Work Text:
It is not the first time he has ended up on the wrong end of a blade and Camino Del Rio highly doubted that it would be his last. He worked in a nasty business as a Lieutenant in the cartel. The second largest drug cartel actually, something a financial adviser of his always makes a point to mention.
He had been meeting with some distributors outside Guadalajara, low level enough that if he had not already been in the area scouting safe houses he would have been insulted being asked to handle them. As it were, he was the one close enough to deal with them when they started making waves about their cut. As if the pay was not generous enough for the grunt work an invalid could do. When they saw they were not to deal with their regular handler they thought that they could send a message.This time Garcia was not quite quick enough on the draw and Del’s bicep was now suffering for it. It was of no consequence really, the men were dead and ash now and the doctor on the payroll has already cleared him. Three dead man and an arm full of stitches was the outcome instead. All for want of a raise less than the suit that was ruined when the blade slashed through it.
On the plane ride home, Del could not stop pondering the pride of the dead men. To think that they could simply deserve a handout was beyond him. This business requires loyalty and an understanding of hierarchy, and lately there had been too much disrespect. Too much posturing, too much pride and, Del suspected even skimming. This was something he knew he would need to look into but not tonight. Tonight when he got home he would kiss his children. He would apologize to Elena for ruining the suit she had gifted him for his last birthday. He would drink a glass of forty-year old scotch, and he would, hopefully get a good night's sleep that night.