The Kiss after Midnight (The Midnight Trilogy) (23 page)

Jorge laughed. “And what’s that going to do? You think Antonio is just playing for
us
? You think he has nothing else on the side? I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to have us all killed.” He held on to Juan’s shoulder and spoke firmly. “That boy is going to destroy all of us, everything we’ve done over all these years. Is that what you want? You’ve paid your dues to your brother. Are you going to wait till you’re in a body bag to realize what this boy is doing?”

Juan took a step back and stared into Jorge’s eyes. “I’ll do anything to ease your pain, you can be assured of that. But please don’t ask this of me. It’s just something I can’t do.”

Jorge walked to the window and stared outside for a moment. “At least listen to what Rodrigo has to say.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“He’s found something out from our friends at internal affairs. Something you’ll definitely want to know. Hear him out and do what you have to.”

Juan nodded and embraced Jorge.

Jorge walked to the door and opened it, and Rodrigo walked in.

“Listen to him, Juan,” Jorge said. “I’m going to talk to Salma. She needs all the love at a time like this.”

Juan waited for the door to shut before fixing a firm gaze on Rodrigo. “Well, what is it?”

“It might be nothing, but one of our guys in internal affairs has found something.”

Tobias slept fitfully, confused by his feelings about his grandfather’s death. He had hated the man for as long as he could remember, but at the same time, he knew he didn’t have all the information. He had unanswered questions. After learning of his grand-father’s terminal cancer two years earlier, he occasionally thought about getting on a plane to Düsseldorf to attempt reconciliation, but he didn’t want it to look as if he was doing it only for the money.

Annabel lay still in the bed, her back toward him and her butt sticking out. He knew she was awake because of the continued clearing of her throat. He also knew she had been right: With money, they stood a far better chance of vanishing and starting a new life.

He put his arm around her, and she covered it with her own. “Did you know that Reynaldo guy?” he said. “The guy who died?”

She was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, I knew him. I sort of saw him for a while.”

“Really?”

“Nothing serious, but it kinda pissed Antonio off.”

“No way. You were seeing Antonio, too?”

She nodded. “I know, right? It was one of the stupidest things I ever did. I don’t know why. I guess I just fell for his bullshit, you know?”

Tobias chuckled.

She turned to him. “What’s so funny?”

“I don’t know. It just reminds me of what I used to be like. It was all about the chase back then. Always after the woman who played hard to get, hardly spending a night at home. It was crazy.”

“A Casanova then, but then you met Penélope.”

Tobias half-laughed. “Yeah, I did.”

“And?”

“She was just so different.”

Annabel looked away. “That’s Penélope. All the men loved her.”

Tobias turned her chin toward him. “You know, after we first got here, I thought you just hated all men, but I think I get you now.”

“And what do you get?”

“You’re just like every other girl, but you handle your problems differently.”

She glared at him.

“Something’s happened to you, hasn’t it?”

She licked her lips and looked past him toward the faint light creeping in from the bathroom.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You don’t know anything about me,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Then why don’t you just let me in? We’re in this together now, right? What happened to you?”

“It’s better you don’t know.”

He caressed her shoulder. “Look, you’ve done nothing but help me. I’m here for you, too.”

“Just stop talking, Tobias. You’re not the only one with a fucked-up family, you know. I’ve been through shit, too.”

He pulled her head closer to his. “I’m not saying—”

She kissed him on the lips, her tongue exploring his for a few seconds before she pulled back. They stared at each other, the silence in the room ominous. Suddenly she kissed him again and pressed her naked body against his.

***

Rico sipped his glass of red wine as Antonio ate. Beside him, Fernando sat unmoving, staring at the restaurant door every time it opened. Rumors on the street had been flying thick and fast since Reynaldo’s funeral. Many said Juan would allow Jorge to retaliate, making all in Antonio’s crew nervous, especially Fernando.

Antonio, meanwhile, continued on as if nothing had happened. He still paid regular visits to his favorite bookies, even in broad daylight. Worried about Marie’s safety, Rico ensured that she never ventured anywhere the other wives and girlfriends hung out, just in case Jorge intended to get revenge by first striking Antonio’s confidants and their families.

Antonio placed another slice of rare-cooked steak in his mouth, but he stopped chewing and stared at his men. “What’s up with you two? Why the faces?”

Fernando remained silent. Rico took a deep breath. “I’m hearing a lot. Jorge’s been saying a lot of shit.”

“Oh, fuck Jorge. He’s all talk. Nothing’s going to happen.”

Rico leaned forward. “We might have fucked up.”

Antonio threw his fork down. “What the fuck did you say?”

Rico held both hands up. “We’ve got Juan. Either way, he’ll go. We know that. But for the move we’re planning, we need Jorge and Eduardo.”

Antonio sank back in his chair. “You know what? You’re right. I mean, what can I say? I didn’t think that through. I mean, how could I when that prick was calling my dead girlfriend a whore?” He sipped his rosé champagne and took a deep breath. But the thing is, I don’t think we were ever going to get Jorge, even if that thing never happened with Reynaldo.” He leaned toward Rico and his voice hardened. “What did you think would happen? That Jorge would stand by and let me run things?” He laughed. “Come on, Rico, you and I know Jorge was always the biggest problem, no matter how this played out.” He continued eating his steak.

Rico gulped the rest of his wine and pushed his seat back. “I gotta run. I’ve got this thing with Marie.”

Antonio rose and embraced his
ejecutor
. Rico shook Fernando’s hand—an awkward gesture—and walked toward his car, parked two minutes down the street. The Navigator unlocked after he pressed the alarm, but the keys slipped from his fingers as he reached toward the door. As he knelt to pick them up, he saw the edge of a baseball bat swinging toward him before crashing against his head.

***

Rico felt a sharp pain in his head when he woke up. He moved it from side to side, and his eyes flickered open. He blinked rapidly, the pain growing more acute. He felt something sharp tearing into his wrists and quickly realized that his hands were shackled behind his back with very tight handcuffs. Two men stood in front of him, but his vision was too blurry for him to make them out. One seemed to be waving at him in a gesture of mockery.

The room smelled moldy and damp. One of the men pointed at him and laughed. It was a voice he had heard many times. He closed his eyes tightly and opened them again—it was indeed Pablo who stood in front of him. And he didn’t have to look to know who would be beside him—Nino.

Beside him was a dirty chair. His mind raced as he tried to figure out what was happening. Just then a door he hadn’t known was there opened and Juan and Eduardo walked in. The
gobernador
stood in front of him with his arms folded. Rico stared at him with questioning eyes, shock all over his face. Juan leaned forward and tilted his head from one side to the other as if studying him before stepping back.

“Surprised to see me, Rico?” Juan said. “I bet you thought it would be Jorge.”

“I don’t get it, boss.”

“ ‘Boss’ is it? So you still think I’m the boss.” He knelt and glared at him. “One thing you forgot: You’re not my nephew. I can kill you right here without blinking.”

“But what have I done?” Rico strained to talk, the pain in his head kicking in every time he opened his mouth.

“Nothing, Rico. You’ve done nothing. Everyone knows that Antonio is a loose cannon. All you had to do was keep him in line, but you couldn’t do that, could you?” Juan stepped back and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. “But that’s not why you’re here.” He lunged forward and punched Rico in the face.

Rico grimaced and held his mouth open for a few seconds, the pain slow to subside.

Juan nodded at Andrés, who opened the door. “Bring him down,” he shouted.

Shuffling noises came from above as if someone were being dragged down the stairs. Raul and Gregorio—runners for Pablo, known in the organization as
los corredores
—walked in. Raul held on to the heavily battered face of one of Rico’s own runners, Joachim. They marched the hobbling man to the seat beside Rico and handcuffed his hands behind his back.

Blood gushed from a fresh wound on the side of the man’s head. He was dressed in only a string vest and shorts. Both kneecaps had dried blood on them, and multiple cuts ran all the way down his leg. Rico turned to Juan. “What have you done to him?”

Juan nodded at Raul and Gregorio, and they left the room. “I’ve been hearing very disturbing news, Rico, about this Tobias fella, and the apparent damning evidence he has on me. Naturally, I thought it was all bullshit. I mean, how could a punk have anything on me?” He stepped to within a few inches of Rico’s face. “Unless, of course, someone in my family has given him something to use against me.” He stepped back and shouted, “Unless someone who calls me boss is planning to fuck me up.” He took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “I’m a simple guy, Rico. I work with simple rules: Stay loyal and prosper; fuck me and die.”

Rico felt the seat beside him shake violently as Joachin trembled.

“Looks like your man over there needs reassurance,” Juan said. He nodded at Pablo, who lunged forward and planted a punch on the injured man’s head, causing more blood to flow.

“Enough,” Rico shouted. “Look, I don’t know what you think you know or what anybody has told you, but no one in my crew is plotting against you. Do I look crazy to you?”

Juan waved his hand and Pablo stepped aside. Juan stood between the seated men. “You know me, Rico. Unlike my reckless nephew, I don’t move without the facts. And your man stinks.”

“What’s he done?”

“You punk children, you think we’re so old and past it that you can pull the wool over our eyes? I’ve played this game better than you kids ever could. All those contacts you have in the precincts—they’ve covered your tracks, but they haven’t done it very well.” Juan held out his hand and Andrés handed him an A3-size photo, which he held in front of Rico. It showed a maroon Ford GT Shelby.

Rico bit his bottom lip.

“That’s right, Rico. You know whose car that is. It’s the punk’s beside you. I’m gonna tell you a story, one you already know. There’s a guy running around out there wanted for murder. Word started spreading that he had some evidence on me that could put me away. Thing is, one of my guys in internal affairs informs me that the evidence is a video recording showing me pull the trigger on Connor Murray. Can you believe it, me the one who killed that punk?

“Anyway, it turns out that this video does exist and Tobias has a very clear copy. So I start asking myself who was around that day that could have made this brilliant recording, and Nino tells me that he could have sworn he saw Joachim’s car.

“Obviously, I don’t want to start killing people without proof, so I get my guy to look at the video cameras, and he came back with nothing. But then he found out that some kids had been taking pictures on their phones of their dogs just thirty minutes before we got there. Wanna guess where that picture of his car turned up?”

Rico licked his lips and looked at the floor.

“That’s what I thought. Now, I know Joachim doesn’t take a shit without your permission, so I think to myself, if the dog is there, the master must be, too, or he sent the dog out to do his bidding. Tell me if I’m close.”

Rico took a deep breath, still unable to look at Juan.

The
gobernador
leaned so close that their foreheads almost touched. “I just want to know one thing. Were you acting alone or did my nephew send you?”

Rico looked at the still-trembling Joachim and grimaced. Juan nodded at Pablo, who adjusted his eye patch and stooped to pick up a baseball bat covered in dried blood. He charged forward and struck Joachim in the abdomen. The bleeding man screamed.

“That’s enough,” Rico shouted. “You’ll kill him.”

“Not quite,” Juan said. “A few more blows to the head and, yes, he probably will die, but the body shots, they’ll just chip away at his bones. You can end this by just telling me what I want to know.”

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you. You have a shot of what might be Joachim’s car, but you have no plates. Plus it was taken half an hour before whatever you say happened happened.”

“So you’re saying that no one in your crew was involved in making that video?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Juan nodded at Pablo again, and he struck Joachim just below the shoulder blade. The man screamed for almost a minute, his entire body shaking violently.

***

Tobias tried his hardest not to move an inch as he stared at Annabel sleeping peacefully, her head against his chest. Some of her eye makeup had run across her face, which he delicately wiped. Her arms were sprawled awkwardly across the bed. The clock on the side table said 1 a.m.

His mind raced. He didn’t know how to describe his feelings for Annabel. She wasn’t like any of the other women he had been with. It was as if she were there just to protect him, which he still couldn’t completely comprehend. He mainly saw the cold and emotionless side and longed for her to act like a woman, even if only once.

As he’d had sex with her, he was unbelievably aroused and turned on. He climaxed multiple times in a short time—something that had never happened to him before. He put it down to his amazement at actually sleeping with such a detached person, someone he found overwhelmingly attractive but ultimately unattainable.