David drove alone to the deserted dock on the edge of Miami. The night was dark and quiet. Only the sound of water hitting the wooden posts broke the silence. He parked the car far from the lights and walked toward the end of the dock. Scott was already there, sitting on an old crate, smoking a cigarette. He looked tired and nervous.
David stopped a few feet away. “You wanted to talk. I am here.”
Scott flicked the cigarette into the water. He stood up slowly. “I know you do not trust me. But I need to tell you something important.”
David waited. He kept his hands loose at his sides.
Scott rubbed his face. “Vargas is my father. I found out a few days ago. Some men grabbed me and said they would kill me. Then another group attacked them and saved my life. They told me the truth. My mothe
