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If we were going to die, or be forced to run for our lives somehow, if everything was going to be so scary that I didn’t even know how to handle it, I was still going to be a mother to my little boy and protect him from what was going to happen. I would spend my last breath trying to provide him with safety and comfort, even if I failed. It was all I could do.
I sat there numbly while the two men got out and started speaking to each other. But something was strange—they weren’t speaking English or Russian. They were speaking Spanish, Puerto Rican Spanish.
“Run up and tell Miguel that we got them. Now all we have to do is finish the frame-up and wait for Viktor to lose his mind.”
“You sure this is going to work?”
“Of course. If he thinks Luis killed his son and the boy’s mother, he’ll stop at nothing until Luis is dead.”
I clapped a hand over my mouth, horror rising in my throat like bile. They planned to use us to drive Viktor into a frenzy and start an all-out war.
“Thinking about it…it’s better than that,” the other snickered, and I suddenly recognized the voice. Paco! That bastard who had fought with Luis and scared the kids.
“If Luis thinks Viktor killed his sister’s best friend and her son in a fit of rage, he’ll stop at nothing too. They’ll get rid of each other!”
Boris chuckled and waved Paco on. “I’ll be up with them in a few minutes.”
So that was their plan. Frame Luis and Viktor both for our murders, set them at each other’s throats, and then arrange to kill them during the resulting war.
At which point, Miguel and Boris would take over their respective groups and set up a truce.
How long had they been working together? How long had they been plotting against their own bosses, who trusted them?
Probably a long time. Long enough that if I wasn’t conveniently here, they would have found another way. Anything to satisfy their own lust for power.
I tried to plead with Boris again as he opened the door and forced us out, but he simply looked at Michael meaningfully and touched his holstered pistol. I shut up, picked up Michael, and walked obediently to the elevator.
The hotel renovation was mostly done inside, enough that the new carpets were laid, the new doors hung, the recessed lights and plaster molding installed. We went up to the top floor, the fifth, and came out into a lobby space where several men lounged, chatting in a mix of Spanish and Russian.
One of them was Puerto Rican and almost as handsome as Viktor, in an elegant and broody-eyed way, with a killer mustache I wouldn’t soon forget. But as our eyes met, I noticed how empty his smile was, and shivered.
“So, you got them,” the man I assumed must be Miguel, said grandly to Boris. “Good. Go get yourself a drink. I think the lady is smart enough not to try to run with so many of our men around.” He stared me in the eyes.
I swallowed and nodded.
Miguel cocked his head. “Is your little boy sleeping?”
“No, he’s terrified. We got dragged over here at gunpoint.” I couldn’t keep the edge out of my voice.
“I see.” He sniffed and exchanged glances with Boris, who was pouring himself three fingers of Scotch from the elegantly appointed bar. “So, you have something to say for yourself?”
“Yes. Look, I’m guessing you either want me as bait for Victor, or you want to hurt us and have Viktor blame Luis for that.”
“Or Luis blame Viktor. Whatever gets them fighting properly.” His smile showed all his teeth. “You have some better idea, perhaps? Something that might save your lives?”
“You do whatever you want to me. But let my little boy go. Killing me is insult enough, and my son hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s just a little boy. You don’t need both of us. Please…please, let him go. You don’t need him.”
“Ah, but you see, I can’t do that.” Miguel sounded almost genuinely regretful. “We need your son to goad Viktor into action properly. He’s too calm, he thinks too fucking much. How do I know how much he cares about someputa? But his son, his heir… Now that will guarantee action.”
“Yes, and I’m saying he doesn’t care enough about either of us to be goaded into anything. The man dumped me this morning!”
This didn’t seem to concern Miguel so much as make him thoughtful. “I see. So you believe this is an indication that he does not care what happens to you or his son.”
“He sure doesn’t seem to,” I said.
He nodded slowly, then looked at Boris again as the big man came over to sit on a nearby couch. I still stood there awkwardly, the two men lounging and watching us.
“That’s really too bad. However, I know for a fact that no man genuinely turns off his emotions when he breaks up with his woman. And he’ll certainly concern himself about the fate of his son.”
