santiago-cavazos
𝕰𝖑 𝕯𝖎𝖆𝖇𝖑𝖔
Los Lobos - Los Angeles, CA
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“Change of plans…we use the girl to get to him.”
The heavily tattooed woman sitting in the passenger seat was rambling on, smacking her gum loudly while she spoke. “Anyways, like I was sayin’, I told that bitch Tito that if he didn’t stop fuckin’ around on me, I was gonna bust a cap in his ass,” Carmen explained, leaning back into the seat, her head propped up on the arm she had resting on the door.
There was a tick in Santiago’s jaw as he glanced over at the woman. “Loyalty is everything,” said Santiago, looking away shortly after so he could text his wife back.
Parked down the street from Locke Studios, the pair were biding their time until the shop closed for the day.
“So you’re gonna be my new boss, huh? What should I call you? Patron, jefe, boss?” asked Carmen, smirking and eyeing Santiago, giving him a wink.
“Carmen, you’re not in yet and if you don’t do your fucking job, your chances of getting in drop to zero,” he warned, clenching his jaw.
The woman raised her hands in surrender, shaking her head as she turned her attention back to the shop. “Aight, patron. I was just sayin’. It’s kinda hard to pay attention to what I’m supposed to be doin’ when I got your fine ass sittin’ right next to me. Ya feel me?” Carmen explained with a shrug.
The movement was so quick, Carmen had no chance to defend herself. Santiago’s hand wrapped around the woman’s thick, black hair, yanking her back hard. He leaned in as she struggled to remove his hands from her hair.
“The only reason why you’re here is because Deucalion felt like you deserved a chance to prove yourself. One more fucking word out of your mouth that isn’t about what you’re here for and it’s the end of the line for you,” Santiago warned. “DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND?!”
The hold on her was so tight, she was unable to nod though she tried.
“Yes, I fucking understand,” spat the woman in anger, knowing she had been disarmed before entering the vehicle. There was nothing she could do except submit.
Santiago released her, massaging his knuckles while his jaw remained clenched. Carmen didn’t look at him nor did she attempt to fix her hair. All she did was stare out the window.
An hour later, she snapped her gum loudly and turned to face Santiago. “She’s alone. The last person just left,” she stated, folding her arms across her chest.
Santiago pulled the keys out of the ignition, opening the door and sliding the handgun into the waistband of his pants. “Stay here,” he warned her, slamming the vehicle’s door shut.
He had been patient, watching her for weeks. Tonight was it. The night he would threaten the blonde owner of Locke Studios.
Walking down the sidewalk towards Locke Studios, he watched as the blonde emerged to lock up for the night. However, she wasn’t alone. Stepping out after her and onto the sidewalk was a heavily tattooed man. His pulled the shop door behind him before standing behind the blonde, his hand placed on her lower back. Fuck.
Santiago retreated immediately, slipping back into the vehicle before he was noticed by the couple. Had Carmen set him up? Did she make a mistake or did she know someone was in there with his target? Either way, the mistake could have cost him everything.
Just as Santiago was about to start yelling at Carmen, she held her hands up. “Patron! That guy…I’ve seen him. He’s the fucking bastard who fucked me over. He’s in West Side Crew and he’s important, I just know it. He told their gang leader what to do. What kind of member has that much power over the leader?”
His eyes snapped up to look towards the barbershop. Committing every detail to memory, he watched as the pair made their way towards her car. It was obvious, even from afar that they were a romantic pair. A smirk spread across his lips, watching until the car disappeared from view.
“You sure?” Santiago asked.
Carmen nodded. “Without a doubt.”
That night, Santiago arrived home late. Even with the information Carmen had given him, she was a liability to Los Lobos. She had endangered his life and with her unpredictable nature, she could not be trusted. After reporting back to Deucalion, the message was clear. Take her out.
The task was carried out but it caused him to return home late.
Sighing heavily, he pushed open the door to his home. He frowned when he found every light turned off. “Amor,” he called out in the darkness, flicking on the light and closing the door behind him. There was no smell of dinner though his stomach ached. The dining room and kitchen were both empty, no food in sight.
He knew his wife was home but there was no answer. Kicking off his shoes and taking the steps two at a time, he made his way towards their bedroom where a soft glow of light could be seen beneath the doorframe.
Opening the door, he found his wife sitting in bed, scrolling through her phone.
“You’re late,” Leala stated, her tone chipped and cold. She didn’t look up from her phone. “You didn’t bother answering my texts. You didn’t even tell me you’d be late.”
“Mami, I can explain…” Santiago started as he closed the distance between them, sitting on the edge of the bed on her side. He reached for her when she placed her phone down.
Santiago was about to explain what had happened when a hard slap met the side of his face. “God damnit! What the fuck?!” he yelled, grabbing her wrist before she could hit him again.
Leala screamed, trying to slip her hand out of his grasp. “Why the hell do you smell like you were around some fucking bitch?!” she cried out.
Santiago’s cheek burned from the slap she had given him and it took all he had not to lose complete control. Climbing onto the bed to pin her down was the only way he knew she couldn’t get away from him.
And so, he explained everything that had happened. He would never keep anything from her. It took time for her to calm down and after a hot shower together, he’d take her to bed to make her forget that their argument had ever happened.
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“Cat and mouse…it’s my favorite game to play. Especially since I’m always the cat.”
Thursday, February 15, 2024
“Do you think she’s caught on that you’ve been watching her, jefe?” asked Antonio Zapata, leaning back into his seat and glancing over at his lieutenant.
Santiago sneered, meeting Tony’s gaze lazily. “No, but she will tonight,” he explained, turning his attention back to the barbershop across the street.
For months, Santiago had been watching the blonde woman only days following the accidental death of her brother and she was none the wiser. Her schedule was committed to memory. He knew where she lived, where she worked, where her nephew went to daycare, the usual stores she shopped in, the restaurants she ordered from, and the people she spent the most time with.
Yes, Santiago knew practically everything about Beverly Williams.
“You think she has the money?” Tony asked.
Santiago waved a finger lazily at the building. “That’s hers,” he stated. “She can pay.”
Hours later, Santiago took a moment to text his wife.
I love you, ---.
Tony’s hand grabbed onto Santiago’s jacket, shaking him a bit. “Jefe, that’s all of them. Everyone left the shop. She’s alone,” Tony said, his eyes on the barbershop and not looking at his lieutenant that he just angered.
“You fuck,” Santiago said, swearing as the angry texts from his wife started pouring in.
Tony’s hit had made Santiago misspell baby, autocorrecting it to Abby.
I love you, Abby, the text read.
The phone continued to vibrate as her texts poured in though Santiago had no time to remedy the solution.
Sidestepping his anger, he stepped out of the vehicle and slid his handgun into the waistband of his jeans. “Don’t fucking leave the car,” he said, pointing a finger at Tony. He closed the driver’s side door and crossed the empty street.
Santiago stood in front of Locke Studios, hands in the pockets of his jacket. Watching her through the window, the blonde woman busied herself with shutting everything down alone. He didn’t say a word nor did he move, at least, not until she turned around to see him.
Ten seconds, she held his gaze. She didn’t move nor did he see the rise in her chest. She was holding her breath and he knew he had succeeded. The broom she had been holding in her hands clattered to the floor. Santiago gave her a nod, took a step back, then gave her a wink before heading back across the street.Â
Santiago climbed into the driver’s side and closed the door, pulling the handgun out of his waistband.
“What was that about?” asked Tony. “She saw you! You didn’t even get the money!”
In a split second, Santiago had the firearm pressed against the side of Tony’s temple. “Question me again. Go ahead,” he warned.
He allowed thirty seconds of silence to pass between them before he lowered the weapon and stowed it in the driver’s door.
“Today was just a scare. You know I like playing with my food before I kill it,” said Santiago, eyeing the shop as Beverly emerged.
“You’re going to kill her even if she gives you the money?” asked Tony.
Santiago’s jaw ticked. “You really are a dumb fuck, aren’t you? You don’t allow anyone to live. Ever. That’s you get fucking caught,” he warned. “Don’t fucking talk the rest of the way or I’ll put a bullet in your head too.”
Tony did as he was told, remaining silent and sinking into his seat like a scolded child as they drove away.
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“There’s no place to hide once the devil gets ahold of you.”
Friday, November 3, 2023
The jaw of Santiago Cavazos ticked, lifting his leg slightly to examine the blood splatter that dirtied his shoe. “Clean it,” the man said, placing his heel against the ground and narrowing his cold eyes at the crumbled heap at his feet.
The heap moved but barely. A painful moan escaped it as the mass took shape, moving its damaged limbs around to push itself onto its knees. It was a man. Battered and bruised with his face swelling quickly from the blows it had taken, he did not dare to look up at the face that belonged to the man he knew as El Diablo.
Santiago wiped the blood from the brass knuckles that spanned across his hand, watching as Matthew Williams crawled to him, tearing a piece of his shirt to wipe his own blood from the shoes Santiago wore.
The move was jarring. Santiago’s foot came up, making contact with the underside of Matthew’s jaw. It splayed sideways, knowing well that the jaw had been dislocated from the kick.
More blood sprayed across the blacktop.
Squatting down, Santiago grabbed a hold of Matthew’s chin and forced him to meet his gaze. His large hand clamped on the dislocated jaw, his cold eyes meeting Matt’s. “Your girl owes me money. A lot of it,” started Santiago, his dark brown eyes meeting the blue eyes that were filled with pain and fear. Santiago smiled though it was not to bring Matt comfort, it was used to mock him. “But you know, I’m feeling generous. I’ll give you a week. Consider yourself lucky.”
Matthew tried to speak but blood had filled his mouth and with his jaw dislocated, it was an impossible feat.
“What was that?” Santiago asked, faking his concern. “Oh, you can’t pay? Is that it? Well, if you don’t have my money by then…what should we do? Mm, I know. Vanessa will pay with her life. I’ll take yours for good measure and wait…doesn’t that leave your son without parents? You wouldn’t want to do that to him, would you? Then let’s get my money. One week,” he stated coldly, letting go and giving Matt’s cheek a few gentle pats.
Santiago stood, taking a handkerchief, and wiping the blood from his hands and fingers. “The pain isn’t going to end there. No, it just begins. Someone will owe your debt and one day, we’ll come to collect. If they don’t pay, around and around we’ll go until it is,” he stated, pocketing the soiled square of fabric.
He took a step back, leaving Matt wheezing to catch his breath. “One week,” was the last thing he said before stepping into the black Cadillac that pulled up into the alley way, leaving Matt broken and alone.
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“Kill or be killed. There is no other option.”
Santiago Cavazos stood silent, a handgun with an extended mag tucked into the waistband of his pants. Their gang’s leader, a man who went by the alias Deucalion, sat in an overstuffed chair, overlooking the empty warehouse. The entire room was so quiet, a pin would be heard if it were dropped.
All five lieutenants for Los Lobos stood, separated on either side of their leader while they waited. Minutes later, the reason for this meeting came walking in.
Santiago’s hands remained clasped in front of him, staring ahead at the three men who approached the center of the group. All three men were a part of the Sur 13 gang but only one was a lieutenant.
Deucalion sat up in his chair, a brow raised in their direction. He nodded to Santiago who stepped forward, walking to the three members. Each movement, each step was perfectly calculated.
“Any problems with the shipment?” asked Santiago as he approached.
Diego, third lieutenant for Sur 13, shook his head. “Nah, everything was straight,” he replied.
Santiago nodded, about to open his mouth to speak the sound of footsteps echoed throughout the room. Deucalion’s head snapped over to the source. He didn’t have time to call out instructions.
At the opening of the room, stood members of the West Side Crew. Fuck.
By the expressions on their faces, they were just as surprised as they were. Santiago reacted quickly, pulling the handgun out of his waistband, extending his arm to push the Sur 13 members out of the line of fire.
Aim, fire. His first shot hit home, landing between the eyes of the first West Side crew member. He went down instantly, the others scrambling to get out of the way. The sound of gunshots echoed deafeningly, blasts of light illuminating the room while the smoke filled it. Empty cartridges littered the floor, hot metal clanging off the concrete floor.
A Lobo member collapsed behind Santiago, but he pressed forward.
Holding a closed fist up to cease fire. It didn’t take long for the gunshots to stop, the smoke beginning to clear out of the open window.
No one moved except for Santiago. Two bodies lay bloodied and almost unrecognizable from the amount of damage they took from all the shots fired at them. Using his boot to move their limbs, he noticed the ink on their arms.
He had been right. They were from the West Side Crew. How did they find this place?
Stowing his handgun away, he snapped his fingers and motioned forward for the lower ranked members to pick up the bodies. “Dispose of them,” he ordered, his tone cold.
Glancing back, he caught the eye of his leader, giving him a curt nod before taking several members with him. There was now a new mission at hand.
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