“I wasn’t the driver tonight. After what you saw, do you believe all I have is this handgun? Enrique, can you grab my shotgun and my rifle, please?”
I stick with French since I know Enrique understands. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn his nephews do, too. I sense Enrique’s movement behind me. He hesitates, but then I hear the trunk open. I’m watching Gérard as his gaze darts toward the vehicle, then back up to me.
“You know my reputation—even if you didn’t know it was me—and you know how I enjoy hunting. Maybe I should make you run. Can you hide behind a tree faster than I can shoot you? You know what happens to the body when it’s hit with buckshot at close range. Is that how you’d like me to begin your torture? Because your fingers were just a hello.”
The guy shakes his head, knowing everything I threaten is an understatement. I’ve hunted for nearly thirty years, and I’ve yet to miss my target when I make someone my prey.
“So, I’ll ask you one more time before I get really convincing. Where is Catalina?”
I grab his pinky and pull it backwards until it nearly touches his wrist.
“She’s at a warehouse in Hoboken.”
He blurts his answer in English. She’s still here in Jersey and not too far away. But I don’t know which syndicate has properties there.
“Did you take her there?”
He shakes his head and then tilts it toward the other man who’s still standing outside the vehicle. These two fuckers were in the back seat to coerce Matías. I can’t blame the man for choosing his wife over Enrique and me. I understand he’s supposed to put hisjefebefore everyone else. But I will never fault a person for putting their children ahead of absolutely everything. And I won’t fault them for putting their spouse ahead of most things.
Enrique hands me the rifle, and I click the safety back on my handgun. My capris’ waistband is snug enough to tuck the handgun against the small of my back. I check the chamber before I aim the rifle at the man who’s said nothing yet. I put a bullet through each foot. I recognize the man from photos, but I’ve never met him before. I use the little German I have with the guy.
“Ich weiß, wer Sie sind, auch wenn wir uns noch nie gesehen haben. Wie lautet die Adresse?” I know who you are, even if we haven’t seen each other before. What’s the address?
The man glares at me and shakes his head while Enrique’s guards have to hold him up. I gesture with the rifle to let him sit. When he does, he brings his shins up in front of him. I put a bullet through his left one.
“I can keep going. Can you?”
The man’s clearly in agony, despite how he tries not to show it. Blood gushes from his feet and his shin. I comb through my memory for what I know about him. I remember he speaks English, too.
“You have a son at NYU. He lives in an apartment not too far off campus. Does he know you’re here in the States, Johann? Is it time for you to have a brief visit? We can bring him here for you.”
That gets his attention.
“Stay the fuck away from my son.” His English is perfect.
“Then tell me what I want to know. Where is Catalina? What warehouse in Hoboken is she in?”
“Fuck off.”
“The faster you give me my answer, the faster I can do just that. I hadn’t planned to spend my evening with anybody other than my boyfriend.”
I smirk and waggle my eyebrows. This isn’t any less of a pissing contest just because I squat, and they stand. I turn my head as though I’m looking toward Enrique, but I don’t take my eyes off the guy in front of me.
“Jealous of my plans?” I cock an eyebrow, and the guy jerks back. “Oh, you didn’t think I knew about that? You think that’s your best kept secret? Hardly. I’ve known about Gaston for years. I may not have met you before, but you’re not a stranger. What would your wife say? What would your other boyfriend, Freddy, say about that?”
“You wouldn’t dare. That would put a target on you for life.”
“You don’t think there’s already at least one on me? You were here for all of this tonight. You have far more to lose than I do, Johann. You’re here alone with no one to protect you. I’m the one with the guns and men. So, I’m asking you for the last time. Where is Catalina?”
I walk over to him and kick the shin where blood pours from the gunshot wound. He howls and sucks in a breath. He rambles off an address, and I hear Alejandro barking orders at someone. I don’t turn to see who Alejandro’s speaking to. He might have even called someone. I look over at Gérard instead.
“Is there anything else I should know about Catalina’s location?”
Gérard shakes his head.
They’re giving in far faster than I imagined. It’s a combination of my reputation, Enrique’s family’s, and the guards. They know their death is inevitable, so they’d prefer to make it painless.
I look between my two prisoners, shifting my rifle between them.
