Page 32 of Bad Blood
So, what to do…
I could kill him just for being an idiot. That’d be the easiest and most satisfying end to the night. But it’s obvious how easily he’s manipulated.
Moldable.
Usable.
Thalia stole from me and refused to tell me why. Now that I know, it’s information easily leveraged to my advantage.
RJ steps forward, the knife tucked tightly in his fist. “Can I slit his throat now? Thispinche cabrónis giving me a headache.”
I hold up a hand. “Where’s the tape, Bardi?”
“Why?”
“Because unlike you, I have plans for it that don’t involve jerking off into a Kleenex.”
Bardi’s swollen face puckers. “If I give it to you, what’s in it for me?”
“You live to see tomorrow,” I say, bracing both hands on the arms of his chair. “And maybe even a few after that...”
A defeated glaze coats his bloodshot eyes. “It’s in a safety deposit box in Queens.” At my raised eyebrow, he sighs, adding, “The bank account is under Donatella Bardi—my grandmother.”
He sold out his own grandmother?
I hated this motherfucker before, but now I not only want to cut off his fingers, but the traitorous lips of a treacherous grandson.
Family disloyalty is the deadliest sin in the eyes of a Carrera.
“DoesAbuelaDonatella know her piece of shit grandson has involved her in a goddamn cartel war?”
“No,” he admits, shaking his head weakly. “She didn’t ask questions.”
“Of course she didn’t.” I grit my teeth. Why would she? She’s just another innocent life tainted by his greed. “Take a trip to Queens,” I instruct RJ, my eyes still locked on Bardi. “Escort Donatella Bardi to the bank to retrieve our stolen property.”
“It’s not stolen—”
“Shut up!” I growl, forcing myself not to ram my fist into his face. Fucking him up won’t do me any favors with Thalia. “Don’t scare the woman. Tell her whatever lie she needs to hear in order to comply. Return with the tape, not blood—comprendes?”
Bardi’s eyes shift between us. “I’ve given you everything you’ve asked for, Carrera. Now let me go.”
He’s right. Which proves he’s telling the truth about one thing—he’s not working with the Santiagos. Any cartel associate knows the only thing ever standing between life and death is information.
It’s time to turn up the heat and watch this piece of shit burn.
I glance over my shoulder where RJ still fists both weapons. “Go for the carotid and make it messy…”
“No, wait!” Bardi’s tied limbs thrash in the chair. “That’s not everything! If you kill me, you’ll never know what he has planned!”
“He?”
“Edier Grayson,” he says hesitantly. “That’s who shot up your casino, right? There’s more coming your way than just a few stray bullets hitting the wall, Carrera. And this shot will be heard round the world.”
I stiffen, grabbing him by the throat. “I thought you were here just for a handout, Bardi. What the fuck do you know? And don’t lie to me this time.”
Bardi’s Adam’s apple bobs against my palm. “If I tell you, you won’t turn me over to Grayson?”
“Now why would I do that when you can be much more useful with your hands still attached.” My slow smile punctuates the thinly-veiled threat as I release my grip.
