Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Just to err on the safe side, I walked over there to recheck his restraints. He stiffened and glared up at me.
The rope had cinched in some places and was digging into his chest. Using the flashlight on my phone, I could see that the handcuffs had done a number on him too. His wrists were red and irritated.
I walked back to the bed and folded my blanket on my lap so I could put the skillet on top. “This was my favorite pasta growing up,” I mentioned. “I’d come home from school and ask Mom to make me butterfly pasta with ketchup.”
Delgado muttered something under his breath.
“What was that?” I cupped my ear.
“It’s called farfalle,” he bit out.
I shrugged. “I don’t give a farfalle fuck to be honest.”
What I did care about was his pronunciation. He’d said it all Italian-like. Did he know the language? Did he have a reason to? The Blanco Family had roots in both Colombia and Sicily, so it was interesting to me.
We did have theories, after all, about how high up in the cartel Delgado had dealings.
“Fuck me, this is good.” I spoke with my mouth full. “If you teach me some more Italian pasta names—you know, with that arrogant tone in your voice—maybe I’ll show you what I can do with my farfalle knife later.”
I grinned. I was gonna tell that joke to everyone when this was over.
Ryan and Dad would get a laugh. Mav and Uncle Greer too.
Delgado didn’t find it funny. He must not have a sense of humor.
“I’m a federal agent.”
Forget what I said. He was fucking hilarious.
I felt my shoulders shake with laughter as I shoveled more food into my mouth.
“You don’t believe me,” he stated. “I knew you wouldn’t.”
I licked tomato sauce from the corner of my mouth and stared at him. He was a good actor, I’d give him that. He gave off a vibe that screamed frustration and reluctance to share what he’d just said. He was lookin’ a bit defeated too, like he was running out of options.
“My real name is Adrien Mercier,” he said.
“Uh-huh,” I chuckled. “That really explains why you’re buying children in third-world countries—you’re just recruiting for the Feds.”
Hell, that actually caused a reaction. His shock was clear as day, before his standard, calculating stare was fixed in place once more. “You just gave away something very important, Dennis.”
“Oh yeah?” I was all ears. I couldn’t wait to hear what bullshit would fly out next.
“The list of people who could have enough access to make that accusation about me is extremely short,” he told me. “Are you based in DC? You’re clearly a New Yorker. Whatever source you have is way out of your league.”
I stopped eating and tilted my head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I have no idea what you and your little friend are up to with your save-the-planet bullshit, but the one providing you with intel is at the top of their game.” He paused briefly, never taking his gaze off me. “I’m gonna ask three simple questions. I beg you to answer sincerely.”
My walls slammed up, and I sat straighter on the bed. Oh, he was good. He was fucking with me. He was trying to get inside my head.
“Is your source based in the US? Do you trust them? How much are you paying them?”
I furrowed my brow. It would be easy to answer, but I didn’t understand what conclusions he could draw from whatever I told him. Yeah, Squeezy was based in the US—so what? Was Delgado trying to rule out outside players? Like, enemies of his? Russians? The Chinese? And yeah, I trusted her because I trusted Darius and Ryan, two men who had been there to save my life last year, and they were Squeezy’s brothers. I didn’t even know her real name, and I would tell her anything.
“What can you tell from my answers?” I asked in return.
“I can determine whether I should give you more information.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, hesitating. I wasn’t gonna tell him shit—that much was clear—but what if I made something up? I needed to know what he had to say.
At the same time, I couldn’t say anything that might expose Squeezy. I didn’t know if Delgado was bullshitting or not, but it was highly possible Squeezy was part of a very small club of people.
I decided to answer only one question, and if he didn’t give me something in return, I was getting my gun.
“They’re not getting paid at all.” Technically true. Nobody was getting paid for this rescue mission—but…Elliott and Darius had been fairly open in the chat about how they never shied away from trying to cover their expenses. Whether they used dirty money for good or…whatever.
We weren’t made of money, and just because we took time off work didn’t mean my landlord would stop asking for rent.