Lying in the hospital bed with tubes bristling from his nose and both his arms and bandages plastered over almost all his visible skin, including his face, the kid looks like shit.
I had to come see it for myself. I can’t believe this stubborn little fucker is still alive.
“Hello, Diego.”
He gazes at me. His dark eyes are surprisingly focused.
From what I’d heard, he was pretty much brain dead.
I suppose having a burning wood beam fall on your head will do that to you.
I take a seat beside his bed and set my gun on the nightstand. Except for the mechanical beeping of his heart monitor, it’s quiet in the room. Quiet and dark. The night shift nurses are on now. So are his night shift bodyguards, stationed outside the door.
Diego watched me silently as I dropped in from the HVAC duct in the ceiling after I removed the grate. Though his expression is obscured by all the bandages, he doesn’t seem surprised to see me. He hasn’t moved a muscle or made a sound.
It doesn’t look like he can.
Keeping my voice low, I say, “I hear you don’t remember a thing. Not even your own name. Is that right?”
No answer. Not a surprise.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m not happy about this.” I make a gesture to indicate his overall fuckedness. “You’re my enemy, but I’m not a complete savage. This is no way for men like us to go.”
His gaze never strays from my face. I can’t tell if he’s listening or if he’s as aware of his surroundings as a baked potato would be.
His memory loss has saved me a lot of trouble.
Trouble of the worst kind.
It’s strange I don’t feel happier about it.
“For what it’s worth, I didn’t torture you. I kept you locked in a cage for a few weeks, sure, but it was only with the expectation that you’d break and start talking. You never did, though. Gotta say, I admire that. A man’s nothing without his honor.”
I sigh heavily, dragging a hand through my hair. “Funny thing is, Diego, I’ve lost my taste for the hard stuff. I think Malek might’ve been right when he said women make you soft. A while ago, I’d have hung you on the wall and played target practice on your torso to get the information I wanted. Now, seeing you like this…”
I sigh again. “It only makes me depressed.”
Diego lies in his bed, unblinking.
Poor bastard. I’d rather die a million times over than live like a zucchini.
Weirdly, his silence makes me want to keep talking.
“You might be interested to know that I made it look like it was MS-13 who captured you. I heard their leader made a comment about my girl, and obviously that couldn’t stand. Nobody talks shit about my baby. He lost his head for that.” I chuckle. “One thing I’ll say for that prick Declan, he doesn’t pull any punches when he’s out for revenge.
“I know it doesn’t make sense that I pulled you out of the warehouse fire. Doesn’t make much sense to me, either. It would’ve been smarter if I’d let you burn. That building’s owned by an offshore corporation that can’t be traced to me. I should’ve just dusted off my hands and been done with you. But when I got the call from Sergey, it didn’t feel right to leave you there.
“Investigator’s still don’t know what caused it, by the way. They know it wasn’t electrical, and it wasn’t a device like an IED. Maybe it was spontaneous combustion. You ever heard of that phenomenon? People just going up in flames for no reason?”
I shake my head. “The world’s a strange fucking place.”
“It wasn’t spontaneous combustion. It was me.”
I’m so startled he’s talking, I almost grab the gun and shoot him.
Instead, I stare.
He stares back with a very non-zucchini-like sparkle in his eye. “I lit the fire. Not sure if you caught that. Thought I’d repeat it since you look a little distracted.”
His voice is different. Raspy and rough, maybe from smoke inhalation. Added to the bandages and his sudden reanimation, the overall effect is eerie.
I say slowly, “You don’t have amnesia.”
“Congratulations. You’re a genius.”
I’m impressed that someone who looks like a bag of smashed assholes still has a sense of humor. Plus, I’m still trying to grasp what the hell is going on. It must be why I don’t clock him and ask a question instead.
“How did you light the fire?”
“With the Bic in my pocket. I couldn’t take sitting in that cage any longer. I figured if I died in a fire, at least I wouldn’t have to listen to you talk anymore. You have a tendency to drone on and on. I think it’s because you enjoy the sound of your own voice. I’m not sure if anyone’s ever told you this, man, but you’ve really got an ego on you.”
After a pause, I say, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Diego. I could still kill you.”
“You’re not gonna kill me. I just heard your confession. You’d feel too bad.”
“I’d get over it.”
He ignores that. “Besides, I have an offer for you.”
I look at him in disbelief, lying burned, bruised, and bandaged in his hospital bed, this asshole I kidnapped, caged, and pulled out of a fire. “You. You have an offer for me.”
“Yes.”
“You see there’s a gun right next to me on this table, right?”
“I see it. Use it, and in five seconds you’ll be dead, too. My bodyguards are great shots.”
“So am I.”
“So then we’d all be in hell together. For all eternity. Doesn’t that sound fun?”
After a solid sixty-second stare down, I say, “I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be as annoying as Declan, but you’ve got him beat by a mile.”
“Here’s the offer: I’ll continue to pretend I have amnesia, and you’ll continue to pretend you have no knowledge of what happened to me.”
When he doesn’t go on, I frown in confusion. “How is that an offer? It’s exactly what’s been happening until now.”
“Exactly. We’ll keep the status quo.”
“To what end? What do you want out of it?”
“I just want out.”
“You’re gonna have to translate that for me. I don’t speak dumbass.”
He moves his head restlessly on the pillow, like he wants to shake it but can’t quite pull it off. “Look. I thought being the boss would be great. Money, power, pussy, all that. Right?”
“Right.”
“Except it sucked donkey balls.”
I squint at him. Maybe he did get some brain damage after all.
“After only a few months on the job, I knew it wasn’t for me. All you pinche pendejos fighting like a bunch of little bitches all the time. Wah! You took my drugs! Wah! You stole my cargo! Wah! You moved in on my turf! It’s fucking exhausting. My little sister has more smarts than all of you put together.”
I’m not sure if I should laugh or shoot him.
“I just want to retire. Let Declan deal with you. He lives for that shit.”
“Your boy Declan does a helluva lot more than deal with me, Diego. He’s got his fingers in a lot of pies.”
“Yeah, I know. He thinks he’s saving the world. I mean, I know it’s admirable, but as far as I can tell, it’s a total waste of fucking time. You kill this bad vato over here, another bad vato pops up over there. Your whole life’s groundhog day. What a headache.”
I study what I can see of his face. “So you know he’s a spy.”
“Tch. I don’t know anything. I’m just a thug who grew up on the streets. All this shit is over my head.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“If you’re thinking I’m a spy, think again. Who wants to work for the fucking government? Fuck those guys. Bureaucrats are the worst. I’m just a homie who got promoted to a C-suite position who’s better suited to the mail room. I felt like I was being suffocated. There were too many expectations, too many eyeballs on me all the time. It’s very simple: I need my freedom. I want out.”
I think for a while, then admit, “I don’t really know what to say here, Diego. This is just about the strangest and stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
If I insulted him, he doesn’t show it. He simply sighs.
“Honestly, man, you did me a favor. So I’m gonna do you a favor and keep my mouth shut. I know if everybody found out it was you who faked my death and started all this shit in the first place, you’d have mad problems on your hands. Am I right?”
“You’re not wrong.”
“Exactly. Mad problems. You’re welcome.”
“I could kill you right now if I wanted to ensure your silence.”
“Yeah, you could.”
He doesn’t sound like he cares one way or the other.
Strangely enough, I believe this idiot. He really does just want out.
“Tell you what. I’ll think about it.”
Through the bandages comes a dry chuckle. “You do that. If I don’t wake up, I’ll see you in hell, pendejo.”
“It’ll take a while for me to get there.”
“I’ll wait.”
He closes his eyes. When it becomes obvious he’s either fallen asleep or is too exhausted to continue, I rise from the chair.
Before I can climb back up into the HVAC duct, Diego stops me cold by saying, “One more thing. Your comrade, Stavros. You can’t trust him.”
I turn and look down at him. His eyes are still closed.
“Why not?”
“Let’s just say he’s not as loyal to you as he should be.”
The hair on the back of my neck prickles. When I don’t say anything, Diego opens his eyes and looks at me.
“Snitches are bitches who end up in ditches.”
“What the fuck does that gibberish mean?”
“It means put the screws to that little bitch and find out.”
I snort. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
He pauses, then says, “This place has turned into a confessional booth. People think you’ve got amnesia, all kinds of strange shit comes out of their mouths. Everybody wants to tell you a story. Just like you, when you dropped in.”
I get it instantly, and my blood starts to boil. “Stavros made a deal with Declan.”
“Just so you know, it wasn’t Declan’s idea. Your boy offered. Threw you right under the bus without batting an eyelash. Cold as a snake.”
“What was the deal?”
“Don’t worry, it didn’t pan out. I’ll let Stavros tell you the details, but the point is, don’t leave that puto alone with your silverware. He’ll be tinkling like a wind chime on his way out the door.”
“Why would you tell me this? Even if it’s true, what’s in it for you?”
“Eh, you treated me pretty good when I was in that cage. Gave me a little vacation. A little time to think about my future. Plus, bottom line, you saved my life. Like you said, it woulda been smarter for you to let me burn, but you didn’t.”
I narrow my eyes at him. It dawns on me that this kid is brighter than he seems.
“You knew I’d come, didn’t you? When you started that fire, you knew I’d show up to try to get you out.”
His smile is faint. His eyes drift close.
“Don’t take this personally, but whoever your friend Malek is that you mentioned, he was right when he said women make a man soft. I’ve seen it too many times now, with homies even harder than you. A man starts getting really good pussy, like life-changing pussy, he can’t remember what he used to be so mad about all the time. Sound familiar?”
I don’t answer.
Diego doesn’t speak again.
I really hate it when other people are right.
