“Wasyour godson.” I correct him. “That was before you assassinated Uncle Angelo… and almost killed Tommy, who was with him. And if that wasn’t enough, you’ve waited all these years to finally eliminate the man whose success overtook your own. You had my father gunned down in an alleyway like a fucking stray dog, didn’t you?”
Carlos shakes his head back and forth, his eyebrows rising above his glasses. “The day you and André were baptized, I stood by your father’s side and promised to protect you both.” He laughs roughly. “Power and greed changed your Papá. Eventually, he let distrust and lies come between us. A wall of suspicion thathecreated… not me. Elias dreamed of building a global empire and tried everything he could to become invincible. I guess that’s what drove the man crazy in the end. And why you, his son, gave up your soul to become his loyal puppet.” He pauses, eyeing me as his head cocks to the side, trying to read my blank expression. “Except… you're not quite the monster he wanted you to be, are you, Giovanni?”
My stomach knots, but I stay stoic, not giving anything away. As far as monsters go, he hasn’t seen anything yet. But if India has suffered in any way, I’d carve his insides out, sizzle his entrails in a skillet, and feed them to his family as their last meal before they die too––every single last one of them.
“You have quite the impressive reputation.” Carlos fingers the silvery goatee on his chin. “Turns out, Elias was far from invincible no matter what lengths he went to. He wasn’t the god he thought himself to be. He was simply a man, just like you and me. We all have an expiration date… much like your beautiful little friend.”
I could flick up my Oxfords and kick this fucker in the throat. Strangle him with my thighs while my arms are still secured. Somehow, I swallow my violent tendencies and contain my temper. Losing my mind won’t win this battle. Patience is the best tactic.
First, I need to figure out where he’s keeping India. Once I’m certain she’s safe, then I’d finish him. Zip ties won’t contain me for long.
“Show me the girl.” I eyeball the armed men next to me and strain to see beyond the thick polythene curtain.
“Well, well, did the great Elias fail to create an elite killing machine after all?” He rotates a chunky gold pinky ring. “Colombia thinks Giovanni Souza is ice cold. An undetectablesicario,whose only ties are his family… and a young girl with big blue eyes.”
I don’t tell him she’s my family.My familia. “The girl has nothing to do with this bullshit. What do you want, Carlos?” I open and close my fingers. I’m on the verge of losing my shit, but rein it in for the end goal.
His brows snap together. “We are talking about the same blonde teen who lured David Castillo and his men in the parking lot at Elysian, right before a masked gunman slaughtered them, aren’t we?”
“There are plenty of blondes in Colombia,” I snarl. “You must be mistaken. And just so you know what to expect, whoever brought her here… whoever touched her… they won’t last two minutes when I’m free of this chair.”
Jets of air shoot down his nostrils. “You have cable ties around your wrists, boy. Admit it, the untraceable Souza has finally been cornered like one of his father’s pet tigers.” His mouth curls up at one side, smug from his statement. “And just so you and I are clear… and I’m rarely wrong. I believe the masked man who orchestrated Castillo’s murder was none other than you. It was only a matter of time before you screwed up.”
“I was out of town.” My heart is hammering in my chest. If he’s certain India was involved, then what did he do to her after the crash? “What reason would the Souzas have to kill Castillo… unless you really are the man behind my father’s assassination and your guilty conscience is fucking withyourhead?”
Carlos sits back in his seat and presses the tips of his fingers and thumbs together to form a diamond shape in the middle. “I had nothing to do with your Uncle Angelo’s death. Or your Papá’s.” He gently rotates his wrist and glances at the gaudy Rolex wrapped around it. “Perhaps you should look closer to home for those answers.”
My scowl burns into his swarthy face where deep lines crease the edges of obsidian eyes. “If this is a ploy to turn the Souza brothers against each other, it won’t work. Your lies mean nothing to me.”
“Think about it, boy. You’re here, albeit restrained, but you’re alive. My men had every opportunity to blow a hole in your face after they smashed your Rolls off the road. I suspected the chassis would be reinforced, and the glass toughened—standard for a criminal like you. We probably even use the same manufacturer.”
His gaze dallies above my left eyebrow, on the oozing cut. “Perhaps they roughed you up some when you fought back. But they brought you here for an audience with me when I could have given the order to kill. These days it's extremely rare for me to roll up my sleeves and involve myself in…” Carlos nods to a man lingering by the partially open curtain, then takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes his hands. “… matters of blatant disrespect. However, this situation is different.You, my boy, are different. And that is why you’re still breathing.”
My eyes shoot sideways to the man he communicated with. “Let me see the girl and then I’ll listen to what you have to say.”
Carlos runs his tongue under his top lip and then clicks his fingers in the air. “There’s a lesson in all of this, Giovanni Souza.”
“Oh yeah, and what's that?”
An aluminum flatbed trolley is wheeled into view. My lungs stop working and my mouth goes dry. A grimy sheet veils an unmoving body, the face concealed too, except it doesn't hide the handmade sandals I had commissioned for my girl––for the love of my godforsaken life.
“Niñita!” I half growl, the raspy tone of my old pet name for her betraying my desperation.
I won’t say her real name out loud or give this fucker any more ammunition than he already has.
Carlos’ sonorous voice whispers around the mayhem in my mind when she doesn’t reply. The callous edges of his words heighten the panic stabbing my chest, so it hurts like hell.
“I know what your weakness is, and now I have the means to take down the most powerful crime syndicate in Colombia. One Souza after the other, insignificant tiny dominoes… unless––”
The trolley comes to a standstill behind him, out of my reach. I hate the secrets in my head that no one could ever understand. How the girl lying beneath the flimsy sheet means more to me than my own life. And the fact Papá was right all this time makes me sick to my stomach.
In the seconds it takes me to inspect every inch of the covering, my brain malfunctions and my lungs cramp. I fall in and out of time. Struggling to see straight through the uncomfortable surge of fear eating me from the inside out. I don’t give a fuck about myself––these men have nothing on me. But India, she’s deathly still. Unresponsive.
I can’t breathe. My throat squeezes around every venomous word I should spit out. But I’m drowning in this horrendous scene before my eyes.
How can she breathe with that over her mouth and nose?
I’m desperately trying to conceal my torn-up emotions, to control the sharp rise and fall of my chest, or give away the ungodly pain behind my eyes. This is my fault. Penance for all the heinous deeds I’ve carried out in my lifetime.
