Vice(8)

Julio tries to sit up, to lean closer to me, but he only manages to heft his weight a mere inch or two from the bed. “You’re so f*cking dead,” he hisses. “You’d better pray I can get that finger stitched back on, or I’m—”

“Or you’re what?” I tip my head to one side, arching an eyebrow. “You’re gonna have me killed? You’ll take your anger out on the Widow Makers? Go after Rebel? Do you honestly think you’re in a position to be making threats like that, Perez? Rebel’s given me the go-ahead to put you the f*ck down. You’re only going to walk out of this room alive by my mercy, and I’m not feeling very merciful right now. That could change, depending on how you answer my questions, though.”

“Save your breath, cabron. I know why you’re here. I know what you want, and I can’t f*cking help you.”

“Well, that really is a shame.” I locate my balisong again, flicking it open, perhaps with a little more show than is truly necessary. Julio eyes the blade with fear in his eyes.

“I can’t help you, because I don’t know where they took her. I don’t know where she’s been. I don’t know anything.”

“Where did the photo come from then, *? How did Rebel speak to her on your phone in that hotel room? He said she was alive.” I grab hold of his ring finger with my free hand, making a show of holding the blade to the base of it, and Julio starts shaking his head.

“Look, a guy came out to the compound one night. This big f*cking hot shot. Stacks of money in briefcases. He wanted to spend the night with three girls. I said sure. Fine. Who would he prefer? He said he has this huge thing for redheads. He picked my own girl, Alaska. I would normally have told him to go f*ck himself, but he paid a hundred grand for one night. The next morning, he comes to me. He offered me a trade. He wanted to keep Alaska. Showed me these profiles of a bunch of girls he had back in Chile or Columbia. I can’t remember where.”

I grind the edge of the blade into Julio’s skin. “This is a really long story, man. My attention is starting to wander.”

“Shit, Preston. Back up. I’m trying to tell you, ese!”

“Get on with it,” I growl.

“So she’s there. Your sister is there. I recognized her from the pictures Rebel showed to me a few years back. I took copies. I’ve been looking for her, too.”

“Why? Why the f*ck would you be keeping an eye out for my sister?”

Julio squirms, a big, ugly grub on the end of a hook. “Why do you think, cabron? If Rebel wants something that badly, I am going to try and get it first.”

“So you said you’d trade Alaska for Laura?”

“Yes.”

I punch him as hard as I can in the throat. Julio makes a gurgling choking noise as I lean down, shoving my face into his. I am all he can see, hear or worry about. “That was a seriously shitty thing to do,” I tell him. “You should have called me. You should have called Rebel. Where the f*ck is my sister now, Julio?”

“I told you, I don’t…know!” he chokes out. “He took Alaska when he left. He said he’d send three men back with your sister in a few weeks. He left another three hundred thousand as security. His men answered the phone when I was in that hotel room with Rebel, they let her speak to him, but that was the last time I heard from him. He never showed up with her, and he never came back for his money. He must have wanted to keep both of them.”

“Or you freaked him out when you put her on the phone with Rebel. You’re a stupid son of a bitch, Julio. Fuck, I should just kill you right now for being such a cunt.”

Julio opens his mouth, is about to say something else, but I clench my fist over his head, implying what will happen if he even dares to breathe one word. Whatever he was planning on saying dies on his lips.

“Who was he?” I demand. “This guy who showed up out of nowhere, wanting to f*ck your girls?”

“I don’t know. I swear, I don’t f*cking—”

I punch him in his throat again. He coughs, rattling, wheezing, and I lean back, sighing as I wait for him to sort his shit out. When he’s done, I continue. “You don’t let anyone through your gates unless you know exactly who they are, what they had for breakfast and how many shits they’ve taken since they woke up. So you had to have known who he was, Julio.”

“I didn’t.” He winces, screwing his eyes shut, anticipating my next blow. I decide to give him a second to finish his sentence, though. “He came with one of my regulars. Manny. He’s my brother, ese. I allowed him to bring people in with him all the time.”

“Bad business. Very bad for business,” I say. “Where’s Manny now? Back in the States?”

“No. No, he’s dead, okay? He was shot in Downtown LA.”

“Convenient.”

“Not convenient for me,” Julio gasps. “If I could send you off after him, I would. Then you wouldn’t be here, messing up my shit.”

“I suppose that’s true.” I stop leaning quite so heavily onto his neck. “Describe this guy to me, then. What did he look like?”

“South American, olive skin. Brown eyes, brown hair. Fuck, Cade, I don’t know. Wait, he was really thin. His shirt and his pants looked like they were a size too big for him or something.”