"Okay... Yes, wait for the stocks to get on board first... Cross-check each and every one of them," Miguel ordered.
His voice carried that chill-worthy tone that exuded an abundant calm, heavily laced with arrogance, authority, and absolute control.
It was a sickening aura, one that mingled with the outrageous scent of expensive cologne that enveloped the entire interior of the Escalade.
He retired back into the soft, dark leather of the seat, appearing far too relaxed for a man about to rain chaos and doom on a fellow human.
With his phone held slightly away from his ear, his jaw rock-hard, his eyes dead and dry of any discernible emotion.
The faint, tinny voice seeping through the phone speakers gave him the necessary feedback, but Miguel barely seemed to listen; he was already three steps ahead.
The way he measured his words before he spoke, the way he carried his frame, it all screamed an exceptional, chaotically organized masculinity.
"Yes... Get those Spanish goats to sign before they leave," he ordered again. He paused for a microsecond, his jaw ticking with a rhythmic tension that surely had to hurt.
"I don't care about that! If they don't sign it, cut off their damn fingers."He sneered the words.
Even though he was boiling inside, possessed by a hunger to spill blood, his voice couldn't risk slipping its leash of composure.
On the other end of the line, the person knew better than to press further. Before they could even stammer another syllable, a sharp beep signaled the end of the call.
Miguel gently lowered his hand, as he stretched his fingers out over his thighs, then folded them into fists so tight his knuckles reddened into white-peaked mountains.
He needed to do this. He reminded himself that if he let this incident with Storm slide, then everyone would think it was okay to target Miguel's life whenever they felt bored.
He wanted to hear the man's reason, but either way, someone was going six feet under.
"And what the fuck are you two looking at, huh? Focus on the road and those fucking holes!" he snapped at the two guards in the front seats.
They had been stealing sneaky glances at him through the rearview mirror, foolishly thinking he wouldn't notice.
Even when his mind was miles away, Miguel was not the type to lose focus of his immediate surroundings.
"Man, chill!" Navarro, sitting beside him, finally spoke. Which earned him a shot of swift, dangerous glance from Miguel.
Navarro had been studying him since they left the island since morning. He wasn't a mere guard; he had grown up with Miguel, and he could feel the heat radiating off the man like major UV rays.
Navarro knew for sure that all Miguel needed was just a slight tick, a single spark and there, he will lose control.
"When you get upset like this, you always ruin the most simple things in a very unnecessary way," Navarro began.
He let out a slight cough, adjusting his voice—usually full of taunts and teasing—into something softer and more reasonable.
"Storm is kinda very influential..." He paused, watching Miguel's jaw tighten even harder, definitely because of that statement.
Wrong choice of words.
"...You made him influential. Way too influential, man. And if we don't clean this mess professionally—" Navarro leaned away from the window, fully turning toward Miguel, addressing the rage tucked away behind that mask of nonchalance and control.
"We don't need to start bribing these loose-cannon cops after what's supposed to be an in-and-out job. You have to put your shit together. Don't go rogue, mad, and crazy! It ain't worth it."
Navarro spoke casually, showing none of the paralyzing fear that others showcased when speaking directly to Miguel.
After a silence that felt like a couple of eternities—dense, heavy, and engaged.
Miguel finally exhaled.
It was slow, almost unnoticeable, but it was a sign that Navarro's words had at least scratched the surface of his temper.
Navarro sighed with relief, leaning back toward the window as the tension in the cabin ebbed away, he was done studying and analysing Miguel's every move now that it seems that Miguel had finally chilled down 'at least for the moment'.
Miguel slouched, sinking deeper into the leather. His head lolled tiredly backward as he fixed his gaze on the car's roof.
He needed to take it slow, he told himself. He closed his eyes, deciding to take a little rest to clear the fog in his mind before they reached the location.
That was when he heard it—a loud, sharp, filtered-out yelling from somewhere outside.
Miguel didn't read any meaning into it. Probably some pedestrian having a fit.
He didn't care. He shook his head sharply, about to resume his drift into sleep.
"Sir, I think one of the cars in front splashed water on someone," one of the guards spoke. He kept his voice as calm as possible, slightly tilting his head in anticipation of Miguel's orders.
Navarro couldn't help but let a small smile tug at his lips.Miguel's brows furrowed in pure irritation.
He craned only his head up, his eyes flashing.
What was his business? If water splashed on somebody?, then it was simply an unlucky day for them today.
He wasn't about to tell them to stop so he could go apologize. Nothing would jeopardize this mission.
Delay they say is dangerous; word might have already reached Storm, and he'd be damned if that man slipped away like a roach because they wasted a second playing nice.
"Don't stop," he ordered without stress, drifting back toward his rest.
"You heard the man," Navarro added.
But when the driver showed a flicker of hesitation, a moment of misplaced concern, Miguel flared up.
"Don't make me repeat myself again. Now fucking drive—"
Before he could finish the sentence, the world inside the SUV turned into a storm of glass.
Without warning, the back window exploded. Shards of crystal shattered into the air like lethal diamonds.
Miguel, Navarro, and the guards instinctively threw their arms over their heads, shielding themselves from the sudden, violent rain of debris.
To be continued...