Page 41 of Tainted Blood
“Vincenzo,” he answers pitifully, his voice hoarse from screaming.
“Well, Vincenzo, it’s your lucky day. You get two cartel bosses for the price of one. Guests first, Carrera...”
I can’t tell if he’s being serious or a dick. It doesn’t matter either way.
“Knife,” I order, holding out my hand. Within seconds, an impressive pocketknife is placed in my palm. “Let me tell you how this is going to work, Vincenzo...” Popping the blade, I watch his eyes widen as I circle him. “Nothing comes for free in this world. We’re going to ask questions, and you’re going to answer them. If your answer is to our liking, you pay for being a hijo de tu puta madre in blood.” I tap the blade against his cheek. “That’s son of a bitch, for the linguistically impaired.” Straightening up, I continue to circle. “If you lie, or piss us off, we’ll just slit your throat and call it a day. Got it?”
Not much of a choice, but he nods anyway.
“Muy bien. Question number one. Do you know who kidnapped my wife and sister?”
Think carefully, motherfucker.
He swallows hard. “No, no I don’t know his name.”
I frown. “That’s a shame.” The moment I turn my hand sideways and aim for his throat, Vincenzo starts crying like a little bitch. “No, per favore! Please! I may not know his name, but I can describe him!”
Interesting.
“You have thirty seconds.”
Red spit bubbles form at the corners of his mouth as frantic words tumble out of it. “American. Corto....uh, how do you say this in English? Short? Sí, short. With small eyes, like ratto...ehhh, rat. And he wore black glasses. Always eating arachidi.”
Fucking peanuts.
There’s only one man that fits that description. One man who managed to infiltrate both my inner circle and Grayson’s… The same man who was at my fucking wedding.
That’s the moment the cage unlocks and twenty-four hours of tension spills out in a rush of wrath and fury. “Spader,” I growl between clenched teeth. I glance at Grayson who stands motionless, his jaw clenched.
I’ve always known betrayal wears many faces. What I never saw coming was the one orchestrated by a man dedicated to my climb to glory.
“You... You like?” the Italian stutters.
And the demons dance.
“Yes, Vincenzo, I like your answer. Unfortunately, I don’t like looking at your fucking tattoo anymore, so I’m getting rid of it.” He barely has a chance to register what I’m saying before I plunge the tip of my knife into the side of his neck. As three sicarios move in to hold him still, I flay a layer of his skin. By the end, he’s both screaming prayers and cursing me to hell in Italian.
They’re both unneeded. It’s a superficial wound, and I was cursed to hell long before I was born.
When I’m done, I turn to Grayson. “All yours.”
He doesn’t waste any time. “Who’s behind La Societá Villefort these days?”
The Italian hesitates a beat too long, and Grayson breaks his nose in one vicious punch.
Garbled words mix with his pleas for mercy. “He’ll kill me if I tell—”
“We’ll kill you if you don’t.”
He passes a look back and forth between Grayson and me before letting out a ragged breath of resignation. “Il Re Nero. He calls himself The Black King.”
“I need a name, Vincenzo, not an ego trip.”
“Lorenzo Zaccaria.”
“Fuuuck,” Grayson hisses. “Tommaso’s grandson. He’s been moving in the shadows this whole time.”
The Italian shakes in his chair. “Please, no more.”
