Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)(60)

Frederick sloshed the beer onto my map, taking a seat.

I glowered, swiping my hand over the paper before the liquid could ruin it.

Frederick nodded. “I agree. Eat and recharge. You’re no good to her if you’re passed out from hunger.”

The animal inside didn’t need such petty things like nutrition. It only needed blood. But you’re not a f*cking superhuman, so eat up.

Sighing hard, I tried to return to the land of men and sat taller. Acknowledging they had a point, I dug into the noodles and forced myself to swallow. I was a world traveller. I’d lived in cities around the globe, but the man I was at heart was French, and I missed Mrs. Sucre’s duck and homemade baguettes. I missed simple perfection. I missed my regimented life. I missed Tess with every f*cking part of me.

Half-way through my meal, I gave up and growled, “There has to be some other way.”

I slouched, scowling at the droplets of condensation on the beer mug. Frederick mumbled something around his mouthful of food and Franco cocked an eyebrow. “Like what? We’ve tried bribing men we know in the sex trade, we’ve tried beating it out of others. We’ve argued, we’ve threatened, we’ve pleased. Either no one knows who took her, or they’re too terrified to say.”

I rubbed my chin, letting my brain race for clues, answers, conclusions that might work better than our current methods.

“All Mexicans are linked somehow. I read that the city is one of the friendliest on earth,” Frederick said, wiping his mouth and swigging some beer.

Yeah, apart from the raping trafficking bastards.

“It’s said that it’s a matter of pride to have the largest family possible. I’m talking cousins upon cousins upon cousins. You need to go for a—”

“Cousin.” I bolted upright, smiling for the first time in fourteen days at Frederick. “T’es un putain de génie.” You’re a f*cking genius.

Franco stood, glancing around the crowded, dirty bar, making sure my abrupt standing didn’t attract unwanted attention. My muscles were rock-hard at the thought of a bar fight. I craved to use my fists, to pull out the knife and lose myself in anger.

Once he deemed the coast clear, Franco said, “Care to share?”

No, I didn’t care to share as that would be a waste of f*cking time.

Instead of answering, I strode right to the bar and jumped on top. Men nursing their beers looked up with their mouths hanging open, their hands guarding their precious alcohol.

“What the hell are you doing up there?” the barkeep asked.

I threw a hundred euro bill at him. “Turn the music down.”

The barkeep grumbled, but shoved the bill into his dirty apron and reached down behind the counter to mute the volume. In the sudden silence people stopped mid-sentence. All eyes trained on me, and I waited until complete silence reigned.

The moment I had everyone’s attention, I said clearly, “I will pay anyone who has knowledge of a band of men who kidnapped women in the downtown area four months ago. They targeted women from a café and may have had other operations around town.”

My hands curled and I willed myself to continue in a calm voice. “I’ll pay thirty thousand euros to anyone who can give me a name. Totally anonymous. I don’t need to know anything about you. Provide information, and the money is yours.”

Giving incentive, I pulled out a couple hundred euros from my blazer pocket and fanned it out in my hand. “In gratitude for your attention, your dinners and drinks are on me.”

Franco appeared by my feet, looking up with tense awareness. His eyes scanned the room while his hand hovered over his chest holster, ready to pull his gun free in a second. “Time to get down. You’re a sitting duck up there.”

I nodded, saying to the crowd, “I’m sitting at the back. Come find me if you have a name.” I jumped off the bar.

Franco’s eyes bugged out of his head. “What the hell. You were a perfect target up there. Anyone could’ve popped you.”

I brushed my suit and handed the money to the barkeep, whose eyes lit up like a f*cking firework. “That’s for everyone’s tabs for tonight, understand?”

He nodded. I doubted he would be trustworthy, but I really didn’t care.

“Someone will squeal, Franco. They always do when money is involved.”

“What if they just kill you expecting to find more than thirty G in your pockets?”

I smirked, brushing past him to go and sit down. “That’s what you’re here for. To keep me alive to do stupid shit like this.”

He huffed and the music increased to deafening decibels yet again.

I moved back to my seat and settled in for my prey to come to me.

*****

Six hours later, the barkeep tried to kick us out.

No one ventured near our table, and there were only so many beers we could drink before our concentration faltered.

We paid off the barman to stay overnight. I didn’t want to move. In my mind, the nugget of information I needed was on the way to me, heralded by the allure of thirty thousand euros. I visualized the news being spread from mouth to mouth, making its way through ghettos and impressive neighbourhoods, passed cousin to cousin. Eventually someone would know. Eventually someone would come to me.

I refused to think otherwise.

By the time morning peeked through the filthy windows, my ass was flat from sitting and my back screamed bloody murder. But a new day had arrived.