Page 63 of King's Barber
He grinned. “Then we’re at a standoff,pendejo, because we’re not giving them over until we have your weapons, and we have a little conversation about your father.”
“If you’ve got beef with my father, then you take it up with him.” I pointed my finger in his direction, anger fueling every word from my tongue. “Because that fucking prick has nothing to do with me. I stopped talking to him a long time ago.”
“That’s not our concern.” He waved his hand behind him, toward a hallway and a door at the end of it. “Give up your guns and knives and let’s talk.Sí?”
“See what?” I glared at him when he cocked his head in confusion. “I’m not seeing jack shit.”
“No,síis Spanish,hermano.” His laughter grated on my nerves. “It means yes.”
“I fucking know that.” I bared my teeth at him because while technically I did know whatsímeant, I hadn’t realized what he was saying. “Why don’t you choose to fully speak English, huh? Why mix up two damn languages. Stick to one or the other.”
The man raised his eyebrows and waved his hand, like this was a waste of his time. “I’m not getting into bilingualism with you, Mr. Booth. You have two choices: give them up and talk so you can get your uncle and cousin back, or don’t and watch them die.”
Fury stole my voice. If I said anything more I’d end up regretting what came out of my mouth. I reached in to grab my gun. The guys beside me pointed their Berettas at me, and I huffed, raising my spare palm to show I wasn’t going to be stupid enough to shoot them. I passed them the Ruger.
“Happy?” I snarled.
“Sí.Yes. Come.” He turned on his heel and went into the room behind him, and the guys at my back shoved me.
I stumbled forward and let them push me into a rundown kitchen with groaning floorboards and battered walls. Cobwebs filled the corners of the ceiling, some expanding out onto the flat planes, and spiders crept across them. There was a set of chairs and a table in the center of the room, but it looked cheap and new, as though my friendly neighborhood Mexicans had recently bought them from a junk shop or second-hand store.
The leader was already sitting in one of the wooden chairs, and he gestured to another in front of him. “Sit.”
I gritted my teeth together and fell into the chair opposite him. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Do you know how much trouble your father is giving us? He’s taking down very important players for our cartel and my boss isn’t happy.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “No feliz en absoluto.”
“English,” I snapped. “I can’t speak much Spanish.”
“Your father can.” He grinned like he knew exactly what to say to piss me off, and it worked. As far as Father was concerned, he was better at everything than me, and I was nothing more than a disappointment. “I said ‘not happy at all.’ ”
“And I don’t care. I told you that I had nothing to do with my father. You think killing me will make him suffer? It won’t. He’s always cared more about his fucking job than his family. It’s why I left when I was a teenager.”
“Aw, how sad.” His grin widened and he would have been hot if he wasn’t such a douche. He had the warm brown eyes and bronze skin I always found beautiful, although I no longer thought anyone could be on Quain’s level of attractiveness. Not even being angry at him for his lies changed my mind about that. Quain was out-of-this-world gorgeous. “I don’t care, and neither does my boss.” He crossed a leg over his knee and leaned his elbow on the table. His black suit moved with him, and it looked like one of those custom-made expensive jackets, not that I would know. I hadn’t owned a suit since I left LA. “The fact that he sent someone to protect you says otherwise.”
“Quain? You’re talking about him, right?” I snorted and eyed the gun on one of the other Mexican’s hip. I could reach over there without someone shooting me first. “That you’re more scared of him than me tells me you’ve got no brains. I can do more damage.”
The leader’s smile slid off his face and he glanced at one of the other men with wide eyes. They spoke in Spanish, fast, and all I could do was watch in confusion. I didn’t understand a single word, even with my basic knowledge. The two other men fled the room while the leader finally turned back to me and stood. “Quain? As in Quain Beaumont?”
I frowned at him. “Yeah?”
He pursed his lips. “He’s an assassin. Why would he be protecting you?”
For the first time I felt like I had some control in this situation, and I had Quain to thank for that. I leaned back in my chair and gave him a smug smile of my own. “We go way back.”
A familiar shout of anger had my muscles tightening, and I glanced toward the door where the Mexicans were dragging in my cousin and uncle. I stood fast and clenched my jaw. Sophie stopped struggling when she saw me and relief slid over her face, making my chest ache. I shouldn’t have let this happen in the first place. Uncle Errol smiled at me, his cheek bruised and swollen, and his lip cut and stained with dried blood. I was relieved to see while Sophie had a small cut to her chin, she didn’t have any other physical signs of being beaten.
“Let them go,” I hissed toward the leader.
“Juan.” One of the Mexicans stared at the leader and spoke in Spanish again. At least I had a name now. I stepped forward, but Sophie was dragged away from me. She let out a scream, and I narrowed my eyes on the fucker holding her. I couldn’t attack him, not while she and Errol were still being held. That would guarantee them being shot.
“Listen.” I spun toward Juan. “You can still walk away from this. All you have to do is let my family go, and I’ll let you walk out of here alive.”
The man who’d called Juan’s name laughed. “What have you got on us, huh?” He moved closer to me, but Juan grabbed his arm, yanking him back.
“Pedro.” Juan’s voice dropped in warning before he returned his attention to me. “How friendly are you with Quain?”
“Friendly—” I didn’t get to finish my sentence. The sound of shattering glass deafened me and I ducked instinctively—so did the other two men—but for Juan it was too late. Blood splattered across my arms covering my head, and pieces of brain decorated the dirty wooden floor. Juan’s body dropped, and it took a long, drawn-out moment of every single one of us staring at the body before the other two guys realized what was happening.
