Chapter 63
I strummed my fingers against the marble windowsill, looking down at the backstreets of London. There had been no word from the boy, nor Maria, and I was starting to lose my patience.
“Boss,” came Garret’s gruff voice from the door.
“If you don’t come bearing good news, I’ll rip your bollocks off, feed them to my dogs and then toss you in the fucking Thames,” I spat, not turning to look at him.
“Ramos and the girl are alive. She gave birth to a girl.”
The tumbler in my hand shook as the rage built.
Arturo fucking Ramos and that whore he’d attached himself to. Why wouldn’t they just die? And now he’s got a kid to carry on his name.
“Fuck’s sake!” I slammed my fist against the wall, leaving a dent. “Do I have to do everything myself?” I ran my hand through my hair, ripping it from the root, before walking over to my desk. “That incompetent bitch never could get anything right… Have we heard from Henry?”
“No,” Garret folded his arms, coming to stand closer to my desk, “he’s gone awol.”
“Fucking wanker! I should have known better than to trust a Duval.” I knocked back the Hennessy in my glass. Although, this could be good. “What’s the kid's name?” I asked, already hatching a plan in my head.
“Valencia Ramos.”
“Bring Carter to me.” A smug smile spread across my face. If I couldn’t kill the cunt, I’d ruin his family one way or another. It would just take time.
“But, Boss?—”
“Now!” I yelled, making Garret wince. Giving a brief nod, he stalked out of the room.
Oh, Arturo, the game isn’t over yet.
And it won’t be until you’ve lost everything and been brought to me on your knees, begging for your life.
The need to ruin his existence was like an itch I couldn’t scratch. All I could think about was tearing his tongue from his skull and putting a bullet in his head. Bending to my desk, I inhaled a line and then dropped to my chair.
You’re mine you fucking cunt.