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“I don’t see any ladies,” I snapped back. “Unless you mean him.” I nodded at the goon, who, true to goon style, took offense at the idea of being called a woman, cracking his knuckles and taking a threatening step forward. I smirked up at him. “Hey, I don’t judge.”
Garcia made a sharp gesture, and the goon stopped his advance.
“Come now, Mr. Hart. Such childish baiting ought to be beneath you.”
“Ought it? I thought there was only gravel beneath me, but what the fuck do I know?”
Celestina Pelayo sniffed, the sound judgmental and disdainful.
“Hey lady, this wasn’t my fucking choice,” I told her. “You don’t like me, throw me back where you found me.”
Garcia laughed again. “Oh, Mr. Hart, you and I both know that isn’t going to happen.”
Again, he wasn’t wrong.
“Again,” I replied, “fuck you and the fucking horse you rode in on.”
Another laugh, although I could hear an edge of irritation underneath the forced mirth. “You really do have the most… interesting turns of phrase.” Another predatory smile. “Now, how about you tell me what really led you to my office this afternoon.”
“How about… you go fuck yourself?”
“Nico?”
Of course the goon was fucking named Nico.
And had a foot that felt like a sledgehammer.
I was gasping and curled around my throbbing abdomen, pretty sure I had a cracked rib or two, by the time Garcia told Nico to take a break.
“Are we feeling more cooperative, Mr. Hart?” Garcia asked.
I felt a semi-hysterical laugh burble up, even though it made my whole ribcage ache. “Are you feeling more like sticking your own dick up your ass?” I retorted, uncertain whether or not I could taste blood in my mouth.
This time, Nico targeted my face, and on the second kick, I felt the skin of my cheek split anddefinitelytasted blood.
“Easy, now, Nico. We do need them to be able to recognize his corpse,” Garcia interrupted after kick number four.
I spat out a mouthful of blood, wondering if I had any loose teeth. Not that it really mattered, since I probably wasn’t going to need them again. It wasn’t like Garcia was going to give me chips or a cookie before he had Nico bash my skull in.
“Mr. Hart, would you care to provide us with some illumination? Who sent you to me?”
So he had no idea. I felt laughter bubbling up again. Garcia had no fucking idea that we were talking to his victims. Which meant he had no idea that my boss was a warlock medium who could probably fuckingflattenhim.
I felt a sudden surge of regret that I hadn’t set the emails to send earlier—because Ward arriving about now with the proverbial cavalry—dead or alive or both—would have been fucking amazing. But that was my own dumbass fault for getting cocky.
I’d always been an arrogant dickhead. And it was finally going to kill me.
But at least I had the satisfaction of knowing that I wasn’t going to be taking my friends with me.
Through the haze of pain as Nico dealt out the punishment for my amusement, I realized that if Garcia was Ordo, then Celestina Pelayo had absolutely no business being here.
None at all.
But if she was here, because Izar had confirmed that the elder dame Pelayo was Culhua, then…
I started to laugh again, the sound broken and gasping around the impacts from Nico’s extremely large foot.
“What, pray tell, is so very amusing, Mr. Hart?” Garcia was getting pissed.
