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“Do you know what Ezekiel is really good at?” I whispered as I leaned down to Rocco’s face. That got those beady little eyes to flick to me, wide as ever, and I couldn’t help but grin down at him. “He can take people apart, piece by piece, until they’re nothing but stumps. He knows how to keep you alive and awake during most of it, too. So, Rocco, what do you think? Should we start with your hand, or should we go a little bigger and cut off everything from the elbow-down?”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Stop! I’ll fucking tell you what you want, okay? Just… fucking stop.” The words came out of Rocco in a hurry, the man stumbling over his words like never before. That’s what happened when a man unaccustomed to facing consequences was forced to look the devil in the eyes.
Ezekiel dutifully ignored him, hovering the knife over his wrist and then moving it to his elbow. “Hmm. I’m not picky either way. Maybe we should jump right into it and take it all off from the elbow joint—” He brought the knife down to Rocco’s inner elbow, and the steel only just touched the skin before the man broke completely.
“It’s the Cobra!” His darker skin was pale and sweat lined his brow. “It’s the Cobra, okay?”
That got Ezekiel to hesitate and glance at me, but I was too busy staring at Rocco in disbelief. “What’s the Cobra?” I asked.
“The next part of the plan,” Rocco hurried to say, “is the Cobra.”
“The Cobra is dead,” Ezekiel spoke with conviction—and I took that to mean he viewed it as a fact. He viewed it as a fact because, well, after the Cobra went crazy and maimed Slade, killed Piper’s family, and attempted to kill Nixon, he had to be dead.
The Black Hand would never let someone go free after causing that much death and destruction among their ranks. The first rule of being on the Black Hand was to never harm another member, and the Cobra went against all of it, multiple times.
Rocco managed a smile, though a weak one at that. “That’s what Atticus wants everyone to think. The Cobra ain’t dead. Miguel got intel from an inside source—one of the men who guards him.”
Ezekiel didn’t move, but his voice came out deadly, “You’re lying.”
“I’m not. Atticus kept it under wraps. Piper and the Palmers, they don’t know. Atticus knew the Black Hand would implode if he let it get out that the Cobra’s still alive.”
“It doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t Atticus kill him?” Ezekiel questioned. Rocco didn’t answer right away, which he didn’t like, and he showed his appreciation for Rocco’s silence by lowering the knife to his elbow once again, hard enough to break the top layer of skin.
Rocco shouted his answer, “Because the Cobra is actually Tristan Arrowwood!”
Ezekiel had to take a step back, and he dropped the knife onto the cart, his eyes wide as he looked at me. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him so shocked, stupefied, and speechless before. I doubted it happened often. “Upstairs.” He said not a single word more as he turned around and left the room.
The revelation was still bouncing around in my head, so I didn’t follow him right away. Once I started to, Rocco called out, “Wait. My arm. It’s numb. I’ll tell you and that fucking priest whatever you want. Just… can you undo it?”
He had balls to ask me to relieve his pain. Balls and a whole lot of stupidity.
Needless to say, I didn’t untie that rubber around his arm. I left him alone, ignored how he called out to me, and hurried after Ezekiel—the latter of which must’ve rushed up the stairs, because once I made it to the hall, he was out of sight.
I found him standing in front of the altar upstairs, a conflicted look on his handsome face. He stared at the statue of Jesus on the cross, his jaw tight. “Do you believe him? A man who knows death is knocking is a man who would say anything to get death to leave and save him for another day.”
“But what reason does he have to lie? He could’ve said anything to save his own ass,” I replied. “But he went straight for the Cobra. When I met with Shay, I warned her that Miguel was looking for any secrets they were hiding. She immediately flipped a switch, started acting weird. She raced out of the house after that. I thought it was a little odd at the time, but…”
“But it would fit with what Rocco just told us,” Ezekiel whispered.
“It would.” I folded my arms across my chest, the weight of what we’d just learned hitting me right then. “Shit. The Cobra’s not only alive, but Atticus has been keeping it a secret with Shay this whole time? And he’s Shay’s brother? How’s that possible? I thought her whole family was murdered years ago.”
Ezekiel sighed, and he finally tore his gaze away from the statue of Jesus so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. “Apparently, that was not the whole story. Maybe Tristan planned it out. Maybe what happened to the Arrowwoods was Tristan’s attempted coup—like what Miguel is working on right now.”
“I need to speak with Shay. She needs to know Miguel knows all about the Cobra and who he is—and if he knows where he’s being held, it’s only a matter of time before he tries to break him out and get him on his side… and I don’t know, after being locked up, that Tristan would ever side with his sister.”
“He killed many people, cut out Slade’s tongue and nearly killed Nix. He is the definition of a psychopath. Someone like him can never be reasoned with. If Miguel believes he’ll be able to control him, he’s a fool.”
I nodded once. “I think Miguel knows that, and he knows the only thing that’ll stop the Cobra from killing him once he’s free is to offer up the rest of the Black Hand on a platter. Miguel could lead the Cobra into another murdering spree, wait until he’s finished, and then kill him—and then he’d be the only one left. He could take all the power he wants once everyone else is out of the picture.”
God. This really took a turn, didn’t it? Here I thought I’d do a little torturing, make Rocco regret every decision he’d made in his life, and then kill him after finding out what he knew about Miguel’s plans. The last thing I expected was for this bomb to drop.
We didn’t have any time to waste. We needed to find out exactly what all Rocco knew, how much had been planned, and then…
Then I needed to contact Shay.
Ezekiel and I returned to the basement, and when we walked inside the room where Rocco waited for us, we saw him trying in vain to reach the cart Ezekiel had left near him. Trying to grab the knife he’d cut his elbow with, but it was still too far away. The moment we appeared, he relaxed his hand—which had turned a weird, purplish, bluish color from the lack of blood flow.
“What else do you know, Rocco?” I demanded.
