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God dammit.
It seems like during Jac and my black out, we were moved, and I’m pretty fucking sure we’re in that basement where they held Cat.
Not that I’ve been here before, but shitty and moronic criminals who think they can infiltrate the Quinate are bound to use places they used before.
It looks like the place she described.
As far as I know, there aren’t many dungeon/basements in Delacroix City.
Our plan’s going to go well or badly, but this is coming to a head now. If Cat’s smart, she’s already taken the fuck off.
“Oh, good, you’re awake, Agnossio,” Jac says. “Have a good nap?”
“You’re one to talk, dickwad.”
I can almost feel his anger and fear. The fear’s not for himself—I’m not really sure Jac knows how to do that. No, it’s for Cat. We didn’t leave her a note. No discussion happened with him and me, but I think we’re on the same fucking page.
We don’t want to give her anything that’ll send her hurtling after us. That’ll send her in danger. She’s good at avoiding nets, like the ones I’ve got ready to be flung.
I shift my thoughts.
The goal’s not the jewels; it’s getting the Quinate to get rid of us. Which…
Someone wants revenge. That’s clear. Specifically against me and Jac. Kincaid’s double cross comes as no surprise, but when I deliberately went down, he said he knew someone else who’d want a seat.
“It’s a fine mess,” Jac snarls. “That you got us into.”
“And you didn’t?”
“Y’know,” he says, lifting his arms slightly to show me his bound hands. Mine are handcuffed, too. “When I imagined handcuffs, I figured it’d be on MG, not me.”
I swallow the laugh as I look around. There aren’t any windows and there’s a camera in the corner near the ceiling, the red light blinking. Boxes and plastic tubs are lined on one side, made ominous by the way they just seem to be actual storage.
Who the fuck holds people in a basement they use for storage?
“Could be worse. We could be chained up.” I sigh.
“Well,” he says, “we kind of fucking are.”
The door at the top of the stairs is now open and bright light spills down them. Along with shadows.
Jac goes to say something, but he catches my expression and goes quiet.
I concentrate on the figures at the top. The voices.
A foot appears on a step but stops, and Maximo’s voice tumbles down. “When is your candidate getting here?”
Kincaid answers. “Soon, don’t worry.”
The air throbs, and I know Maximo’s thinking of shooting the prick. Roles reversed, I’d be doing the same. Jac and Declan would have killed him, and Ivan would be on the fence.
Dirty deals are part of our job, and we rule hard and fair. To be told by some fucking upstart not to worry… The kid’s stupid. It’s got nothing to do with the size of his balls. Because even the fucking bravest who has an iota of brain cells wouldn’t mess like this with the Quinate, even if they thought they could replace members.
He’s not in.
He’s just gathering extra minutes before his demise.
“Oh,” says Maximo, “I’m not. But there’s a time limit. They’re out. We don’t need trouble, and you’re getting in is time sensitive.”
