The ties that bind 3, p.27
The Ties That Bind 3, page 27
part #3 of The Ties That Bind Series
“Spare me the theatrics!” Gualtierro suspended the mangled cartilage in front of him. “You’re too late. I’ve been offended since I discovered that you decided not to heed my caveats of discretion and chose your vices instead! In spite of your insolence, I like the work you do for me, Granger. Therefore, I’m not going to kill you. To search for someone new would be a time-consuming process. You will, however, be prepared for me to call in your marker. It could happen at any time,” he warned.
“Okay! I’ll do it! Just…please! No more!”
Benito released him on his boss’s signal. Andy rolled around on the floor; wailing and rubbing his stinging scalp and cradling his injury.
“We’ll be going now. I look forward to our next business transaction.”
Andy rolled to his feet and extended his bloody palm. “Wait! My ear!” he sniveled. “It can be salvaged, but I need to get to the hospital…”
“No. It belongs to me now.” Gualtierro wiped the blade clean on the bed comforter and slipped it back into its sheath. Next, he pulled out a handkerchief and placed his latest trophy inside and wrapped it up.
“You can’t-” Andy started to protest but fell silent at Benito’s ominous growl.
“From this day forward, it will give me great comfort in knowing that I’ll always have your ear.” Gualtierro pivoted toward the door.
“Take care of this,” he instructed Nick and tossed Andy’s ear at him. “We have another meeting to attend, and you need to get to work afterward if you intend to make it back to your job in a timely manner, ‘Mr. Hotshot Professor’.”
Nick caught the cartilage with a distasteful frown. “Who’s Slade? And the Immortals?”
Gualtierro’s graced him with the crocodile smile that showed too many teeth. “Careful, sobrino. Remember, I decide what you get to know and when you get to know it.”
Raymundo tugged his bandana underneath his chin and removed his shades. He hung them on the end of his ape bar and eased off his bike when the black town car rolled up. Barrera had chosen the base of the Sandia Mountains in Albuquerque for today’s meeting. Frankie and Charlie followed their prez as Gualtierro, the bodyguard that doubled as his shadow, and Nick emerged from the vehicle.
The capitán offered his hand, and Raymundo shook it, even though he wanted to spit in his face instead.
“It’s good to see you, amigo!” Gualtierro jovially greeted him. “Thank you for meeting me on such short notice.”
“And you too, amigo. No worries. What can I do for you?”
“I’d like you to tell me about the leader of the Immortals.”
Raymundo feigned surprise. “Slade Lawson? You had me ride all the way out here to discuss him? What’s this meeting really about, Gualtierro? You could have simply called me for the info you need.”
“A face-to-face was necessary as I need your assistance in possibly facilitating a meeting with him!” Gualtierro snapped.
He paused, surprised at his loss of control. The speculation in Raymundo’s eyes unnerved him. The last time they’d met, desperation trickled from the MC president’s pores. He was practically willing to suck Gualtierro’s dick in order to generate money for his club. Now, he seemed barely interested in sticking his neck out on his behalf.
Raymundo bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the vexation stamped on Gualtierro’s face. He was enjoying seeing the fearsome capitán off-balance, knowing it galled him to have to seek him, a lowly biker, out for assistance.
“Has something changed in our relationship, amigo? What did I miss? Is it because I didn’t have a chance to listen to your business proposition? Perhaps, I can listen to it after we resolve my pressing concern for which I’m prepared to generously compensate you for your invaluable time.”
Oh, now you want to talk, pendejo? Raymundo snorted. He had to give it to Barrera. The son of a bitch just waltzed into town, dropped his pants, and expected him to blow. Them fucking days were over.
“You want to know what’s changed? Not too long ago, Slade accused me of having knowledge about a flesh-peddling deal you conducted between his son and some members of his club which would be a direct violation of our MC treaty. You made me look like a fucking fool.”
Gualtierro flashed a smile of false contrition. “My apologies, amigo. That was not my intention. I merely saw an opportunity and took it. Look it as a test run, perhaps. If it had worked out, I would have extended an offer to your MC too,” he placated, attempting to soothe ruffled feathers.
“I would have appreciated that,” Raymundo grunted.
Lying sack of shit.
“Then allow me to make it up to you in good time. Speaking of Harley, I’d like you to facilitate a meeting with him and his friends, Pitch and Digger. We had a Gentlemen’s Agreement, and I’m afraid they haven’t lived up to their end of the bargain. That needs to be addressed.”
“I don’t know about the other two, but Harley won’t be showing up. He committed suicide. Listen; whatever is going on, I want no part of it. The Immortals will amass and call in their other chapters if needed. I’m trying to avoid violence and bloodshed. Understand that and we have a deal.”
“It is understood.”
“Going in, you need to know Slade is a bastard. He’s greedy and power-hungry and won’t tolerate being taken advantage of. He’s an eye for an eye type of asshole. Don’t turn your back on him. Ever. That help?”
Gualtierro reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope and handed it to him. “Immensely. Gracias.”
Raymundo took it and opened it. He pulled the cash out and his lips twisted wryly at the amount. Ten thousand dollars.
“Damn. Am I that predictable?”
Yes, you pathetic cucaracha, Gualtierro silently jeered. “I merely like to show my appreciation for vital information. One other thing. Can you look into the whereabouts of a woman named Wynona Franklin, por favor?”
“Wynona?”
Why did that name sound familiar?
“Yes, do you know her?”
Suddenly it hit Raymundo. Wynona was the name of Lorelai’s snitch. Shit. Gualtierro’s eyes had narrowed imperceptibly on him.
“Nah, never heard of her.”
“Find her. I would very much like to speak with Señorita Franklin.”
“Will do.”
Cosima sat up in bed and pressed a hand to her racing heart, confused as she scanned her suite and found nothing amiss.
What had awakened her?
She tried to go back to sleep, but her instincts forced her from the bed. Cosima grabbed her robe and slipped it on and padded across the plush carpet to the door. Quietly she opened it and listened. Nothing. Barerra’s company, a Russian and two Spaniards, must have departed already. They were the primary reasons she’d retired early. One look and she knew they were cut from the same cloth as Barerra. Monsters with endless wealth and unlimited power, terrorizing those who were unable to defend themselves. Cosima took the stairs down to the second floor and went straight to Nico’s suite. A brief look confirmed that he was not there, and the bed was still made.
Had he even gone to bed? Where could he have gone?
Again, her instincts were pushing at her. Cosima looked at his closet door and gasped when a sharp pang of fear cramped her stomach. It strengthened the longer she stared at it, and she pressed a fist to her mouth. No. He wouldn’t have. After Enrique’s murder, Cosima ordered that her old master bedroom and the secret doors sealed off and forbad anyone to use them. She’d moved to the third floor and refused to share it with Barerra. Cosima was summoned to his quarters on the first floor whenever he felt like raping her.
As if in a trance, she crossed the room and entered the closet. Praying that she was wrong, she turned the light on and made her way to the back. Her heart froze at the sight of a wall panel where wood boards should have been. Cosima couldn’t stop herself. She pressed along the discreet seam, and it opened smoothly. She entered the humid, dank stairway and panicked as the door closed behind her. The hairs on her nape rose, and Cosima’s stomach dropped. Now, her instincts were screaming a different message.
Abort! Abort!
She ignored them and bravely ventured down. By the time she arrived at her old closet door, Cosima felt lightheaded. There was a commotion on the other side of the door. Worry for Nico pushed her toward it. She bent down and peered through the keyhole. Immediately she cringed at the horrific sight and shoved her face into her robe and emptied the contents of her stomach. Cosima crawled to the back of the closet so as not to be heard and only grew sicker.
Dear God.
How was this happening right underneath her nose?
She mustered the strength to return to the peephole. There were bright lights, but it was the three men on the bed speaking in different languages that centered Cosima’s attention. Her ears picked up on Russian and Spanish. The monsters. They were moving in a frenzy, like animals fighting over a piece of meat. The meat in this scenario was a girl with long, golden-brown hair and alabaster skin. She was beautiful and clearly under the influence. Her lovely turquoise orbs were vacant as the men pawed at her and violated her orifices. They were brutal as they slaked their needs, yet she was uncaring, displaying no fear or anger or any kind of emotion as they switched positions and egged each other on. It seemed to go on forever, and she never uttered a word as they urinated and ejaculated on her, covering her in their essence. Even through the peephole, the pong of sex and sweat assaulted Cosima.
Finally, they were done. Covering her face with her hands, she sank to her knees and wept into them.
“Cut! That’s a wrap!”
She jumped at the unexpected boom of her sweet Nico’s voice, then put two and two together. He’d filmed the vile act. Suddenly, a shot rang out and Cosima covered her mouth to suppress her scream. Fearing for her son’s safety, she returned to the peephole. The soiled white sheets were further stained now with the woman’s blood and brain matter. The Russian stood over her, naked, cognac bottle in one hand and a pistol still aimed at his victim in the other.
“What are you doing, asshole?!”
Nick charged the man, uncaring of the gun, and swung, connecting with the man’s mouth. The Russian wobbled then fell back on the bed. He lost the gun and bottle and the liquor spilled all over the bedsheets.
“Is part of contract,” he slurred in a thick Russian accent, swiping at his bloodied mouth with a crazy laugh. “I pay for whole experience. Check with your papa!”
Enraged, Nick hit and kicked him repeatedly until Benito eventually pulled him off.
Nick staggered back up the stairway with a heavy heart. His hand was swollen, and his knuckles cut off the Russian’s teeth. The pain wasn’t enough to distract him from the part he’d played in ruining and ultimately ending that girl’s life. Lorelai had better work fast. He had no idea how he was going to survive this sick ass shit if she didn’t. Upon entering his room, Nick didn’t even realize that he wasn’t alone until Cosima’s vicious slap jerked his head back. Instinctively, he sent his fist flying. He barely had time to catch it when he realized it was his mother standing before him, condemning him with eyes identical to his, a snarl of revulsion on her lips.
“How could you, Nico? You’re a monster!” she hissed. “You’re no better than him! Oomph!”
His hand covered her mouth and gripped her face so hard that Cosima was positive her flesh would be bruised. Their gazes clashed. She was stunned speechless by the violence that he’d directed toward her. Nico’s eyes were black with a fury hot enough to scorch her skin.
“Don’t you dare say that!” Nick seethed, blinking back unexpected tears. “I’m doing this for you! Because of you! I know that doesn’t make sense now, but I had to gain his trust without arousing suspicion. I’m going to remove my hand now. You need to keep quiet. Can you do that?”
Cosima gave a slight nod of understanding and he released her. She massaged her cheeks and eyeballed him warily. “What do you mean?! I don’t understand anything, Nico! Help me to!”
“We’re getting out of here soon for good. I know I’ve stayed away in the past because of him, but after New Year’s Eve,” Nick shivered, “never again! Before I left, he showed me the women stashed in the old schoolroom. They were being used as drug mules and sex slaves and he’s now decided to expand their duties and his business to porn for his business associates and thought it was the perfect area of expertise for his director nephew to sharpen his skills.”
Nick’s head bowed and this time he didn’t even try to stop the river running down his face.
“Tonight, with the gun…I wasn’t expecting that. What can I say, though? My hands are tied! If I object, you know he’d have them killed to spite me. I can’t win and I can’t lose control either! The only thing I can do is stay the course and hope this wraps up fast.”
“Freedom,” Cosima whispered, afraid to dare and hope for it.
Nick lifted his head and inclined his head, eyes glittering with undefined emotion. “It could be ours, once and for all. If we stay the course, okay?”
She hugged him, her tears soaking his neck. “I’m sorry I called you a monster, Nico. Forgive me! I was taken by surprise and shocked that you’d be involved in something that horrific. Oh, that poor, poor girl!”
When Cosima returned to her bedroom, only one thought consumed her. If her son was brave enough to try and remove Barerra from their lives once and for all, then she had to be as well.
“Hola.”
“It’s Raymundo.”
“I trust you have good news for me.” Gualtierro stared at the blade twirling idly in his hand.
“Not this time. Wynona Franklin is dead. Seems she was the victim of a burglary.”
He sheathed his knife with more than a twinge of disappointment. “What a pity. I was looking forward to chatting with her.”
“Tell me about the woman.”
“No habla ingles! Yo no sé!” the grandmotherly woman pleaded, wringing her hands anxiously. She gave him a beseeching look, tears welling in her eyes. “Por favor! Mis nietos-”
Marcus chuckled mirthlessly, his wintry eyes drilling into her. “Cut the shit, old lady! I know you speak English. Or at least well enough to understand me when I say that I don’t give a fuck about ending you or,” he pointed his Glock at the little girl sipping a bottle in his lap and then the boy playing with a toy car at his feet, “your grandbabies.”
Gracie’s tears miraculously dried up. “You understand Spanish!”
He shrugged casually. “I get by. Enough to know when motherfuckers are tryna run game on me. Here’s the deal. Give me what I want. If you don’t, I’ll kill these two and turn your books over to immigration, Gracie. I would threaten to burn this bitch down and break your arms and legs, too, but why bother when INS is going to bury you and every illegal you ever helped faster than quicksand. You’ll never be able to breathe again once you’re standing before a judge and he hands down that sentence.”
“No!” she breathed, horrified as Marcus waved the gun near her granddaughter’s head again. “If…If I tell you, I won’t have any more trouble?”
“You tell me and not say shit to anyone else and mum’s the motherfucking word as far as I’m concerned. Any shit that comes your way after I leave won’t be from me unless you lie…” Marcus warned softly, stroking the barrel of the gun against the baby’s temple. “Then I’ll blow their fucking brains all over you.”
“Aye Dios Mio!” Gracie cried, dropping to her knees and raising her clasped hands upward in prayer.
“He can’t help you now,” Marcus taunted with an affable grin that contradicted his soulless eyes. “Focus on me. I’m your God now. You wanna beg and plead? Do it with me, Gracie,” he crooned.
Conflicted, she fell at his feet, sobbing. Seeing her distress, the little boy also started crying. He tried to crawl to her, but Marcus scooped him up with his free arm. He cried harder, reaching for his abuelita who could only watch powerlessly. Bouncing him on his knee, over the noise, Marcus asked “What’s it going to be? I’m gonna have to shut him up. It’s up to you whether it’s forever or not, Gracie…”
“Belinda Speas! Tasha Young! Karen Greyson! Leslie Martin!” she screamed. “Those are the names on her passports. They’re issued for Florida, New York, California, and Delaware!’
“Write it all down for me.”
Gracie hesitated momentarily. Her grandson’s face was turning an alarming shade of red. She glared at the intruder, filled with loathing for him.
“Don’t worry about him. We’ll sit here like one big happy family while you do,” Marcus assured her with an easygoing grin. “How did she find you?”
“She was referred to me by a business associate,” she muttered, scribbling fast.
Once done, she thrust the requested information at him. “Here! I’ve given you everything you asked for! Take it and go!”
“Thank you for your time, Gracie,” Marcus mocked.
He set the little boy down on the floor carefully and took the paper and glanced at it. Satisfied with what he read, he pocketed the info and handed the baby over.
“Get out!” Gracie hissed, cradling her precious cargo. She motioned to the still-crying toddler, and he ran to her clumsily. “I hope you never find her!”
Marcus dropped the friendly act. “That woman ordered two depraved killers to kidnap my daughter. She left her fate in their hands. What you should be praying for is that she’s dead before I catch up to her. Because if she’s not, I plan on making her wish that she was. A thousand times over.”
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t aware of that,” Gracie replied. She was shocked to find compassion for him after what he’d put her through.
“Don’t be.” Marcus reached into his back pocket and extracted something. He held up his hand, revealing the cartridge for his Glock to her.
