Smugglers 3 Accidental Kingpin Read Free Page A

the car and I sped off.
    We thought all had gone smoothly as I turned the car toward my house where we planned to divide the money up. Suddenly, a car I’d never seen before pulled up beside us, and the car in front of us came to a sharp stop.
    I jammed on the brakes and yelled, “You sonsabitches!”
    Tomas was riding shotgun with me literally and had a 12-gauge pump full of double 0 Buck. We had all been trained by the US Army and had done time in Afghanistan, so we were taught to never run. Like a well-oiled machine, we jumped out quickly and took our places, me to face the car behind us with two big chip 9’s and Tomas heading toward the car in the front.
    I shot at the rear car, blasting out the front window, giving me a straight shot at the men in the car. They never had a chance.
    Tomas fired into the rear window of the car ahead of us, and within seconds, it was all over. The two cars were full of holes, and all six of the occupants were dead. I knew at this point that we had to go back and dispose of our captive, so I went to the rental and finished him off. 
    We rendezvoused back at my house where we divided up the money and discussed the events of the day.
    “Let’s face it,” I said, “we are no longer just dabbling in the drug business. We just killed seven people and could be up to our eyeballs in murder charges.”
    “We have to get rid of all the guns we used at the scene,” Roberto said.
    “I’ll get rid of my two 9 s and get new ones,” I agreed. “It’s not a good idea to buy guns on the street. We’ll buy new ones from stores or dealers on the side. If you get a gun on the street you don’t know where it has been. It could have been used in a murder or bank robbery, and you could be stopped and linked to these crimes and go to jail.”
    We agreed to always buy new guns and deep six them as needed. Meanwhile, we would keep our jobs for cover and not spend excessive amounts of money.
    Tomas and Roberto had already bought bigger houses, not mansions, because of our poor Cuban upbringing, but we needed to stay “within our means” so as not to attract too much attention.
    Tomas, Roberto and Juan continued developing dealers, and I kept cutting and providing the cocaine for the deals. We were making money hand over fist and were at half million a month at this point. There was no word on the seven dead men. No connection was made to us at all.
    It wasn’t long before we had over a million in cash at home, and the money was trying to burn a hole in our pockets. We were getting cocky and sloppy like we had just before Tomas’s kidnapping. We got to acting like we were bullet proof.
    I discovered that Roberto was selling more than triple what the other two were selling. I brought this up at one of our weekend meeting s, and after some prodding we found out that he had dealers with lots of street dealers who were able to turn the goods quickly. After much discussion, Tomas and Juan decided to do the same so we would deplete our supply sooner, which would allow us to retire from the drug business and just live the good life.
    Within a week our sales more than doubled, and in two more weeks it doubled again. We were at the half way point for goods and selling faster and faster.
    One day when going through Hialeah on my way to a pipe sales call at City Hall, I was pulled over by a plain clothes cop car. I thought it was for speeding, but when the two policemen got close to my car, they separated, and one went on each side. I handed the one on my side my driver’s license and insurance card.
    “We have the four of you on tape and your dealers also, so from now on we are your new partners,” he said, holding my license but not looking at it. “We get one hundred thousand a month and in return we eliminate the competition and see to it that you and your wives don’t get busted and go to jail. We know that you don’t want your kids to end up as wards of the state, so we will be at your garage