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“Answer when spoken to,” Israel spits out, placing the muzzle of his gun against Henry’s temple, and pulling the trigger. It’s empty, just a click, but my guest understands the rules. He also pisses himself. Nasty. “Next one won’t be empty, Davila. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Good boy.” I struck a nerve with that remark. His right hand clenches. “Something you want to say?”
“No.”
“Then lose the pinched face and start talking.” Israel hands me a folded metal chair and I take it, open it, and sit across from him. There’s a plastic table between us. “I’m waiting.”
“My stepsister is in love with Dalian. Karen can see no wrong in him.” I’m surprised; this is something I didn’t know. Can come in handy in the near future. “The Uriel brothers use her. I know they do, and I was dragged in as a favor to her. To win his favor.”
“Dalian or Jaime?”
“Dalian, but I have my suspicions she’s slept with both.”
“And you?”
“Guilty.” Henry snorts, the sound is a bit sarcastic. “Not that she’d care if I die. We’re not close. She was brought up spoiled, self-centered, and never wanting a sibling. As you can see, we also don’t share last names and in her eyes, that makes me beneath her.”
“Then why get involved?”
“Because Karen met them through me. I’m responsible for our downfall.”
“You’re right about that. You decided to help them, to put Amberlyn Ibarra in danger, and then you ran from me. All that was on you.” Israel pulls out a manila folder from inside his suit jacket and places it atop the table; I open it. My eyes skim through the papers and I find names, addresses, and bank accounts with an accumulated wealth of well over five million dollars. “Why, Henry? Explain to me how going against me and mine was a good idea?”
“Honest answer?”
I wave a hand for him to continue. “Please.”
“Greed. The offer was too good to pass up, especially with the guarantees they presented.”
“Nothing in life is ever a sure thing, Davila. Not a fucking thing. “The blood on his lip has crusted a bit, and I also notice he’s swallowing hard, thirsty, and I look at my guard. “Get him some water.”
“Of course, boss.” Israel exits the container while I sit back. One of the papers has my attention and I read through it. This one has information on safe houses here and in Cuba, and the backup plan to grab her grandparents there. Not going to happen.
“Keep going.” Tone terse, it comes out harsher than I intend and Henry flinches back. “Relax. Right now we’re just going to talk.”
“Okay.” His hands try to stretch, but the tight rope prevents that. Reaching into my back pocket, I grab my matte-black balisong knife and with a quick flick of the wrist, tear through the bindings. At the movement, he jumps and falls back, slamming his head against the hard metal. “Fuck. That hurt.”
“I’m sure it did. Now sit.” Another twist of my hand and it closes; I place it to my right. Henry scrambles up, nearly tumbling again before managing to right himself. “There are two names on this list I do not know. Who are they?”
“Cuban military smuggled in to protect the brothers.” Angry rope marks surround each wrist and he rubs them, occasionally stretching out a hand. “They’re from an alliance exchange; they were trained in an eastern European country to specifically work as protection to the president. However, Jaime bragged they’d be coming here, instead. And they did, on the day of your brother’s wedding.”
They’re desperate. Don’t know how to control me. Which can be a dangerous thing. Nervous—afraid—people make mistakes. Some are more costly than others.
“Why that day?”
“Jaime claimed the De Leons would be preoccupied. That’s what Dalian wanted to celebrate—to them, their time had come.”
“Yet, I had eyes on you and him. Could’ve killed you both that night.”
“They don’t know how close you are.”
And that’s because I never gave him the chance to so much as send them a text. I gave him forty-eight hours, but my men were always near. In plain sight of him, and he saw them at every turn.
“Correction—how close you’re about to get me.” Sitting back, I cross my arms over my chest just as Israel walks in. He hands Henry the water, who takes it and then sips, before retaking his place a few steps from the nervous man. I smirk at that. “How much value do you put on your life, Davila?”
“Not much at the moment. I’m a dead man.”
