Risqué by Elena M. Reyes
34
Ninety days. Three months.
That’s how long my Venus has been missing, and no one can find a single trace of Aliana. It’s as if the ground has swallowed her, hiding all remnants of her existence, and those around me are paying for the volatile ramifications of my failure. Because this is on me.
She was in my city. My motherfucking country.
Then, there’s the disappearance of her guard, brothers, and the rest of that sack-of-shit family. I should’ve killed them all, even if it meant she’d be angry at me. That’s where I dodged up. I take full responsibility for not chopping the head off the snake before burning the nest with the other members inside.
“Callum, I think I found something. Or better yet—someone,” Ezra says from the other side of my office inside the pub. He’s been here since she was taken, working tirelessly to find her, but all leads so far have been dead ends. “This is Jorge Rubens, is it not?”
My eyes shift to the man on the screen and sure enough, that’s one of the arseholes. I’m just missing Rubens, Martin, and Gaspar. “Where is he?”
Before Ezra can answer, Giannis comes to stand beside me. I look over and find his eyes narrowed and lips in a thin line. “I know exactly where he is.”
“You do?”
“Yup.” His head tilts, studying the screen. “That’s their grandmother’s home in Fornells. That son of a bitch has been in Spain this whole time.” He’s angry. Has been furious since she disappeared. And I understand him. I feel the same gnawing guilt.
This sense of responsibility because she was there to pick up a drink for me before we could meet up with him. The three wanted to visit some shops in the area and I volunteered to accompany them, be the added protection because a repeat of what happened to my aunt isn’t something I can live with.
And yet, to me this is worse.
I don’t know how she is.
If she’s hurt.
“How soon can we be there?” Kray pushes off the wall. He’s kept a solid grip on his emotions for now, but I do pity the bloke that receives the brunt of it once he unleashes.
“In two hours.” Ezra moves the mouse, clicking on another webpage. This one is a database; he’s running Aliana’s picture through it. “I’ll have everything ready to go and will call you with any news.”
“Thanks, mate.” I give his shoulder a squeeze and look at the others. Archie, Kray, Dwayne, and Giannis await my orders. “You have five minutes to grab whatever you need; the vault is open.”
Fornells is beautiful,a quaint village in a bay north of the Balearic Island of Menorca, Spain. The population is small. Everyone knows everyone. And this couldn’t be more apparent when we disembark the boat chartered to bring us over.
The locals stare.
They murmur.
Yet, it’s a small boy no older than eleven that approaches when we make it to the village center. He’s sweaty and is missing a few teeth, but I appreciate his bravado. “Are you here to take the idiot home?”
The others laugh at his description of who I’m certain is Jorge Rubens.
“That depends on the idiota?” I ask, and his eyes narrow. Behind him, a worried man—by resemblance, I deduce he’s the father—walks over.
“Forgive my son. Lino can be too outspoken at times.”
“Nothing to forgive. The bloke he’s referring to is a pest.” At my words, his shoulders relax a bit. “Now, can you please point us in his direction. We need to clean him up and get him home. His mother is worried sick.”
“Of course.” He’s not buying it, and he’s a smart man for doing so. “I’ll take you to my family’s small bar.”
“Gracias.”
“De nada. Just take him and don’t let him come back,” the boy interjects, and I laugh for the first time in months.
“You’re something else, kid.”
“That’s what my mama says, too.” Lino begins to walk toward a small building not far from where we stand, but before he steps inside, he motions for us to follow.
No one else in town says anything. They watch us. Untrusting.
“Keep your eyes open, and any member of the family is to be taken in.”
“Yes, sir,” all four answer, voice low. If Lino’s father heard my instructions, he pretends otherwise, and we walk inside the establishment to find quite a scene.
Jorge Rubens is here and drunk off his arse.
He’s stumbling, trying to find rhythm in a flamenco beat playing in the background and doing a piss poor job. There are bottles occupying three of the eight tables inside, all empty and some broken from being slammed down too hard. Then, there’s what looks to be vomit on the floor in various spots.
It’s a disgusting sight.
“Hello, Jorge.” At the sound of my voice, he freezes and his face whips around toward me. It’s almost funny how quickly he sobers up a bit, face paling when he takes in the others behind me. “You’ve created quite the problem for yourself? Yes?”
“Jameson, what are—”
“Silence.” The two other patrons leave the bar while I turn my head to Lino and his father. “Please take your family and go. I will pay you for the damages incurred, but this won’t be gentle.”
The father swallows hard, his eyes flicking between me and the nuisance. “Understood.”
Lino, though, has other plans and tries to resist when his dad ushers him out. “But, Papa!”
“Listen to your dad, kid. Help him take care of your mum.” At the mention of his mum, his chest puffs out and he nods. Takes off in the direction of the back, while I move my attention back to the scum pissing on himself. “Get him a change of clothes and on the boat. We have somewhere to be before sundown.”
“Hijo de puta!”Jorge screams. The boiling hot water dripping from his naked torso has taken most of his skin off, the top layer anyway. He’s in pain. Bleeding in some parts. “Please. No mas…I can’t take…fuck! I’ll talk.”
“Mate, you really suck at this whole torture thing.” Those standing against the wall inside the pub back in London all chuckle. We’ve been at this for ten minutes now; we allowed him a nice nap since returning, but the man makes this too easy for his position on floor. “You’re supposed to let me ask the question first.”
“I know where Aliana and her brothers are.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“Isn’t that what you want?”
“It is.” I hold a hand out, and Archie places my whip at the center of my palm. Its weight feels good. This weapon is an extension of me, and I let the leather unfurl and crack it once against the cold concrete. I press the button to release the blades, and the audible click sends a shiver through Jorge. “But I need to know the full story before I pass judgment.”
“She’s in Nicaragua. So is the woman, Lindsey, and the boys.” Jorge licks his cracked lips. “They’re not hurt, but that’s because Aliana will be stealing something very valuable in three days.” Three days. Day after Valentine’s Day. Instead of celebrating with me, they’ll be putting her life at risk for their personal gain. I won’t allow that. “That’s what kept them safe, for now. They need her compliant, and my mother—”
“Your mother is dead,” Giannis interrupts, his lips curled up in disgust. Normally, I’d shoot someone for doing what he just did, but he has permission to do so if the wanker is lying. “You forget I went to the funeral.”
“That woman wasn’t my mother.”
“Then who the fuck is…” Giannis trails off and his eyes widen. The look on his face is almost comical. Almost,because I’m clueing into what he’s hinting at and it’s sickening. “You mean to tell me Ada Rubens is your mother?”
“She is. She also killed Aliana’s father, and he’s not her first victim.”
“Governor Rubens?” He nods at my question. “What else has she done? Why is she holding Aliana and her siblings?” You have to be one mentally fucked individual to hurt your own kid. Then a thought occurs. “Is she even their mother?”
Because at this point, nothing would surprise me.
“She is.”
“But?”
“But she loves money and her freedom more. That’s why she killed my father all those years ago, the governor’s ambitions were similar to hers. However,” he coughs, then rubs at the skin of his chest which is a mistake. His hiss is loud. “Fucking shit.”
“However, what?”
Jorge’s face is pinched tight with pain. “She does have a weakness.”
“Which is?”
“Rigo Martin.”
Rigo’s son is in the room, and the look on his face says it all. There’s hurt and betrayal, but more than that, I see hatred and a thirst for vengeance that rivals my own.
“I want every last detail of your mum’s plan, Jorge.” Flicking my wrist forward, I strike across his blistered chest twice and then watch the skin part where the blade sliced through. He screams, snot and tears mixing together at the bow of his upper lip before sliding lower. Disgusting. “I want her location, and that of your wife, because I know she’s involved, too.”
“Yes.” A whimper.
“You will also call your mum and tell her you’re taking a holiday somewhere you’ve always wanted to visit.”
“Yes.”
“And Jorge…” bloodshot pupils stare back at me, the pain on his features prominent “…I’m going to thank you ahead of time for your cooperation. Now, please try and relax. It’s going to be a long day.”