Page 14 of The Lost Guardian

The second man was taller and thinner, his eyes darting around the room. He was younger, with the beginnings of a patchy beard and shaggy hair shoved behind each ear. As he paced around the room, he shoved the sleeves of his shirt up, giving Santiago a peek of the same glyph on his forearm—was that a feathered crown?

“Where is the key?” Mustache asked him.

Santiago didn’t answer. He barely heard the question. All he could see was the actual gun pointed at his face. His mouth felt like sandpaper.

“The key, Señor Rios,” the man repeated.

The carne asada gurgled angrily in Santiago’s stomach.

The younger man crossed the room, getting so close to him that all Santiago could see was pockmarked skin and yellow teeth.

“He asked you a question, asshole!” the man barked, the scent of stale tobacco heightening Santiago’s nausea.

“Apurate!” He punched Santiago squarely in the gut.

He doubled over in pain and fell into a heap on the floor. His insides cramped as if he was going to vomit, but all that came out of his mouth was a glob of drool that puddled on the floor. Santiago spat, wrapped his arm around his middle, and sucked in a wheezing gasp of air.

“That’s enough, Mario!” the man with the gun snapped in Spanish. “Get him up.”

“Sorry.” Mario did as he was told, dragging Santiago to his feet.

“Apologies for my partner,” Mustache said. “He is more…excitable than I am.”

Santiago swayed on his feet, still trying to catch his breath. The fact that Mario wasn’t the one with a gun to his face was a small comfort.

“Now, let us make this easy for ourselves, yes? Just give us the key.”

“The key?” Santiago repeated, his voice hoarse. The room spun around him and his head felt foggy. Was he going to pass out?

“The key!” Mario repeated the request, only louder. “We know Manco sent it to you. Where is it?”

The mention of his grandfather’s name was like a knife to the chest. Santiago’s head snapped up, and his surroundings rushed back into focus.

Abuelo Manco? he thought. Why are they talking about my abuelo?

“I don’t understand.” Santiago’s eyes prickled with tears, his grandfather’s necklace burning the skin beneath his shirt. It was all he had left of Abuelo Manco—were these men really after it? It took all his power to resist the impulse to clutch the pendant.

“Stop lying,” the man said through gritted teeth, raising the gun a fraction of an inch. “It would be very stupid of you to lie to us right now.”

“I swear, you must have the wrong person!” Santiago tried to reason with him.

“Vamos, we know that is not true, Santiago Rios, grandson of Manco Rios,” Mario said, his hand inching toward his belt. “Make this easy for yourself, all right?” His accent was not quite as pronounced as the older man, but their dialects sounded similar.

“Give us the key to Atahualpa’s tomb,” Mustache growled.

Santiago gaped at the man, his hands trembling against his will.

“Very well,” the man responded, then motioned to Mario with his gun. “Tie him up, and we’ll search the place ourselves.” His eyes narrowed at Santiago. “You better hope we find it.”

An ugly, menacing grin crossed over the younger man’s face as he stepped toward Santiago. Some sense of self-preservation chose that moment to ignite within him. Santiago backed quickly away from his assailant.

Unfortunately, this caused him to trip over the small leather footstool in his living room, and he began falling backward. He grabbed the man in front of him, crashing them both onto the ground. Something landed on Santiago’s already bruised gut, and that, along with the ripe scent of cigarette smoke and body odor had him gagging again.

“Oh, for God’s sake—” the gunman began but was interrupted by the thunderous crash of the front door being kicked open.

A blur of black dashed into the apartment, kicking the gun out of Mustache’s hands and sending it skittering across the floor. A well-aimed punch to the sternum had the surprised man stumbling backward with the wind knocked out of him.

“Leo!” Mario called out to his doubled-over comrade. This moment of distraction allowed the black blur to kick Mario off Santiago, who took a shuddering inhale. That was when he saw the mysterious stranger clearly.