Page 137 of Shifting Hearts 1
The man fights against the urge, struggling against the rope's hold on his hands as well. I wait patiently, just staring into his eye because eventually, they all break.
What feels like minutes pass until he finally gives me what I want. “Grant. My name is Grant Mullens.”
“Excellent. And who do you work for, Grant?”
I resist the urge to give Alejandro a gloating smile and focus purely on my next victim.
“The Alvarez family. We are FBI agents who have been in their pockets for years. Which means that someone is bound to realize that we are missing.”
I nod slowly, contemplating my next question. I need to be careful not to break the spell I have on him. An upsurge of emotions usually counteracts the strange hypnotic hold I have on my victims. I had to learn that the hard way. I can’t even make my victims feel guilty about their heinous crimes against humanity.
“Did you report your whereabouts to the bureau?”
“No, but the plan was to get the location of this warehouse and return home. This idiot to my left wanted to take you hostage to garner more favor with the don. He wasn’t pleased that you escaped his wrath after foiling his plan.”
“And you were just waiting outside the club for instructions?”
“Yeah, as an extra measure, should the Rivera family double-cross the don,” he states.
“Why did the don have the drinks poisoned?”
“He was doing a favor for the Rivera cartel. His uncle”—he nods in Alejandro’s direction—“is the only reason they have not expanded the business, and they are getting sick of his righteous, outdated stance. They want him out of the way, so they can move forward with the plan.”
I don’t know the inner workings of the Rivera cartel, but by the clenched fists by his sides and the tic in his jaw muscle, I can assume Alejandro is not happy about the news.
“And what does the don want with me?”
Now he laughs, an evil expression marred on his face. The sounds echo off the stark white tiles. “He wants to make an example out of you. Said he would take you back and break you before he releases you into the wild…piece by…piece.”
A shudder goes through me, and I gulp at the prospect of what Alejandro saved me from. Still, I push through it.
“Are there any other plans we need to know of? Surely, he must have told you something that could be useful?”
He bites his lower lip, and I increase the intensity of my stare. He is trying to resist, but they all fail.
Eventually, he sighs and says, “He said that he wants this mess cleaned up before the big auction at the end of the month. He is collecting merchandise as we speak, but he won’t divulge any other information unless all the players on the board are true to him and his cause. I don’t know anything more.”
This is what I have been waiting for. Something, anything that could point me to Alexi’s location. “Where is he keeping the merchandise? Does he have a compound somewhere?”
Rumors have been floating around of such a place where the woman and children are kept in cages like animals. I can only pray that is not the case here.
“I don’t know. What I do know is that he is taking them young because the auction has a theme.”
“Which is?” My voice has a slight tremble that I try to repress.
“Vodka and virgins. He thought the play on words would be cute. Said he is trying to lure more than the average businessman. I think he took some boys too.”
I scrounge my nose, disgusted by the notion that the innocence of youth can be so callously bargained with. I look at the other two. “And what about your friends? Would they know something useful? Maybe, they know the location where the merchandise is kept.”
The man shakes his head and answers. “No, I always go in alone to see the don. I just got these patsies to come along in case something goes wrong.”
I tried one last time. “Then surely you must have heard something about Alexi. Your willingness to give me honest answers will not be forgotten.”
He shakes his head, clearly giving up on his demise that is evidently going to follow.
The one on the left spits in his direction, but it lands on the tiles before my feet. Thoroughly grossed out, I ask my last question, “Who knows your location?”
Hesitantly, he opens his mouth to speak, but Alejandro interjects, “We have signal jammers all over this place. If you had any device tracking you, they would have lost the signal about a mile from here.”
