Page 129 of Kings Fear No One
“I owe the Steel Kings no loyalty. Our arrangement was business only.”
“Maybe. But you knew we’d never do business with you if we knew the truth. You didn’t want us knowing who else you entertain.” I fold my arms behind my head and lean back in my chair. “Can’t say I blame you, all things considered. You’re about your money and your standing. Fuck everybody else.”
Miguel narrows his eyes. “Where is this going?”
“Sit down and find out,” I urge. “I’m sure you’re aware our business partnership is over. Trying to kidnap and then initiate my wife into your gang will do that. But I’ve got a final proposition for you that’ll work in your favor.”
Distrust encircles the air between us. Miguel scratches his chin as he thinks on what I’ve said. His poker face needs some work; I see straight through him. He’s interested, even if he wants to play hard to get.
Fine with me. I can work with that.
Slowly, he lowers himself back into his seat across from me. Taking a sip from his glass of tequila, he says, “Apresúrate. Dime.”
“You know the whereabouts of the Chosen Saints,” I say, then quickly add, “Don’t tell me you don’t. I already know you do. I already know you’ve been doing their bidding. Matter of fact, I’m pretty damn sure you’ve been the ones taking people captive then selling them off. That correct?”
Miguel’s lips pull back for a dark smile. “We work for who pays us. You know our policy.”
“That’s a yes. Fair enough. Well, consider this your latest payment. Not monetary. Something more beneficial. If you give up their location.”
“Our interest is money only?—”
“You’ll want this information,” I interrupt. “Important info for your survival.”
“How do I know this is real? How do I know I can trust this info?”
“You’re just gonna have to take a chance. Just like I’m gonna have to take a chance you’ll give me their accurate location.”
He polishes off his tequila, then slams down his empty glass. “Dime.”
“We had a visit by some federal agents not very long ago. Your name came up.”
“Federal agents? FBI?” he repeats. His disdain flashes in and out of his expression before he can catch himself. “What did they say? What do they know?”
“Gimme the location of Abraham and the Chosen Saints, and I’ll share.”
Miguel bares his teeth at me. The disdain returns, filling out his features, except it’s for me this time. He reaches for the bottle of tequila to pour himself another serving. The liquor trickles into the empty glass drop by drop as if it’s its own timer.
“Alright,” he says after the long pause, “that I can give you.”
I emerge from Zapote an hour later with no blood or bullet holes in me, armed with more knowledge than when I came in. A successful mission as far as I’m concerned.
Miguel gave up the location of Abraham’s latest hiding spot. He’s been operating out of an abandoned church in Boulder of all places.
Which means he’s been closer than any of us realized.
No wonder he’s been able to pull off what he has. He’s practically been hiding in plain sight.
I take a quick second to text Mace and the others about what I’ve discovered.
My Super Glide launches out of the Zapote parking lot. I hit the highway on my ride back, nothing but me and the miles ahead. Plenty of time to mull over what I want to do and where I want to go from here.
I could return to Pulsboro so we can begin plotting the next steps in our revenge against the Saints.
The other option would be to pursue the lead I’ve got on the spot. Go straight to Boulder and scope out the compound Abraham is operating out of.
The reckless, hotheaded side of me demands the latter. Every minute counts, and I’m done biding time. I’m done being on the defensive when I should be on offense. I should be making Abraham regret the day he took me captive. He should be groveling, sniveling, begging for fucking mercy as I deny him any decency.
The same way he’d done to me and others countless times. The same way he’d done to Teysha.
