Page 72 of Corrupt
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“WHERE ARE YOU?” I hiss out, holding my phone in a tight grip while those in the room watch me. I’m standing with my back to them, not giving a single fuck about what they think while calling my little flower’s guard. “Is she safe?”
“We’re on our way out of Bogota and toward your home, Patron.” I can make out Solimar’s voice in the background, but there’s a secondary female tone that catches my attention. “No one saw us leave.”
“Who else?” There’s no need for me to elaborate; I know more than Carlos would like. I’m well aware of where his loyalties lay and why.
There’s a small pause and those around him grow quiet. “Mother and son.”
“Those were not the instructions I gave you.”
“And I take full responsibility.”
“I respect that.” Accepting the glass my brother offers with a few fingers’ worth of rum, I take a few small sips. “It was a smart move and I’m glad you did for Solimar’s sake, but next time ask before you react. In the future, I’d hate to have to put a bullet between your eyes.”
“Si, Patron.”
I disconnect the call and turn once again to face the room. My brother and his wife, Daniel, and my mother along with Chiquito’s family are here. His two military buddies are tied up, and his younger brother is a bloody mess on the floor of a large warehouse Emiliano owns.
Then, I have his bruised wife. She was found by her cousin and a few of my men, bound and beaten after being left for dead a few miles from their home. Salazar is missing and so is my sister. Salazar is missing and his wife is deathly afraid of her own shadow after being abused by the man who swore before God to love and protect her.
Closing my eyes, I try to regain even a small semblance of rationality. I’m past angry. I’m past the stage of rage. This is a territory I’ve never ventured into, but welcome.
I keep trying to understand why Lourdes would do something like this. How did it get past the security I keep around them and the many employees that help run the house, and after searching for a bit, I noticed a discrepancy. Each time Salazar came for her, a friend would pick her up and then drop Lourdes off after her date, while he waited at a nearby restaurant. The owner confirmed as much.
Then, you have my sister’s manipulative abuse of that same friend with a nasty cocaine habit and the willingness to do anything for a hit. Lourdes used her, something out her natural character, and I’ve made it so she gets the helps she needs. She’s been shipped to a convent and will spend some time there getting clean and finding her faith.
My sister purposely hid this from me. Everyone.
My sister slept with a married man, not caring about who she’d hurt in the process.
And while I’m still furious, that anger has ebbed a bit after listening to the recording the day she disappeared. My fury, which has been unleashed on everyone that’s had a small role in helping her hide this, has simmered into a manageable state where I think before pulling the trigger.
She threatened him with me, and he forced her to leave in fear of retaliation…
My wrath, or that of Quintero.
Salazar has made a mess of things and the clock is ticking—unforgiving.
My eyes shift across the room and land on the two men bound with their hands up and in an “X” position. They stand on the tip of their toes, and with each shift of their weight to alleviate pressure on their joints, the handcuffs clang against the metal bars.
I walk forward after passing my brother the offered drink without a word and flick open a small pocketknife. The blade is small in comparison to my other toys but is as sharp as a scalpel, and when I stop in front of the older of the two and lift his chin, his eyes widen.
His fear is palpable.
His urine stains the floor below.
“Do you remember now?”
“Patron, this is a mistake. We’d never do anything against your family.” Not once does he meet my eyes. Instead, they remain on the blade as I bring it closer to his chin. The cold steel makes him flinch on contact, and a pathetic whimper passes through his lips. “Chiquito—”
“Has a lot to explain, but at the moment, I want to hear from you. Jimmy, where is she?” He’s trembling, sweat rolling down the side of his face, but get no reply. “I won’t ask again. Where is my sister?”
Closing my eyes, I begin to count. At the five mark, my hand shoots out and the blade embeds itself deep into his right side. Two more seconds and I twist, enjoying the way his flesh tears and blood pours from the wound.
“Please stop,” Salazar’s brother says low from the floor, body writhing in pain. “We don’t know where they are.”
“So Lourdes is with him.” Not a question as we both know the truth. I have video surveillance from my mother’s home the night he took her. It’s clear as day. Undeniable. “Where?”