Under Valdez’s leadership, the Demons had quickly risen to become one of the most feared gangs, taking territory from other gangs, swallowing smaller gangs and taking over their enterprises: drugs, prostitutes, trafficking and anything else they had. It was join with them or die. They didn’t give much quarter. Valdez kept his chapters in line by sending his trusted lieutenants when he deemed it necessary. They had no compunction about putting a bullet in the head of any president of a chapter that wasn’t in compliance with Valdez’s dictates. He was ruthless with the members of his organization, yet just as generous with his favors.
The warehouse was anything but a legitimate business, and Taviano could see that Iker had his own side operation separate from his local president, Tonio Valdez, Benito’s brother. He must have been really upset when Tonio had been appointed the president in Los Angeles and had taken over his position.
Armando Lupez hadn’t come to Los Angeles on vacation. Benito Valdez must have sent him there to bring Iker into line. That told Taviano a couple of things immediately. Iker had an ego, and he didn’t like either of the Valdez brothers telling him what to do, especially Benito when he was in New York. Armando wouldn’t have come alone. He would have one or two others with him as well. But why had he been slumming at a concert, then?
Jorge was most likely one of Iker’s men. He’d run straight back to the warehouse. That meant somewhere among the men with Iker, there were a couple, at least, from New York. They would be the ones with the real authority, although Iker wouldn’t necessarily hold to that.
Iker was a thug, and prior to Tonio Valdez taking over, Iker had run his chapter that way. There was no finesse at all. He most likely had men still very loyal to him. Benito might be into raping women and doing whatever he wanted as far as showing he was all powerful to his men, but he kept his shit tight when it came to his business. Iker wanted the neighborhood and the local cops to fear him. The warehouse was a place of obvious torture. The tools were there. There were bloodstains on the concrete floor. Meat hooks hung from the ceiling. This was a deliberate show to any who might oppose Iker and his men. It was a legitimate cop’s dream. There had to be enough evidence to convict Iker and his men of any number of crimes.
Clariss was seated in a leather chair off to one side of the room, very close to what appeared to be an office. She was hunched into herself, knees drawn up, her hair over her face and her hands covering her chin and mouth as if trying to keep from making any noise. She wasn’t tied up, and he couldn’t see any blood on her. She didn’t look as if she had been sexually assaulted, although it was coming. Armando had most likely made it very clear that she was needed to get Nicoletta back, and whoever he’d left behind with Iker was most likely the one threatening her. That didn’t mean they hadn’t knocked her around to intimidate her. Men like Iker and Armando believed women were nothing and that they had every right to do whatever they wanted to them.
This situation was a potential powder keg. Iker paced back and forth, swearing under his breath. Every now and then he glared at a man in a red shirt who stood off to the side, just to the right of Clariss. The man leaned against the wall, looking casual, but he was anything but. Taviano could see he was armed to the teeth, and his hand was never far from his gun. Taviano was certain the man in the red shirt was from New York. Iker was far from happy that he was there.
“Just relax, Iker,” another man said. “I think it might be a good idea to call in your president, Tonio. Let him know what’s going on here. You’re the VP, and I get that you can handle this, but Armando’s dead and things have gone sideways.”
Iker spun around and glared. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do, Santiago,” he snapped. “You, Armando and Carlos come in from New York and try to tell me how to run my town. Tonio was the one to play the big man and send Armando to the concert. He got him killed, not me. It’s bullshit for you to come here thinking any of you know LA better than I do. You don’t know the first thing about what goes on here. And now some little bitch has Valdez hot, and we all have to jump because he needs to scratch an itch, that’s just bullshit, too.”