Page 67 of The Madman and his broken Princess
“Do you think they’ll save the boy for you?” He cackled.
I raised my brows. “I’m not a ringmaster, Achille. I only let nature run its course.”
His puzzlement quickly morphed to realization. “You’re going to let the chimps kill him? They’ll kill the boy, too.”
“No, they won’t. I’ll protect him.”
“You think you’re a hero, Nestore? What you truly are shows down here. You’re a beast, a monster.”
I reached for the lock, noting Achille’s violent flinching. A wave of grim satisfaction ripped through me.
I turned on my heel. I didn’t have time to torture him. If I stayed, I’d lose myself in the rage like I so often did. His terror had to be enough for today.
Niccolo, Sasha, and I sat in the front of the truck that pulled the transporter with the knocked-out chimps. Niccolo drummed a nervous rhythm on his legs and kept throwing wary glances backward as if he thought the chimps would spring on us any moment.
“They can’t break through the transporter,” I said. I was calm, my pulse beating steadily.
Niccolo scoffed. “That’s why we’re stupid enough to release them later.”
I shrugged. Sasha, too, looked a little ashen. Maybe death simply didn’t scare me enough. Even the prospect of being torn to shreds by one of the chimps hardly made my heart race. The Port of Los Angeles buzzed with activity even at this time of the night. The other terminals were brightly illuminated as massive cranes loaded and unloaded container ships that towered several stories over us. Workers in orange vests hurried along as crew members of the container ships took a smoke on board. Honks from arriving ships filled the night.
Containers were stacked up on our left as we headed straight for Terminal 24, which had been closed for construction for three weeks. As expected, only a couple of lights illuminated the waterfront, but the area near the warehouses lay in the dark. Thebustle from the other terminals was gone. Nobody worked here until the construction crews returned in the morning.
Sasha pulled up the truck beside the warehouse, then shut off the engine. It was five minutes before midnight. There was no sign of Corvin yet.
A scratching noise in the back made Sasha and Niccolo tense. We listened for further sounds, but silence reigned in the transporter. With wild animals, using sedatives was always a risk. We’d learned that the hard way when we’d moved the chimps to their new enclosure. The adrenaline spike in the male chimp had turned him into a raging wrecking ball out for blood for nearly an hour.
“Are you sure they’re knocked out for twenty more minutes?” Niccolo asked doubtfully.
Sasha ran a hand over his blond stubble, a dark frown pulling his brows down. He was half Russian, half Italian, but had been a loyal asset since I’d become Underboss. “It should work, but these chimps are unpredictable.”
Niccolo scoffed and shoved his fingers into his curly hair. “Fuck.”
I scanned the area for signs of another car. Time trickled by, and when we reached five minutes past midnight, the nervous energy in our truck was almost palpable. My own calm slowly disappeared. It wasn’t replaced by nerves or anxiety, only by rage over being made to wait.
“What if they don’t come?” Niccolo asked.
“They’ll come. They want to show us they’re the boss because we pissed them off by choosing the meeting place.”
“Fuck, I hope you’re right.”
Headlights illuminated the warehouse when a black limousine turned the corner and parked with its headlights facing our way, but at least one hundred yards away.
“Showtime,” I said as I pushed open the door and got out without hesitation. I turned toward the other car and opened my fur coat so they could see I didn’t carry any weapons.
“Pull up your legs!” someone shouted as the door opened.
I bent down and lifted my pants legs. I didn’t have any weapons on me, having expected this, and I wouldn’t need them. I’d kill them with my bare hands and teeth if I had to, but I counted on the chimps to do the job for me. Behind me, Niccolo got out of the car, probably to watch my back.
“Where’s my uncle?” Corvin shouted, still half hidden behind the door of the car. I hadn’t seen him since my fifteenth birthday party, and time hadn’t done him any favors. He was half bald and, from what I could see, not in the shape of his life.
I tossed my head back. “In the transporter. Where’s the boy?”
Corvin motioned to someone in the car, and another older man got out, holding a small child by a leash attached to a collar around the child’s throat. The kid stared unblinkingly ahead, in shock. What had these assholes done to him? From a distance, it was difficult to make out if he bore any resemblance to Achille or Flavia. I wouldn’t put it past Corvin to use another boy to trick me.
Their punishment would be worthy of their crime.
Corvin motioned at the area between our cars. “Bring my uncle forward. We’ll meet in the middle and do the exchange. I won’t go near that transporter. I don’t trust you, crazy bastard.”
