Page 10 of Savage Redemption

Again, silence. He stares at me, his expression one of dignified, resigned acceptance of his fate.

“I suppose I could keep you here indefinitely, but really, I could do with the space.”

Not a flicker.

“Or I could release you, but we both know that’s not happening. You’d regroup, come to some sort of terms with your clan, and you’d be back. I might not see you coming next time.”

I wait for some form of protest, some empty promise that he’ll go away quietly, in exchange for his life. None is forthcoming.

I let the silence drag out. Seconds, then minutes.

San Antonio breaks the deadlock. “I won’t give you the satisfaction of begging, if that’s what you’re waiting for. Just get on with it. Unless you need your sidekick to do your dirty work for you.”

I half turn towards Baz and gesture him forward. “Do the honours, would you?”

Baz takes a pace forward, to stand beside me. San Antonio’s eyes widen momentarily, but still, he doesn’t cower or flinch.

“We want to offer you a deal.” It’s the first time Baz has spoken since we entered. His words hang in the air like live, wriggling creatures.

San Antonio’s chin lifts. “I already told you. I won’t beg.”

“No. But you could pay your own ransom.”

“I have no access to Domingo funds. You know this.”

“I’m talking about your own funds. Money you earn yourself.”

“I have no?—”

“Not yet. But you could.”

San Antonio’s eyes narrow. His brow creases. “I do not follow.”

“I’ve done my homework. It seems you have a…talent for business. For making money. You proved that before you took over as head of the family. Prior to that, you were the banker. You kept the coffers filled.”

“So? I know my way around a profit-and-loss account. That was a long time ago.”

“Not that long. You won’t have forgotten.”

“You have a balance sheet you need me to decipher for you?”

“No, but we could use your talents.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“I’m offering you a job.”

“Do I look like a fucking workman?”

Baz is undeterred. “You look like a man short of options, if I’m honest. I’m offering you the chance to go back to your old life, but this time working for us.”

“Are you mad?”

My thoughts exactly, but Baz seems intent on developing his point.

“I don’t think so. You could walk out of here. Alive. A free man.”

“Not free, exactly,” I feel compelled to point out. “You’d be working for me. I’d take a percentage of what you can make. I was thinking eighty percent would be fair, leaving you something for yourself to make it worthwhile.”

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