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They want justice.
They don’t care where she is. All they care about is making an example of this asshole so no one else gets the wrong idea again.
“If you tell me what I need to know, I’ll make it worth your while.” Now I’m the one lying. He’s getting a bullet between his eyes no matter what he does.
“¡Por favor, señor! No puedo decirle nada. Carlos fue el que me lo dijo. ¡Él es el que la persigue, es a él a quien debe encontrar!”
Carlos? Even though I know Spanish, I shake my head. This doesn’t make sense. “Carlos Carerro is dead.”
Carlos Carrera was found dead before I came down here. Confirmed. We buried him beside Javier.
He realizes his mistake and quickly shakes his head. He jabbers on in Spanish so broken and rapid I don’t quite get everything. It doesn’t help I’m fixated on what he said either.
Carlos.
Carlos fucking Carrera.
Renata Carrera’s brother. Our mortal enemy. If Carlos is alive, we’ve got bigger problems than we realized.
I take a step toward him and grip his hair. “Do you think I’m fucking stupid? You mean to tell me Carlos is still alive?” He’s made a big fucking mistake telling me this.
The two men look at each other in wide-eyed terror. I can see the whites of both of their eyes. One of them whispers a rushed prayer as if on instinct. If Carlos is alive, they’re fucking dead.
I don’t want a sliver of misunderstanding between us, so I speak to them in their native language. My voice booms in the narrow alleyway so loudly that they both jump. “¿Alguno de ustedes sabe algo sobre esto!”
Do either of you know anything about this?
“No, señor,”they say in unison.
Santiago cries to himself. I turn and stare into his eyes. “You’re lying. I know you are.” I speak softly, almost gently, making sure he hears every damn word I say. “Carlos Carrera is dead. And you know exactly where she is and who took her.”
He shakes his head, his full body trembling. “I don’t!”
Jesus, he’s stubborn. I glare at him. “Show him,” I snap at the men.
In seconds, they pull up screenshots from Santiago’s phone showing Renata's arrival. "We've been watching. We know," the older man says, his voice cold and unwavering. Renata’s beautiful face is evident despite the grainy resolution. “This was taken today.”
Santiago pales now that the evidence of his betrayal is undeniable. He turns his head as if looking away will make this all go away. The coward.
Ihatecowards.
“You thought you could hide her and get away with it. You thought you could be a hero for those who wish to betray us.” I lean in closely. “You thought you could lie and survive.”
He sobs, shaking his head from side to side.
“Do you know what happens to those who betray us?”
“No! No!” The whites of his eyes remind me of a rabid animal. I shake my head and stand up straighter.
I’m done. If Carlos is actually out there, we’ve got to fuckingmove. We’re goddamn sitting ducks.
I nod to the men behind me. The gray-haired one pulls out his Sig Sauer P226 Legion and hands it to me. I love the heft and weight of it and how easy it is to pull the trigger. I love the feel of the cold metal in my palm and barely restrain myself from caressing it.
I aim the gun at Santiago’s head. He babbles on and on in Spanish and then begins to plead in broken English. “No! No, please, I have family. You can’t?—”
I spit on the ground. “They’re better off with you dead than knowing you’re a traitor.”
“I didn’t— I’m not?—”
