Page 58 of His Queen

“We don’t know,” comes a shaky voice from behind me. Maximo has the bastard pinned face-first onto the floor, his boot planted on the man’s back. “We don’t know where she is.”

I narrow my eyes, stalking closer to him. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Nunzio doesn’t tell us anything. We’re just the guys who take care of his club.”

“You mean the guys who make sure drugs are handed out like candy in this place.”

The fucker doesn’t respond, which means I have no use for him anymore.

I aim.

I squeeze the trigger.

The fucker dies.

Maximo steps away from the lifeless body, his face smeared with blood. A sudden scuffle sounds from behind the bar, glasses falling and shattering.

Maximo sprints in that direction, leaping over the blue-lit bar counter. “Motherfucker, look who we have here.”

He jerks the fucker upright, and I swear the asshole looks familiar.

“It’s the florist,” Maximo says, clearing up the mystery. “He was trying to crawl his way out of here. Coward.” He spits in the asshole’s face before slamming him onto the counter, wiping it clear of all the glasses and ashtrays with the man’s face, bottles of alcohol exploding as they land on the floor.

I’m there in a nanosecond, and I grab him behind the neck, jerking him backward before crashing his face against the mirrored pillar at the end of the bar.

Mirror pieces crack and explode, his blood clinging to the sharp edges. “Where is she?” I growl.

“I don’t kno—”

“Wrong answer.” I hit his motherfucking face against the pillar again, only this time the flesh of his forehead tears as it hooks on the sharp-edged cracked mirror.

He howls in pain. “I don’t kno—”

His head gets smashed again, blood and saliva dripping from his mouth.

“You took her out of that hotel?” I twist the fucker’s hair until his neck is pulled in an awkward, painful angle.

“I don’t know where they took her. Jesus.”

“Jesus can’t help you, motherfucker.”

I crash his head one last time before letting him drop to the ground, my foot burying into his gut so hard he coughs out blood.

“Tell me where she is, and I’ll kill you quickly,” I spit out, crushing his ribs beneath my boot.

“I… I don’t know, man. My job was to lead her to the back. I have no idea where they took her after they pulled her into that van.”

“Where is he planning on having this hunting game of his?”

“What? What hunting game?”

“You telling me you have no idea that your boss hosts these fucked-up primal parties where sickos like him hunt girls like animals?”

“No.” He shakes his head, but I’m not sure if it’s on purpose or if he’s just pissing himself with fear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t believe him,” Maximo says.

“Neither do I.”

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