the warm, dry air and planted his hands atop the porch's railing. The Mendoza estate sprawled out before him. Trees sporadically popped up along the rolling hills, with a dense forest to the right that hosted a variety of wildlife, including wild game for Mendoza's hunting hobby.

The man prided himself on being an avid hunter and even boasted about his expertise when he hosted parties for his allies. He'd killed an impressive number of animals, but all in a controlled environment with elevated safety measures in place. Luis looked back over his shoulder into the great room at the mounted quarry the cartel's leader had slain over the years.

Luis had no desire to kill animals. He detested the idea. Problematic humans, on the other hand….

Another breath and his frustrations were gone, though a lingering needle still pricked at his brain. Eduardo had been a good soldier. Loyal—at least for a while. Maybe he never really had been. On the outside, the man had played the part perfectly. It caused Luis to wonder how many others might have infiltrated the organization, the organization he was tasked with protecting. If he failed, he knew what would happen.

Eduardo claimed he was protecting the ones he loved most. Luis could identify. It was why he was here, in this situation. In a million years, he never would have guessed he'd return to his familial homeland to work for one of the most dangerous cartels in the country.

Luis detested the situation, but there was no other way.

His parents were stubborn. Owners of a small textile business in Uruapan, they'd been approached for years by the cartels about using their facility as a front for running drugs. The couple always turned them away, despite the growing number of threats.

After the events in Iraq, Luis decided disappearing to Mexico would be the best course of action. There he could drop off the grid and watch over his parents at the same time.

Eventually, Mendoza upped the ante, sending four of his men to burn down the textile shop.

It just so happened Luis was there, working late that night.

The men were armed, but that did little to save them against a seasoned, battle-hardened soldier like Luis, who kept a small arsenal both in his home and at the shop—just in case.

He'd seen the men approaching in their SUV and knew immediately they were there to wreak havoc.

In the end, Luis killed all of them with brutal, tactical efficiency. In the early evening darkness, he loaded each of the bodies into the SUV and drove them to Mendoza's estate, this estate where he now stood watch.

Luis dropped the bodies outside the gate at the bottom of the hill and waited, knowing that cameras were on him at all times. He'd held his hands out wide, unarmed, shouting at the mansion, "Mendoza! I have a gift for you!"

Within minutes, a dozen armed men in trucks arrived at the base of the estate. They surrounded Luis, who still brandished no weapon.

He thought about the moment, just seven months before, and leaned forward on his elbows and watched the sun setting to the west. Streaks of orange and pink spanned the sky, melting into darker shades as the burning sun descended.

Sounds of nature cut through the air now and then, mostly led by various birds chirping, squawking, and whistling in the forest or the garden below.

"It's a beautiful view, no?" a familiar voice interrupted the peaceful silence. “They call this a tequila sunset. In the old days, the workers would toil late into the day on days like this, when the sky was clear and the air warm. And when they were done, they sipped tequila together as the sun set in the west.”

Luis didn't turn around, instead keeping his gaze on the sprawling garden below, full of roses, neatly trimmed hedges, and a concrete fountain in the center of the square-shaped courtyard. The fountain displayed a sculpted angel holding a dying man with robes draped loosely over him. The figure lay across the angel's lap while the holy creature poured an endless stream of water from a jar in one hand. The water spilled over the dying man, a symbol of healing by the divine.

"Yes," Luis answered in Spanish. "It's gorgeous here." He did his best to hide the disgust oozing out of his soul. This man threatened his parents. It would have leaked over to his sister, who lived here. Luis was grateful his brother had remained in the States. Their parents were American citizens, as were his brother and sister, but when Luis' grandparents passed, no one was left to run the family business. Luis begged his parents not to leave the United States, the country they loved and that had given them so much, but they felt there was no choice.

"Roots," his father said, "are as important as anything else."

Mendoza approached and slapped his hand on Luis' back. The old man was shorter than Luis by an inch. His rotund belly stuck out over his belt, stretching