Mega #02 Baja Blood Read Free

promise,” Espanoza said, pointing at one of the techs that were busy securing the subs to the docks.
    An armed man walked over to the tech, raised his AK-47 sub-machine gun, and put three bullets in the tech’s back. The tech screamed and fell forward, plunging into the water between two of the subs. The man fired again and again, peppering the floating body with bullets before it slowly sank below the surface.
    “Let me ask again,” Espanoza said, his face passive, the complete opposite of everyone else’s faces in the marina hangar. “Are they ready as promised, James?”
    McCarthy looked back at Dr. Morganton, his eyes pleading with her. She took a deep breath and finally nodded.
    “Yeah, they’re ready,” McCarthy said. “We can deliver them to you tomorrow.”
    “No, I don’t think so, James,” Espanoza said. “I am in need of them today. You said ready today so I made plans for today.”
    He waved a hand and one of the men stepped forward and leaned in close as Espanoza whispered to him. After some brief instructions, the man hurried off out of the hangar while the other men remained where they stood, sub-machine guns at the ready.
    “Jimmy?” John asked, taking a step closer to McCarthy. Guns were turned on him instantly. “What the fuck is going on? Who is this psycho asshole?”
    There were intakes of breath from several of the armed men and they moved forward, but Espanoza held up his hand and they stopped in place.
    “Ricardo Espanoza at your service, Mr. Sherman,” Espanoza said, walking over and offering his hand. “You may call me Mr. Espanoza. I am not fond of being called asshole. However, I do not mind psycho. It has flair.”
    John looked at where the body had just sunk then at the armed men. He reluctantly shook Espanoza’s hand.
    “Okay, Mr. Espanoza, who the fuck are you?” John asked.
    “John, not now,” McCarthy warned. “Just hang tight, okay? I’ll explain later.”
    “You keep your men in the dark?” Espanoza asked McCarthy. “Good practice, James. Never give out information unless you absolutely have to. Information is currency in this world.”
    A large cargo door began to roll up into the top of the hangar and a truck beeped shrilly as it backed into the space, headed for the dock everyone stood upon.
    “But there are many types of currencies,” Espanoza laughed. “Some more valuable than others.”
    The truck stopped and Espanoza snapped his fingers. Half his men hurried to the truck, lifting the back door to reveal several white bundles wrapped in heavy-duty plastic. Each bundle was the size of a large barrel and it took two men each to pull the bundles out of the truck and onto the dock. When they were finished, there were a total of sixty bundles waiting by the water.
    “Jesus,” Bart said. “Is that…?”
    “It is,” Espanoza smiled. “Never seen that much coca before, Mr. Stern?”
    “How do you know my name?” Bart asked, looking over at McCarthy. “How does he know my name?”
    “I know all of your names,” Espanoza said. “Information as currency, remember?”
    “But I don’t know you,” John said, his face scrunched up in anger. “How about you tell us who you are?”
    “John!” McCarthy snapped. “Clam it!”
    “No, no, no, that’s fine, James,” Espanoza said. “I have already said my name, but I assume you want to know what I do since that truly defines a man.” With barely a movement, he had a 9mm pistol in his hand, pointed at a spot right between John’s eyes. “I am the man in charge. There is no disputing that. And I am the man that holds your life in my hands. Would you like to live, Mr. Sherman?”
    “Yeah, I would,” John replied, not impressed with the pistol pointed at him. “But that’s not up to me, is it?”
    “No, it is not,” Espanoza replied. “I am very glad you are realizing that. Do you need me to explain myself more, Mr. Sherman? Or can you infer from what is happening around you what it is I really