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His head snaps up as the blade leaves my fingers, slicing through the air faster than he can react. One blink and the pointed edge embeds itself into his shoulder about two inches deep.
“Fuck,” he howls, arching up, which only stresses the wound and forces the blade to dig deeper.
“Crawl, Marin.” I sit forward, snapping my fingers once. It does the job and his focus returns to my face, gritting his teeth from the pain. He has no idea what agony is. “Bring me my knife.”
“Please, don’t kill me.”
“That’s completely up to you.” Tilting my head a bit, I give him a pointed look. “Do as you’re told, Marin. Last chance.”
“Yes, sir.” His head goes down and shoulders drop. It reminds me of an animal when submitting, and slowly, he crawls toward me as his reality sets in.
My invitation wasn’t based on a unification of businesses. It’s not because I like him or think he’s useful or whatever other bullshit he sold himself.
This is a trial.
I am the judge.
It’ll be his execution.
Once he stops beside my right foot, I reach a hand out and ruffle his hair. “You made some costly mistakes, Santiago.” His response to my words is whimpers. The low mumble of what I recognize as a prayer. “Explain yourself.”
“I didn’t—”
Marin stops, eyes widening as I grasp the knife’s handle and push it in and out a few times. “Don’t feed me the mierda you sell your clients. The truth this time.”
“I stole from you.”
“And how would you categorize that move?” Releasing the blade’s handle for the moment, I pat his cheek, the slap loud in the quiet backyard where the only sounds you hear are those coming from the pool’s water and my dogs nearby. “Successful or idiotic?”
“Not my brightest idea.”
“I’ll agree with you there.” My eyes snap to Chiquito and I nod toward the exterior dining area not too far from us. At once he walks in that direction, disappearing a bit from view as he picks up a nondescript box and brings it over. “And what, pray tell, did you take from me? What’s it worth?”
“Street value is high in the US via Mexican traffickers. I met with—”
“A hired transporter, Santiago. He wasn’t a capo, nor was he important.” That knowledge is like adding salt to an open wound, the proof of his stupidity slamming into his processors. “The man you met is here to deliver a payment while exchanging merchandise. He’s someone I know, and immediately came to see me after you interrupted a meeting.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his head down now. It’s a cop-out. It pisses me off. “Had I known...”
“You wouldn’t have?” I finish for him, gripping the knife once again and tapping the carved wooden handle. With each second that ticks on the clock, my drumming becomes rougher. Less patient. “Is that the bullshit you’re trying to feed me?”
“Señor Lucas, I did what any man in my position would.” And yet as he says this, the man in question still won’t look me in the eye. Doesn’t have the cojones to.
“Look at me.” My grip tightens. “At the very least have some fucking dignity while spewing that weak explanation.”
“It’s the only truth that I have.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Marin.” One tug and I pull the bloodied blade out, slicing down his flesh with the motion—the gash from shoulder to elbow is quickly bathed in red. His blood is pooling on the floor below as a pain-filled fuck leaves him. “You did what stupid men do. What all ignorant culicagados do.” Chiquito brings forth the box and places it on the floor beside him. At his proximity, Santiago tries to pull back, but my knife at his temple puts a pause to that. “You underestimated the law.”
“No more. I get it.”
“You underestimated me.”
“I’ll never do it again.” He’s sweating profusely, fighting the instinct to bolt. “I swear.”
Oh, I know he won’t and just smirk. My head tilts toward the box. “Open it.”
“Please don’t make me.” His hands are trembling, knees shifting on the terra-cotta floor, but he doesn’t make a move to follow my instructions. That won’t do. From temple to just below his chin, I dig in the jagged edge, slicing down his face. It’s deep enough that the skin flaps a bit at his chin as I move it across to the other side. “Son of a bitch...fuck!”
