Juan Pedro Martinez Novels & Stories

A few visitors were scattered around, admiring the art in quiet awe. At the far end of the room stood a man in a suit, clearly waiting for him. Allen recognized him — one of the foreign partners he had been negotiating with. “Mr. Allen,” the man greeted with a polite smile. “Or should I say, Mr chairman.” Allen laughed and shook his hand firmly. “Please, I'm just a simp for the Rodriguez family. The group is just too much for me to carry.” “Yet you are the reason this company is standing,” the man laughed.

I don't think I could ever forgive myself if something were to happen to him. “We will find him, Lucas. He is our Beta and the best fighter in this pack, I know nothing would have happened to him.” Mateo said, but I shook my head. It's been a year since she left him, and he hasn't still recovered from that rejection, and I don't think he would ever completely come out of it.

Martinez didn't hold a grudge after all. Of course, Mr. Martinez didn't hold a grudge against him, he wouldn't dare. And even if he wanted to, it wouldn't benefit him, as he had realized long ago that Liam was not on the same level as him, and there was nothing he could do to him. Mr. Martinez had witnessed Liam's influence and didn't want to provoke him, not even by mistake and so it was in his best interest to let go of any hate he harbored toward him. One particular instance that made Mr. Martinez realize Liam's mighty influence was when Liam effortlessly got him out of prison in a day.

However, it upset him when others talked about Antonio as if he was no longer alive. “What? You said—" "I am aware of what I have stated. It's a response that comes to mind instantly. It's less difficult than confirming that he has passed away. She took a deep breath as the dawning of comprehension began to show in her expression. “How?” She uttered the query in a hushed tone. "He arrested a man whose name was Martini. Martini was not as heavy an operator as Pedro, but he was still a huge fish. Located in San Antonio, Texas, for the most part."

The old, grumpy bartender finally spoke up, and I found out he was missing a couple tooth. Martinez shrugged casually, before getting on a barstool. I followed suit, not really sure of what to do, other than letting me eyes wander our surrounding. "I'm not a big fan of rules." Martinez said, smiling at the bartender, who slowly shifted his gaze to me. "I know you." He smirked, and I couldn't begin to describe the instant chill I felt in that moment. "...Del Ponte's little slut." My eyes slowly zeroed in on a particular tattoo on his neck. It literally read "Big Joe", but this man was nowhere near big in size. He was probably the most scrawny person I've ever come across.

He explained everything to her. For decades, Edward's father, Mateo Madrigal, and Joaquin's father, Alejandro Jimenez, were political best friends and allies. They've been collaborating and supporting one another's campaigns. Mateo will be running against Enrique Santibanez in the upcoming election. They will both vie for the position of governor. Mateo's trust rating is low because they were related, and Enrique was known to be corrupt.

He offered. Nodding my head, I gave him a confirmation. The bartender served my glass. “My father wants to make peace,” Anthony blurted out. “Fucking bastard,” my shoulders jerked as I chuckle hard into my fist. This was the funniest joke of the century. My laughter faded into a scowl. “Why now?” “Because the game doesn't taste sweet anymore.” “Interesting. So the old man of yours wants to make peace after piercing so many bullets into me?”

“From who?” There was a pause. Then Marlo said something that made my stomach drop. “Martinez.” Ashley’s fingers tightened around the wheel. My blood turned to ice. “Who?” Fernando asked, frowning. “Javier Martinez,” Marlo said, his voice low and careful. “You’ve done business with him before. He’s expecting you to remember that.” Fernando’s eyes darkened with confusion. “I don’t. What business?” “Product movement through the El Paso corridor,” Marlo said. “You had a deal—he supplies, you distribute. You two were working on expanding into Nuevo Laredo. It was one of your most dangerous but lucrative partnerships.”

It was him. Mateo Santiago.

A being of unadulterated rage. He didn’t know what time it was when he heard a lock clicking. The door swung open, and the young cop who’d let Grace talk to him stepped in; Office Haldon was his name. “You can have your one phone call now, Mr. Martínez. Do you know who that’ll be?” Jaime stared at the man. Who could he call? His parents? The thought of their devastation on his behalf made him grimace. Grace couldn’t help him; neither could Adam. So he just shook his head.