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I don’t want to turn that green grass red, but I don’t have a choice in either.
25
EDIER
“As your lawyer,I’m advising you to burn your clothes and pick an alibi,” says Queenie, giving me the once-over as I emerge from the warehouse wiping my bloody hands on a dirty rag. “Here.” She shifts position against the parked BMW to pass me a manila folder of documents embossed with her company’s logo. “These papers need signing. They’re from that important meeting you never showed up to this morning.”
There’s no judgment in her voice. She’s far too unprincipled for that.
“This is a very personalized service,” I say, throwing the rag away. “I didn’t expect them to be hand-delivered by my two-hundred-dollar an hour employee. Will you be invoicing for gas, too?”
“Naturally… You wanted this media group fast and I pride myself on delivering excellence to my clients, at any cost.” She glances at the warehouse behind me. “I’m assuming whoever’s lying half-dead in there deserved it?” When I don’t answer, she sighs, and turns around to open her driver door. “Have you seen her again?”
“Who?”
“What have I told you about playing coy? And when the holyfuckdid you get a pet?” She scowls at Dog, who’s lying on the ground by my feet, looking up at her with baleful eyes.
I smirk when I remember Ella’s Cruella De Vil comment from the other day. “That’s not a pet, that’s an emotional support animal. I need it for all the murder I’ll be committing in the next few months. You got a pen?”
Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out a Montblanc and studies me as I sign the places where she’s marked. “I’m the legitimate face of your empire, Grayson. I don’t want or need to know what’s happening on the other side, but there’s something big going down, am I right?”
“I’m in control of this, Queenie, so no need to liquidize any of my assets just yet.” I hand the signed papers back to her before sliding the Montblanc into my back pocket. “And I’m keeping the pen. Client privileges.”
“I also had my P.I. do that digging you requested.”
I pause. “And?”
“Your father’s dead. No question. He was buried in a shallow grave in Suesca near Bogotá, not long after Santiago came blazing through the place with his Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse over a decade ago. We had the body exhumed and verified. Hurtados himself died in a notorious Colombian jail calledLa Modelowithin two weeks of starting a bullshit nine-year sentence for Tax Evasion, mainly because they couldn’t land him with anything else. Sources say it was your adoptive father who had a man on the inside that time.”
“And my brother, Nacio?”
“We’re still trying to verify him. They’re a lot of cartel bodies in unmarked graves around the place, Edier. We need more time.”
“I want confirmation that every single one of them were killed by Santiago. Send me pictures.”
She raises a cool, blonde eyebrow at this. “Most people would be mildly conflicted to know that their close relatives were murdered by the same people who adopted them, and who they’ve pledged their eternal allegiance to.”
“Most people aren’t blood related to pure fucking evil,” I clip back, turning to go. “And you should know by now that no allegiance is eternal.”
* * *
We’re getting nowhere.It’s been four hours and Carrera’s ‘gift’ is refusing to talk. There’s been no hocus pocus with the ugly bastard either, just defiant silence. His eyes are still gray and bloodshot, but the rest of him is red and dripping.
So far, his tattoo is the only interesting thing about him. It’s larger than the ones we’ve come across before, sitting dead center in the middle of the chest like a badge of honor, with what looks like a single army service stripe underneath. He’s more than a disciple. This man means something toEl Alquimista’sorganization, and we intend to find out what. Afterward, I’ll be sending Carrera a gift of equal value.
“Leave him, Sam,” I order, watching my second-in-command ram his fist into his ribcage again and get nothing but grunts in return. “We’ll let him consider his options for a couple of hours.”
It’s close to midnight and I’m craving Ella’s peace and touch, though it’s reckless of me to go anywhere near her so soon after what happened. Unfortunately, recklessness is a lot like gravity in that respect, and after building so many walls between us for so long, I can feel their foundations crumbling under the weight of it. How she feels in my arms is immeasurable. It’s the only time I can distract myself from the unavoidable collision that’s coming. I need as much of her as I can get before it all turns to shit.
I click my fingers at Gabrio who’s standing to one side, smoking a cigarette in a slow and measured way. Some men are thinkers, and he’s one of them. I need his brains as much as I need Sam’s brawn. “Call one of our contacts at NYPD. Let’s get a name for this man and an address... Whatever they have.”
“I’m betting he’s got a record as long as my dick,” drawlsSam, wandering over to join us, shaking out his fist.
“We’re not talking about his small list of minor parking offenses,” I drawl back, making Gabrio snicker.“I want everything they’ve got.”
Pulling on my suit jacket over a bloody black shirt, I slide my knife back into the hidden sheath around my ankle and head for the door with Dog trailing behind. “I want a four-man team watching John Doe at all times, plus two on the door, and two at the rear. Check-ins every half hour. The rest of thesicarioscan go home.”
“Yes,jefe.”
