Roughly, he scratched at his hair with both hands. “I'm just pissed, how did this happen? All these years, and we mess up on the final hit? This girl actually sees me do it?”
My fingers clicked on the keyboard. “Doesn't matter how it happened. It matters that it did. Right now, as long as she has this letter—if it exists—she's got us by the balls. Even if it isn't real, everyone saw her walk into our bar. They saw you talk to her, saw you take her to the backroom. This can't be solved tonight.”
“So what do we do?” Kite asked, moving back to my side. “Torture her until she tells us where the damn thing is, or who has it?”
Torture. That wasn't something we commonly indulged in. A few times, when we were bouncers, we'd been tipped extra to get a little 'rough' with some customers the owner didn't like.
“No. What if we go too far before she talks? We don't know how long before someone reports her missing. What we need is more details about our new friend.” Spinning the screen, I showed him what I was doing.
The website listed a newspaper headline in giant, bold letters: Fidel family massacre. Only one survivor.
Kite gawked at me. “Wait,” he said. “No way, is this her family? How did you know her last name?”
“I looked at her ID when I was digging in her purse. Marina Fidel, it's her alright.”
Together, we leaned in to read the article. It was a brutal story, and though they never said Marina's name, we could figure the pieces out.
A mother, a father, and a daughter only nine years old. All of them, executed in their home. There was evidence of rape, and the time of death showed the father died last. No leads on the suspects, and the only connection was the Fidel family business being burned to the ground the same night.
One survivor. It didn't list how she managed to get out alive, just that she existed.
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. “Now we know we don't have to worry about any immediate family.”
“I get why she wants revenge,” Kite said softly. Shaking himself, he turned away from the screen. “It says this happened sixteen years ago. She had to have been a child. To hold a grudge this long... Frank Montego, he was really involved in this?”
“If what she said was true, yes. Him, and this mystery man she wants to have the honor of killing.”
Kite rubbed the bridge of his nose furiously. “Ugh. That's the part that won't work. If we did take this on, I think we could find her guy eventually. If he worked with someone to kill the Fidels, someone else has to know. There's a trail the cops didn't find—or chose not to. We get his name, then killing the bastard ourselves would be a cinch.”
Kite was always so confident. I could see the gears in his head turning, the familiarity and intoxicating lure of planning and executing a hit. I didn't want him getting ideas. “It doesn't matter. What we need is time so we can fix everything.”
“Fix it how?” He lifted himself onto the desk, perching there. “I can't believe her. I thought she was some sweet, eager little thing ready to have a good time.”
My smile was crooked. “You still think she's into you?”
His eyes flashed. “Doesn't matter how into me she is or isn't. I don't like being blackmailed. And I don't like that you got dragged into this.”
It didn't matter what he said. I knew he wanted Marina. How could I blame him? She was gorgeous, and she had a softness to her I was also eager to explore.
Clapping my hand onto his shoulder, I chuckled. “I was in this from the start.”
My friend—my Blood Brother—gave my fingers a quick squeeze. “Our oath, I know. We're supposed to protect each other. So how do we protect ourselves from this mess?”
“First, we'll do what I said. We'll take her money.” Standing, I towered over him. “If we stay close to Marina, we can find out where she hid the letter, or who might know about it. Hopefully, no one else. Once we get it, we won't have to worry about her anymore.”
Crossing his ankles, Kite peered up at me thoughtfully. “You want us to entertain her for as long as we need to... then we just kill her?”
I lifted my pistol free and checked the safety. “Yes. And then we kill her.”
Protecting our future was what mattered.
Marina Fidel had no idea who she was dealing with.
****
She was reclining in a booth when we walked in. Her back was arched, forcing her chest high—drawing my eye to her curves helplessly. If I was a weaker man, I would have frozen on the spot.
But I'm better than that.
Sitting up sharply, Marina smoothed her skirt and crossed to meet us. “What did you decide?” she asked excitedly.
Reaching out, I opened my palm. “We're compassionate people. Fifteen grand, and we'll help you find this man.”
Marina peeked over my shoulder. I knew she was eyeing Kite. “No. That's not enough.”
“Not enough?” Kite stammered.