Page 10 of No Darker Temptation

JUST US THREE

Alejandro

“I’ve never seen you so eager to gut someone before.”

“Not eager.” I hold up a finger. “Efficient.”

Oscar and Beni exchange a look. After this morning’s meeting with Abuelo where I received the standard “do you want me to send you to therapy?” speech followed by a “is this about the girl?” twist, I decided that I needed to keep my mind busy. Since the Balkans started moving into the eastern end of the city, it’s been disrupting Don Rubin’s business. Usually, I stay out of things with the Balkans, in particular the Albanians. There’s value in minding one’s own business and since they respect my boundaries, I respect theirs. However, I owe Don Rubin a favor after I broke his son’s nose so I’ve volunteered to conduct the interrogation of Alban Marki.

Oscar says, “Maybe we should take a walk.”

“Go take a walk then.” I slide on a pair of brass knuckles. “Open the door.”

Beni tsks as he shakes his head. “Como quieras, patrón.”

Don Rubin leans against the wall, cigar hanging from his bottom lip as a cloud of smoke engulfs him. Seated in a metal chair bolted to the ground is a dark-haired and olive-skinned Alban Marki with a busted lip but otherwise unharmed. A single light hanging above him illuminates the entire room. Granted, this corner of the warehouse was chosen for its privacy but Don Rubin could’ve put a second light or something. I can hardly see what I’m doing.

“Don Alejandro,” he says.

I stand across from him, hands folded in front of me. “Good. You know who I am.”

In heavily accented English, he replies, “I wasn’t aware our two families were in disagreement with each other.”

“We aren’t. However, Don Rubin is a good friend of mine. And when a friend of mine is in trouble, I come to their aid.” I lower myself to a kneeling position in front of him. Drops of sweat roll down the sides of his face, making his wavy hair cling to his skin. “Let’s make this simple. That warehouse you and your friends cleaned out down by the docks had five hundred kilos of cocaine. Now if you tell me where the merchandise is, I’ll help you get out of here alive.”

“How generous of you.”

“I’m a reasonable man.”

“I’ve heard the opposite. You’re prone to losing your temper, just like your father. Especially as of late.” He tilts his head at me. “Is it true you mounted a man’s head on a spike outside the church his elderly mother goes to?”

“I was a little reckless in my youth.”

“This happened last week.”

I grind my teeth hard enough to hear a crack. “He pissed me off. And you don’t want to piss me off, Marki, I just so happen to like you.”

“I also heard you castrated a man. And what about the guy you threw into a den of vipers? Or the one you fed to a lion⁠—?”

“Exaggerated and falsified accounts of real events. Do you have a point?”

He studies me for longer than I’m comfortable with before shrugging. “I merely find it interesting. A violent streak like that.” His eyes flicker to my hands then back up again. “Plan on beating the truth out of me with a pair of shitty brass knuckles?”

With a single swipe of the hand, I remove the brass knuckles and land a right hook across his face that makes the screws keeping his chair bolted to the ground vibrate.

“Where’d they put the merchandise, Marki?”

He spits a mouthful of blood at my feet. “It’s nothing personal. But go fuck yourself, Narvaez.”

“Don Alejandro.”

I turn around and Don Rubin removes his cigar. He switches to Spanish so Marki can’t understand. “No puedes matarlo.”

“¿Y por qué no?”

His gaze hardens. “No.” is the only response he gives me.

My jaw clenches and I return my attention to the man in the metal chair. “Easy way or the hard way?”