Chapter Nine
Manolo Garza was drunk. The funeral in Guadalajara had been a gloomy affair to say the least, but that was to be expected. The reception afterward offered a crying wife and kids who did not know the real man, who was off to places like Casa De Campo on the side. Though Manolo knew these secrets now, it was better to keep them within.
Knowing what a scoundrel De La Torre had been was not the only reason Manolo had drank so much. It was his own fear that had been evoked inside.
What if Gaditano was destined by fate to be his assassin?
He did not hate the bulls as a whole, nor even the one that killed De La Torre. It was just Gaditano he loathed.
Kicking off his shoes, he clumsily removed his jacket and tie, then flopped across the hotel bed, while Lucinda looked on.
“That
