Smugglers 3 Accidental Kingpin Read Free

done, and the kids were getting off the school bus in front of the house.
    I hugged my cute little Mariposa, my beautiful butterfly.  Vicente didn’t like to be hugged anymore, so I high-fived him.
    “Are you okay?” Lucia asked as I went to the kitchen to dig up some snacks for the kids.
    “Sure. I just feel like hanging with the kids,” I said. “And you, too,” I added. The two of us hadn’t been close for a while; in fact, I couldn’t even remember the last time we’d made love.
    I stuck close to home that entire week, keeping an eye open for strange cars driving by or any other unusual activity. When we’d found the cooler floating in the ocean, we had opened a door, not knowing that there was a five hundred pound tiger on the other side. I was on full alert.
    We guys met at my house the following Sunday and took a vote. Each of us had become accustomed to large amounts of easy money and the new lifestyles money provided. It was unanimous to continue our sales.
    “I want to get those dirt bags,” I added after the vote. “Who is with me?”
    Tomas was quick to answer. “Death is too good for them, so I think they should suffer before they meet their maker.”
    “I’m in,” Juan said.
    “Me too,” added Roberto. “And I want our money back.”
    “I’ll set things up and get back to you,” I said, slapping my knee with satisfaction. “Who wants another beer?”
    We partied like there was no tomorrow, and after the guys left, I drove over to Rihanna’s and fucked her brains out.
    Later that week, I bought an old car for cash and tracked down the kidnapper’s house. It didn’t take long for me to find him. I scoped his place out over the next several days. There was no sign of him before noon, ever. I discovered he had an apartment in Miami, giving him better access to nightlife. Suspicious characters stopped by the house or met him at the apartment, and I was sure one of them was the driver of the SUV that had dumped Tomas off.
    We hatched a plot to kidnap the South American one night when he was leaving a bar, when he was hopefully too drunk to defend himself. 
    One night, he left a bar with the guy who had probably driven the SUV, so we followed them into the parking lot, pretending we were heading to our car.  We let Tomas take the first swing at the driver, who he hit in the head with a fish bat and knocked him out. Meanwhile, I put my gun in the South American’s face, disarmed him and shoved him in the trunk.
    We drove him to a house we had rented for just this purpose.
    We’d prepared the house ahead of time. We had sealed the single window in a bedroom with one-inch plywood and three-inch screws. The room was connected to a bathroom and had a single bed with a twelve-foot chain bolted to the bed. We attached the other end of the chain to his ankle. The bed was screwed down to the floor, and one of us would be on guard twenty four hours a day.
    We quickly persuaded him to give us the number of the main man who had our money.
    I made the call. “Your pretty boy is tied up right now, but he wants you to rescue him. We can’t let that happen, though, unless we get our money back.” They didn’t know it, but we had decided we would not kill our captive, as we just wanted our money.
    “I’m listening,” said the voice on the other end of the connection.
    “You know that 7-Eleven near the causeway? Drive there and park at the east end at exactly 10 tonight. I’ll pull in behind you and flash my lights. That’s your cue to get out and walk to the orange trash can that will be by the front door. Bring the money in a plastic shopping bag and drop it into the can. Then get back in your car.”
    The drop went exactly as we planned: the guy walked up to the orange can, dropped the plastic bag there and turned back to walk to his car blocked by mine. As I backed up and put my car into forward, Juan walked out of the store, casually retrieving the bag of money. I pulled up, he jumped into