Failed State (A James Winchester Thriller Book 1) (James Winchester Series) by James Samuel (best selling autobiographies TXT) 📕

a shell of his former self, nobody could contend with a hungry young man like Fernando. Besides, according to his sources, Fernando held considerable respect among his peers.

“What are you going to do first?” asked Blake.

“Make sure everyone falls into line.”

Blake leaned back on the pew and crossed one leg over the other. “Intelligent. But then what? Continuing the war with Montoya shouldn’t be the priority. Be more ambitious. Montoya will fall sooner or later, then what?”

“I’ll decide what we do, not you, gringo.”

“Remember who put you in power,” Blake snarled. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with. It’s why your boss is dying as we speak and you’re sitting in this church.”

“What do you want from me?”

“It’s quite simple. Continue this aggressive expansion and take Mexico. Your progress thus far demonstrates you have the ability to do it.”

Fernando turned to him with a look of disbelief. “Come on, that’s not what you want.”

“Expand this war for me. The reasons why don’t matter.”

Fernando turned away from him again and focused on the altarpiece.

“That’s the price. I don’t want you to stop. I want you to be to Mexico what Pablo Escobar was to Colombia.”

Fernando recoiled from him. “What, are you in the business or something?”

“I’m not.”

Fernando didn’t respond. It didn’t bother Blake in the slightest as he allowed the tension to settle between them. Blake wanted the wheels of Fernando’s mind to turn and process his newfound power. The young narco would soon get greedy and split the whole country into petty narco kingdoms. His client would be delighted with the chaos. Lots of smaller warring cartels gave him more bargaining power in his line of work.

“How?” Fernando said at last.

“Use Roberto Romero. He’s your man, but I’m sure you already know that.”

Fernando folded his arms. “That’s all?”

“That’s all. Use your full potential.”

“Fine.” Fernando got up and walked away.

Blake lingered in the near-total silence of the cathedral, enjoying how well everything had gone so far. Fernando had indeed taken up the mantel of leadership well. He’d killed the boy. The man had been born.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Yuriria, Guanajuato, Mexico

James sprinted through the abandoned half of the hacienda. His thoughts were not for his safety but for Jessi. The girl he’d only just met. He heard the screams and the sound of a struggle. Gunfire popped throughout the hacienda. Every shot gave him hope. Every silence made him fear the worst.

He halted at the upper levels, mindful of Quezada’s man. James levelled his gun and advanced across the top balcony.

James gained only a few steps when a heavy weight slammed into him, forcing him against the wall. Quezada’s man barrelled from one of the empty rooms. He hammered desperately onto the man’s thick back. James managed to throw the larger man off for a moment before a meaty fist caught him on the nose.

He tasted his own hot, coppery blood as his nose exploded. James folded up like a cheap garden chair as the man smashed him in the ribs with another meaty fist.

“Puto, gringo.”

James buried his shoulder into the man’s ribcage and drove him back towards the opposite wall. The man elbowed him on the top of his spine. The sharp pain rocketed through his spinal cord.

He slammed his fist between the man’s legs. Quezada’s man stopped, frozen as the pain hit him like a solid wall. James hit him in the same place again and the man sank to the ground holding himself.

James grabbed him by the collar of his shirt before he could hit the ground and hauled him towards the balcony wall. He heaved his heavy form over the top. The man screamed before hitting the ground headfirst.

He fell against the wall, looking down at the man he’d just murdered. He took in deep gulps of air. Wiping some of the blood from his lips, he fingered the bridge of his nose. Still intact. Still unbroken.

Jessi screamed again. Roused, he snatched up his gun. This time he had no trouble locating Jessi. He ran through the open door to what seemed like an old bedroom of some kind. The mattress had long since gone and only the wooden frame remained. He found Quezada throwing Jessi around by the hair.

James levelled his weapon at Quezada. “Let her go.”

Quezada’s eyes swept him up and down. The perfect face given to him by the best plastic surgeons in North America carried an arrogance about it. The icy blue eyes didn’t match his compatriots. One look chilled him.

“She’s my wife,” said Quezada. “I do what I like with her.”

“I’m not your wife,” Jessi shrieked.

“Shut up.” Quezada bent her neck at an awkward angle and forced his gun into her temple. “I’ll kill you.”

Rage erupted like bile as he watched tears running down Jessi’s face. He never lowered his weapon, but he couldn’t get him in his sights. Quezada wasn’t stupid. This wasn’t like the movies where the kidnapper stared at his attackers over the shoulder of his captive to give them a shot. Quezada didn’t move his head out from behind Jessi’s for more than a split second.

“Put your gun down,” said Quezada. “Or I’ll kill her now.”

James’ arm shook with anger and fear. He could slay Quezada now if he wanted, but the price would be Jessi. Another agent would have taken the shot. Diego would have opened fire. Blake too. But he couldn’t.

“Why would I do that?” asked James. “You think I trust you?”

“I don’t care if you trust me, gringo. Drop the gun. Last chance or I kill her. You think I care about her?”

James didn’t need to answer that. He knew Quezada didn’t care about her. He didn’t love her. She was a tool. Against his better judgement, he lowered his weapon.

“Fine.” James