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He went upstairs. Sergio remained by the front door, and I made my way into the kitchen with the duffel bag. It didn’t take long for the soft moans of two people fucking to echo from the second level.
Given the fact that the woman didn’t scream, I surmised Elias had done this before.
I put on a pot of coffee before unzipping the bag and pulling out what I needed, briefly pausing when a muffled yelp came from the upper level.
Approximately twenty minutes later, the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs alerted me to Elias’ approach.
I shook my head, taking in the blood sprayed across the front of his shirt.
"Enjoy yourself?” I asked, quirking a brow.
"I’ve had better, but one last hurrah was still worth it before the stupid cadela meets the Holy Ghost. Do you want me to bring her down?" Using a damp paper towel, he wiped some of the blood away from his face.
"Not yet. Where is she?"
"In the bathtub." His eyes flashed to mine, a smirk on his face.
"Good. Pour this on her, and come down in ten."
He caught the lighter fluid and gave me an army salute before walking back out of the kitchen. A light tap from the living room came from Sergio, letting me know the man of the hour had arrived.
The key turning in the front door sent a jolt of excited anticipation coursing through my veins. I listened closely, tracking his movements. His heavy boots thudded across the dull hardwood floor; a tired sigh left his mouth.
I saw him before he saw me. The man looked like shit. He'd gained a considerable amount of weight, his face looked like it hadn't been shaved since the Jurassic era, and he had a distinct musty aroma.
I cleared my throat to get his attention when he still hadn’t spotted me. Most people would be aware there was an unwelcome guest lurking in their kitchen.
“Patrón.” He looked directly at me, brown eyes widening.
"Alex. It's been a while.” Keeping my posture relaxed, I leaned against his pinewood countertop and intertwined my leather-gloved hands together.
"Is Abby home?" he nervously asked.
Biting back a smile, ignoring his question, I gestured to a chair, indicating he should sit.
What he really wanted to know was if I’d fucked his girlfriend.
"Abby isn't exactly my type. Plus, I’ve heard from a few of my men that she gives shitty blow-jobs. I don't know how you've put up with that for so long. Well, then again, I’m sure you don’t mind the taste of cock."
His fists clenched beneath the table but he forced out a laugh to save face. This man was a pitiful pussy.
"I thought it was time we had a little chat. I'd have come by sooner, but as you know, I’m a very busy man. This won’t take long.”
Reaching into my back pocket, I removed the photograph of Elena and held it up for him to see. He squinted. A second later, his adam’s apple bobbed.
“I, uh, I—”
“I take it you remember her?”
His wild eyes found all the supplies I’d placed on the opposite countertop. From the look on his face, he finally realized I wasn’t standing in his kitchen so we could catch up on old times.
The fear radiating off him was almost a physical entity. He knew I knew that he was there that night.
"They made me do it,” he rushed out, already shaking.
"Calm down, Alex. There’s no reason to be afraid. Let me pour you some coffee." He let out a soft sigh of relief when I turned my back.
Grabbing the old style glass pitcher, I turned back around and flipped the lid up.
