A week.
Thatâs how long weâve been waiting for the motherfucker to pose his next goddamn challenge.
One.
Fucking.
Week.
In that time, Iâm going absolutely crazy. My collarbone hurts. My whole body feels like shit. I might be going crazy.
I have to find a way to see Marisol again.
Johnny, surprisingly, is somewhat helpful in that regard. Since no one feels like heâs a serious contender for the role, heâs able to joke around with some of the guards. Get some insight into where Benicio keeps Marisol, and for how long.
From what I can tell, Marisol has free reign of her own home. My concerns about her being a fuckinâ captive are unfounded.
Except that she has the Italian bastard following her everywhere.
Moretti hates me. Thatâs clear as fuckinâ day. Every time he sees me, his eyes turn into some kind of hateful, disgusting glare. He looks at me like Iâm fuckinâ scum.
Which is fine.
Itâs nothing new.
What I canât figure out, though, is why. Sure, everyone hates me, but I donât know specifically why Moretti does.
Prior to this, we havenât ever met. I ainât seen his ugly fuckinâ face one day in my life, even if I did know of him.
And knowinâ of him is all that we had, before this.
Morettiâs reputation as Souzaâs hound, guard dog, and executioner is somewhat legendary. I wasnât shocked when he showed up looking for Marisol.
But I am shocked to see how much he doesnât like me.
The door to my little barracks room opens, and Johnny saunters in. âI think I know how to find you some time with your girl.â
That gets my attention. âWhat?â
He flops on the bed, and eyes my arm in the sling. âYou think you can make that thing work?â
âFor Marisol?â always.
He sighs. âMarco didnât really say you were here because of a girl.â
âHe sent you here without any context?â
Johnny shakes his head. âOnly that you wanted to win this fuckinâ thing.â
âWhy else would I want to win it?â
That earns me a scathing glare. âBecause whoever wins gets the keys to the fuckinâ kingdom, man.â
I tilt my head. âDo you want this kingdom, Spinoli?â
Johnny sighs, leaning against the wall. âI mean itâs not like Iâve got another one to walk into.â
Johnnyâs not a second son, like me. Heâs the scion of his family, and in theory, he could definitely be in the running for his family.
But instead of that, his whole family has been nailed on so many charges, they have a whole section of prison dedicated just to the Spinolis.
Or at least, thatâs what Iâve heard.
âYou donât want what Benicio Souza has to offer,â I say darkly. Benicio has built his empire on blood. Itâs not necessarily surprising that he drove this thing into the ground, financially, but at the same time it is kind of surprising that he allowed himself to get in this position.
That he didnât just kill everyone in order to cover it up. That he has enough people coming after him that he needs a financial infusion.
âYou know why heâs trying to sell Marisol off to the highest bidder, right?â
âMan, I donât know how you think of sellinâ someone, but Iâm sure this ainât it,â Johnny grins and points at my collarbone, then at the black eye heâs still sporting.â
âDoesnât matter how heâs hiding it. Benicio only wants people with families that he can tap into because he needs the money.â
âHow so?â
âMarisol told me.â
He shrugs. âMan, I know that. But still. The chance to take over one of the greatest cartels in history? You gotta admit, that sounds pretty fuckinâ good.â
I donât care about the cartel.
All I want is Marisol.
When I donât answer, Johnny sighs. âWell. Guess I better tell you about what I have.â
âPlease.â
âShe swims at the pool. Once a day. Around three.â
âThe outside pool?â
âInside lap pool.â
Fuck. I narrow my eyes, and Johnny continues. âThereâs a door. Itâs a maintenance door on the outside of the building. Guard change is around two, then again at four. In theory if you snuck in, crawled past all the spiders and shit, then youâd be in there with her.â
My heart kicks against my ribs.
I frown, looking at him. âHow the fuck do you know?â
âI braved the spiders.â
Which means he saw Marisol in her swimsuit.
My eyes glaze over. Johnnyâs talking, but I donât hear him.
In a heartbeat I fling off the sling and grab him by the throat. âDonât you ever fuckinâ look at her again.â
He coughs, squirming under my grip. âFuck off!â he rasps.
âNever. Fuckin. Look at her,â I snarl.
âOkay! I wonât!â
I drop him. Johnny coughs, wrapping his hand around his throat. âFuck, man. Iâm just tryinâ to help.â
I donât answer.
Johnny mutters, giving me a glare. I know that I should apologize. Say something.
I donât want to.
âIâm not after your girl, asshole,â he says finally. âYou can calm the fuck down.â
I donât have anything to say.
âJesus. Look. Do you want to get in to see her or not?â
I nod.
âTomorrow. Meet me and weâll go.â
With that, Johnny leaves.
I canât help myself. The hope I have isâ¦
Terrifying.
The next day, in the afternoon, Johnny and I set out like weâre going for a run. We donât go together, because being seen as an alliance is going to get us fuckinâ killed.
But I follow him, slowly, as he jogs around the compound.
When he gets to a sheer wall, without any windows, he runs over and slaps a sweaty hand on it.
Gross.
I hesitate, then a few minutes later, I follow.
The wall doesnât have any discernible places where itâs clear that I can get into it. For a second, I think that Johnny has been fucking with me.
Then my fingers find the slightest dent.
I follow it, outlining a square on the side of the building. Cautiously, I push, and to my surprise the door clicks open.
Huh.
Itâs not big. It looks like the door to a crawl space, maybe four foot square. Still, itâs exactly as Johnny said, and the guards are changing as we speak.
Time to crawl.
I get on my hands and knees and push. Inside, thereâs a mess of dripping, chlorine-scented wires. Once or twice, I feel the brush of spiderwebs over my skin, or the feeling of too many legs on my arm.
Being bitten by something in the Brazilian jungle is not how I want to die.
But itâs worth it to get to Marisol.
Eventually the crawl space opens up slightly, making room for bigger pool maintenance items. Iâm not a fuckinâ pool boy, so I donât know exactly what all of this shit is.
I do, however, know that Marisol is worth wading through this garbage for.
When I can stand, I see another door. This one has a handle and everything, which is a good sign. I press against it, listening to the room beyond.
Thereâs nothing. Silence. I look down at my watch, noting the time.
Johnny said that she swims at three. Itâs two fifteen.
Fuck.
I have forty five minutes to wait it out.
I slide down, putting my back to the door. Idly, I wonder if thereâs any kind of locker room out there. I could do with a shower, and if no one is going to be in here for a whileâ¦
Cautiously, I crack the door, just slightly.
Thereâs no one in the room.
Itâs huge, containing what must be at least an Olympic-sized pool. Thereâs sunlight coming in from bright windows up overhead, and it plays on the still water. You can hear a light sound, the pumps running probably, but nothing that would give any indication that there are other human beings nearby.
I spy a door that looks like it might be a restroom. Thereâs two of âem.
Forty-five minutes.
I can make that work.
Quickly, I move. I slip into one of the rooms and lock the door. If someone is gonna bust in on me, Iâll at least be able to hear âem comin.
I turn the shower on.
My clothes are kind of fucked. Theyâre covered in mud and some spider shit, but at least Iâll be able to smell like I didnât just wade through some mud.
That gives me plenty of comfort.
Showered, clean, I slip my clothes back on and peek out again. Still no one. I slip back across the space, my feet padding softly on the tile, and into the pool room again.
Then, I put my back against the door and I wait.
Eventually, Iâm beginning to be very sure that Marisol isnât even coming. After all, why would she? Sheâs not held to a schedule or required to be here or nothinâ like that. Iâm certain that I should just leave when I hear something.
Despite the fact that Iâm behind a closed door, I still, my heart in my throat.
I hear Marisolâs voice.
âThank you,â she says, muffled through the door. I tilt my head so my ear is flat against the door, listening in. âYou can leave.â
âMarisol. Every day, you ask me to leave.â
âI know.â
Thereâs a man in there with her.
My whole body goes rigid, and a growl forms in my throat.
Who the fuck is in there with her?
âAre you certain you donât wantâ¦â
âI am. I just⦠itâs my time. To be alone,â she says.
I think whoever this is, heâs making her fucking uncomfortable.
âHave you thought of my offer?â
That voice is heavily accented. Italian, if Iâm not mistaken. Since Luca Costa went home, and Johnny doesnât have that type of an accent, thereâs only one person who could be in there with her.
Ice covers my heart, but my body builds rage like a furnace.
I know who that is.
I know exactly who that fuckinâ is.
Moretti is in there with her. Heâs her fuckinâ personal guard, and this also explains why he was such a fuckinâ dick to me that day.
He wants her for himself.
Jesus Christ. Everything in me is telling me to get in there. Storm in, knock his fuckinâ lights out, and take her. Run away from this place, crawl through all the goddamn spiders and somewhere that they canât find her.
That he canât find her.
âAndreiâ¦â
The use of his name, his first fuckinâ name, is like a bomb in my ears.
A horrible thought occurs to me.
What if she likes him being around? What if sheâs choosing to keep this⦠whatever it is going with him?
What if she feels the same way about him that he feels about her?
Rage, hot and clean, burns through me.
âI havenât thought any more about it, Andrei.â
âMarisolâ¦â
No one gets to use her fuckinâ name but me.
âPlease. I just want to be alone right now. Can you do that, Andrei?â
Thereâs silence.
If he doesnât leave her alone, I donât give a shit about the consequences. I donât give a shit if he shoots me so full of holes I look like Swiss cheese.
I can get to him before that. I can do enough damage before I die thatâ¦
âAs you will,â he says.
Thereâs another silent heartbeat. I hear footsteps echo.
Then, thereâs just the sound of splashing.
I open the door.
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