Storm Clouds Rising: A Chuck McCain Novel by David Spell

Author:David Spell [Spell, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-09-13T22:00:00+00:00

Atlanta, Georgia, Thursday, 2130 hours

Juan Guerra was panting with exertion, standing in front of the bloody figure in front of him. Marcelo ‘El Loco’ Martinez didn’t look so crazy right now, his motionless nude form strapped to the wooden chair in the middle of the basement. His chin lay against his chest, blood pouring from multiple lacerations on his face and skull. Twenty other members of the Atlanta chapter of the Nueva Generación Cartel stood in a circle, silently observing the spectacle in front of them. The head gangster wore his trademark white singlet, flecked with blood and sweat, along with baggy jeans. Instead of long hair, however, he now sported a shaved skull. A freshly inked “NG” was tattooed across the top of his head.

“You think you can steal from your own family, you piece of shit?” Juan screamed, his face inches away from the battered man.

The gangster slammed another right hand into Marcelo’s head. Guerra spat in El Loco’s face and reached over to the small table against the wall, grabbing an open shoe box. He threw it into the chest of Martinez, the green currency fluttering into the air.

“Was it worth it, El Loco? Huh? Was it worth it?” the gangster yelled again, this time grabbing a handful of hair, pulling back so that he could peer into the unresponsive man’s swollen eyes.

Pablo Cortes watched with horror as Guerra beat his lieutenant and right-hand man senseless. Marcelo’s face was unrecognizable: both eyes damaged, his nose crushed and flattened against his face, most of his teeth cracked, shattered, or knocked out. Juan wasn’t just roughing up Martinez, he was punishing him, making him an example to everyone. The brass knuckles that Guerra wore on both hands had rendered the man unconscious, possibly even dead.

Cortes felt his stomach getting queasy, wondering if he was next. He’d known that El Loco had been skimming money off their profits from drugs and prostitution. Pablo had never confronted his subordinate because, if he was honest with himself, he’d been scared of him. Even though Cortes had been the leader of the New Generation Cartel in Atlanta, he hated confrontation and especially hated violence.

Cartel head Vincente Villarreal was Pablo’s cousin. He suspected that Vincente had sent him to Atlanta to give him a chance to prove himself. After almost a year, his cousin had decided that he had made a mistake, sending Juan to replace him. Guerra had shown up a few weeks earlier with some of his men from DC. Tito the midget, Daniel Guzmán, and Reinaldo Rodriguez would be the new leadership team for the NG in Atlanta.

Juan had not rushed into making any changes, watching Cortes and Martinez for several weeks, trying to decide how they could still be utilized. Pablo had tried to warn Marcelo that he needed to watch himself or he would be on the receiving end of Guerra’s wrath. After a month, though, things had come to a head.

Guerra had suspected that El Loco was snorting cocaine throughout the day.

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