“Just spit it out, bro.” Antonio finished off the bourbon and got up and poured three fingers into his snifter—he could already tell he was going to need it. He was pleased his gut was still leading him in the right direction. Any boss needed that to keep things running smoothly. He wasn’t pleased Mano was hem-hawing around about what the real issue was. He did understand any of his men who had a fucking brain were scared shitless of him—so it was as it should be in Antonio Wayne’s world.
“Page got kidnapped.”
“Mm, hmm, and…”
Mano resisted the urge to feverously rub his hands through his hair. These fucking brothers were crazy. One day it was ‘all good,’ and the next, they were blowing up houses and cutting off body parts with Colombian truth serum—an electric saw.
“Look, Antonio, I have no idea, but if I had to guess, I’d say she made herself available to be kidnapped.” There. It was out.
Antonio smiled, and though Mano had no idea what he was thinking, Antonio was intrigued by the fact Mano was dealing with a crazy bitch. This woman might be beneficial to the cartel with all her lunacy. Mano had his hands full, no doubt. Ironic. Mano was dealing with a woman who had a voice. Howbeit ‘that voice’ better not say anything about him.
“And why would she make herself available to a madman who is killing fixers?” Antonio was going to draw this shit out; make Mano squirm. It was the ultimate mindfuck to ensure he scared the shit out of Mano. Any good boss knew you had to put your people in a predicament that forced them to be in a situation where they needed the boss of the cartel. The number one rule of any cartel boss was: using situations to make people loyal to you.
“So…” Antonio smiled, “Your woman has been kidnapped by El Loco—by choice. Why would she do something like that, Mano?”
“To prove herself to us,” he answered without hesitation.
“It amazes me how this is always the mentality of a novice—to prove themselves. To you? To me? To the world? To God? I just don’t know. What I do know is I can’t let this go. She wants to prove herself…now she has to.”
“I’ve got a tracker on her. I’m going after her tonight.”
“You’re not going alone, Mano, and you’re waiting until tomorrow night. Make him suffer lest he forget. Hard lessons learned stayed with a man throughout his lifetime. “I’ll send some boys with you. You know what needs to be done. I want this shit taken care of—permanently.”
“Bounce is wanting to do a job with me, Antonio.”
“I’ll send him and El Demente’.”
Mano wasn’t surprised when Antonio hung up. He’d said all he needed to. True to his nature Antonio was a man of few words. Now all there was to do was wait for the men to arrive and go get his woman. He knew Antonio was purposely making him sweat the next twenty-four hours. Antonio was a sadist by nature, and it went far beyond anything physical. The torment of emotional and psychological sadism was something that would stay with Mano for the rest of his life, and Antonio knew that. True lessons were not only learned but remembered, so mistakes weren’t repeated. It was going to be a very long night.
Barefooted, in nothing but jeans he had unbuttoned at the top, Mano padded over to the refrigerator and grabbed a Cervesa. He sat down at Page’s computer and began reading her personal writings. It was a way to be close to her until she was in his arms again.
As he read, he found himself pulled into a world he had no idea she lived in. It was a place in her head that only she inhabited. Her writing was like water gently flowing over him, until the waves carried him away, and the current held him captive.
The Narcos should be grateful it was Page writing their story and not some fucker in the government behind a desk who didn’t care about the heart of Colombia’s matters. At the beginning hating her had been easy; pursuing her had been instinct. Destroying her had been a necessity, but now loving her would be the hardest thing he’d ever done.
Chapter Thirty Five
Page opened her eyes when she felt the presence of evil seeping through her drug-induced sleep. His voice was like the devil: sweet, soothing, and full of deceit. He was saying one thing, but the message was clear, she would do things his way or suffer the consequences. She pulled the little orange ball of fur in close as if she could protect him from the menacing lies of El Loco.
The man who was her enemy stood beside her bed. He held her phone between two fingers, swinging it gently back and forth. He smiled at her as if they were friends.
“It’s all about trust, Page.”
Her heart sank when he slipped the phone into his jean pocket and continued talking.
“I’m going to assume you weren’t trying to deceive me. I’ve taken the battery out in case your boyfriend is attempting to track you. I’ve given you a nice place to stay. I’ve not attempted touching you against your will. I’ve even given you a computer so you can write my story. The world needs to know I’m not a bad man. If everyone else gets a story, then why shouldn’t I?”
Page looked at him in disbelief. “You’re a fucking serial killer.”
“No, no, no, there are secrets about Sicarios and Colombia the world doesn’t need to know. I’m doing the cartel a favor.” You’re welcome, fuckers. “You are going to write my story—my version of the truth. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt because I believe you care about the families you write about. You need more direction in your blog. If you do as I ask, I’ll make sure all your needs are met.”
Before she could stop him, he picked up the only friend she had in the prison he’d set up for her. The little orange ball of fur squirmed in his arms, an attempt to get away. Mickey could sense the man was evil, and he wanted the woman he knew would keep him safe.
“You’re holding him too tightly.” She tried not to sound panicked. “Please give him back. I’ll do what you want.”
Loco’s eyes were cold, black, and empty as he held the cat by the scruff of his neck in mid-air. He swung it back and forth, entertained by the way his little orange legs kicked wildly through the air. “If you don’t do as I ask, I’ll kill him.” He roughly tossed the cat back onto the bed, and she pulled him in close to her body and soothed him.
She watched in horror as he pulled a syringe from his pocket and showed it to her. “Do you know what this is?” He continued speaking, giving her no time to answer his rhetorical question. “It’s succinylcholine. It’s a muscle relaxant they use in surgery.”
His nefarious smile sent a mixture of fear, anger, and disgust through her.
“You can’t move, but you can still feel pain, and you’re aware of everything going on around you. Can you imagine what it would be like to watch me kill your little pet—you couldn’t move to save him.” The sneer on his face said more than his words because it held the truth of just how evil he was.
“I’ll write your story.” Her voice was monotone, and her look was deadpan.
“See…Like I said: it’s all about trust. Communication is part of trust. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Mickey pulled in close to her body when the man reached down and scratched his head. When Page reached up and pushed him away, he never felt her hand slip into the pocket of the hoodie he was wearing. She resisted the urge to groan in frustration when he pulled away from her before she could get the syringe. It was the first time in her life she knew she would have to kill a man. She wondered if she’d be able to do it when the time came. Thinking about his cruelty to animals would make it much easier.