Chapter 20
Efren
“You’re drunk. Let’s go,” Axel commands.
“Axel, stop! I’m not drunk,” Ariella cries out as he pushes her forward.
I follow them into the hotel lobby, watching from the shadows. It’s not long before Thalia Consuelo’s signature red-bottomed heels click against the floor behind them.
“Axel, let her fucking go.”
“Stay out of it, Thalia,” Axel warns.
“Axel! Fucking stop!” Ariella cries out.
“You know as well as I do, Thalia, if the Cuevas’s get wind of her acting like a fucking slut the deal is off!” he growls.
My fists clench at my side. I’m ready to walk forward, expose myself, and expose Patricio, to protect Ari, who has been nothing but kind to me.
But then Thalia reaches out and punches Axel in the face.
I’m about to take a step forward when a hand wraps around my mouth.
Something lights my airways on fire. The fight in me emerges, then dissipates.
It’s the last memory I have before losing consciousness. Something burns in my lungs. I look around, but there’s nothing but cement walls surrounding me and a light bulb swinging in the center of the room. The repetitive squeaking is only half of my torment.
Squeak
Squeak
Squeak
There’s an ache in my jaw and another in my ribcage.
The pain is there, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.
This is like the Extreme Horror Adventures I would sign up for.
For a couple of hundred dollars, I’d pay to be tortured and left alone in the woods to survive.
But this is a hundred percent free, organic torture.
I look around the concrete room, but it’s barely visible out of the swelling in my right eye. A faint dripping sounds in the distance. Not water. Blood, maybe, or sweat. The stench of both clings to me. My eyelids feel like sandbags, every blink scraping grit across my eyes.
A shiver licks down my spine. The first thing I register is the pull in my arms, then the frantic search for ground beneath my feet. I try to free my wrists, but they’ve been chewed raw by the weight of my own body.
“Fuck!” I wail.
The cry echoes around me, fading into the dark.
Squeak
Squeak
Squeak
The bulb overhead swings on its chain, casting warped shadows that crawl up the walls.
My body’s broken. But I’m still here.
My eyelids grow heavy, but I’m still here.
And if I’m still here, they fucked up.
_______
I remain falling in and out of consciousness until a flood of light shines through, followed by the sound of boots clicking against the floor.
“Take him down,” a voice demands in a thick Italian accent.
Two more shadows walk up. Rough hands tear at the restraints, sending a white-hot scream through my shoulders as I drop to the ground. My knees buckle under me, the cold concrete floor catching me.
“Mr. Nevarez.”
A large man crouches in front of me, his tailored slacks creasing at the knees. He hooks the barrel of his gun under my chin, forcing my head up.
It’s not the face I expect. I’d been sure Axel sent his flock of vultures out for me.
He’s got a reputation for that. But the man looking down at me has a lean, angular face, a long straight nose, and eyes too calm for a killer.
His salt-and-pepper hair is combed neatly over, his beard trimmed with precision.
“I see you’ve been given the VIP treatment.” He observes, moving my face to the side.
My mouth tastes like blood and rot. I spit to the side, barely missing his shoe.
“I don’t want to hurt you. That’s not my style. I prefer conversation.” He says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Cooperation.”
He stands to his full height, taking his time as he pulls a cigarette from his jacket pocket.
One of his goons steps forward to light it for him.
I brace myself for another blow, but the man hands me the lit cigarette.
My hands shake when I reach for it. There’s pain in my lungs when I take a long inhale and more pain when I exhale.
“Here is the thing, Mr. Nevarez, I can have these men hang you up again, we can start another day of torture, or you can give me what I’m looking for.”
I draw the smoke in slowly, until I feel it coating my lungs. My wrists throb where the cuffs had dug in. The man in front of me waits for an answer, but it never comes. Not from my mouth.
“Where is Vidal Montalvan building his new compound?”
I stare at him. He doesn’t know me, and I don’t know him, but I know myself. And I’m sure I’ll be the craziest son of a bitch he’s ever met because torture is a hobby to me. And snitching on my boss is out of the question.
Vidal had told me there would be people who would use me to get to him, and I’d been prepared for that. I just wasn’t prepared for it to happen while I was wearing one of my favorite suits.
“You think you’re doing this for loyalty?” The man goes on, “But loyalty to the wrong man? That’s just another kind of cowardice.”
He stands and walks to the door at the other end of the empty room. Stepping out, he grabs a suitcase and returns.
“A quarter of a million dollars. You tell me what I want to know, and you can have it all. Escape, and I’ll take care of Vidal.”
He nudges the suitcase in front of me with his foot. I stare at it. This smug bastard has no idea I’ve turned down more for less. I look up and take the last drag of the cigarette before I smile at him.
“Fuck you.”
He blinks, staring over me before a small laugh escapes him. It comes out low as he crouches back down to face me.
“You know who I am? I’m Savino Biondini, the head of the Italian Mob. This is chump change compared to what I’d be willing to pay you for Vidal’s head.”
“Fuck. You,” I say again, slower this time.
Savino pauses. Then his lip twitches. He turns his head toward the two men standing by the door
“Sei pazzo, questo stronzo.” He laughs before turning back to me. “I like that,” he adds, almost to himself. “Fucking lunatic.”
He motions for his men to take the suitcase away. As they do, he leans down, just enough for me to catch the faint smell of jasmine on him.
“You know, I like you. It says a lot about a man’s character when circumstances control their loyalty. Vidal is lucky to have you.”
With a twist of his wrist, one of the men behind him brings forward my cellphone. Savino’s fingers move quickly on the screen before he drops the cellphone in front of me.
“But liking you won’t keep you alive. See, Mr. Nevarez, this is usually the part in an interrogation where I threaten your entire family. But you don’t have anyone. Nothing to lose, and nothing to gain. It’s a sad life, but it makes for a loyal soldier.”
Savino and his men exit the room, and I pull out my cellphone. The screen is left on a text sent to Vidal’s burner phone. Two words.
He passed.
My head falls to the concrete wall behind me. I think back to Savino’s parting words about having nothing to lose. That’s where he was wrong. I do have something to lose, and I need to get back to her as soon as possible.