AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Your boss is just as bloodthirsty as you claim me to be, and cares nothing for the lives of his men. Nothing for your lives, sending you out on a suicide mission when he knows by now the kind of force the Bratva would bring to an event like this.”
“He’s not—”
“One minute left!”
“—like you.”
“Then why are you here?” I pulled on Jose’s nail, enough to force a grunt out of him, and Santiago’s fingers began to convulse against his armrests.
“Fifty seconds, boss.”
“Why, Santiago? If he’s such a good man, if he cares for his people, then why are you in this position?”
“Don’t answer him,chacho,” Jose gritted out from behind clenched teeth, reverting back to Spanish. “He’s playing games.”
“Why are you here instead of safe in your bed?” I continued. “Is El Luchador completely unintelligent? Can he not strategize? Is your leader a moron not worth following, or a selfish bastard equally unworthy of his position without a care for the lives of his men?”
“Thirty seconds.”
“Tell me, Santiago, because it has to be one of those two options.”
“You’re crazy, man,loco.” Santiago whispered, and I tugged slowly on Jose’s next nail, semi-dislodging it, knowing from experience that it was more painful than a quick tug. And when the older man grunted again and twitched violently in his seat, Santiago’s eyes rolled like a frightened horse as he frantically looked around the room, searching for an escape.
“Ten seconds.”
“H-he’s not stupid,” Santiago muttered. “He’s good. He saved me, he’s good…”
“Then what source is feeding your boss bad information on us?” I demanded.
A tear dropped out of his eye and rolled down his cheek, even as he continued to frantically scan the room as if desperate to look at anything but me and his partner. “I don’t know. I swear to God, man, I don’t know who. They don’t tell us shit like that.”
So. There was a who, after all.
The little beeping alarm of the stopwatch rang out across the room, and I ripped out Jose’s second fingernail. It was distracting, they’d think I did it out of anger for not getting information out of them, and they’d both be unlikely to notice or remember Santiago’s slip of the tongue.
Who.
Someone was feeding them information about us. Which could only mean one thing.
The Bratva had a traitor in our midst, and I didn’t want them to know that I suspected it.
A cold finger of horror and suspicion ran its way down my back. I looked up at Boris again, but he was paying no attention as he fiddled to reset the stopwatch. I pushed aside my annoyance at his inattention, forcing myself to focus.
Perhaps it was better if he didn’t know what I suspected, anyway.
I eyed him one more time, before turning back to my captives.
“Useless,” I sighed, dropping the pliers straight to the floor as I stood and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Boris, don’t bother with the next round. These morons have nothing for me.”
Santiago sagged in relief, but Jose only stiffened, eyeing me as if he expected to immediately receive a shot to the head. Which was a very fair assumption. However…
“I’m sending you back to your boss with this message,” I said absently, as I pulled my handkerchief back out and wiped specks of Jose’s blood from my fingers. “First, tell him what a very reasonable man I am, for sending bothhis men back to him, alive and well.” Jose’s eyes widened at that, and I sent him a cold smile. “But this is the absolute last reprieve he will get, the last show of reason, rationality, and good faith that he will ever get from the Bratva. I want to talk to him. In person. Face to face. If he cannot offer me this one show of respect, then there is nothing that will help you or your men again, for as long as El Luchador continues to breath. Do you understand?”
Santiago nodded almost convulsively, his eyes squeezed shut in relief that I wasn’t continuing, but Jose continued to stare at me as if he wasn’t quite convinced. No matter, his opinion meant little to me.
Pocketing my handkerchief, I turned and walked slowly towards the door, speaking to Boris in Russian and looking at no-one. “Blindfold them, drive them downtown and dump them. Cut the rope off their hands but leave the bags on and get out of there.”
Boris hesitated, and then turned to follow me out. Once we were at the far end of the hall, he spoke. “You’re really letting them live after they shot at you and your girl?”
