Page 15 of His Deadly Lies

I really hope it’s the former and not the latter, but a part of me delights in it being the latter. Forty-two years on this earth, and I’ve been around the block. I’ve seen almost a few important players rise and fall in this city.

Competitors have come and gone thinking they know what it takes to corner the market and do it in a fresh way, to outsource and topple their competitors. They’ve all disappeared the same way.

Too cocky for their own good, too prideful to make the hard, long-term decisions instead of the fast ones that seem to assure easy growth.

The Balestras, to their credit, have been at the top of the pack for decades at this point. They certainly did not get there by employing weak men. Which makes these two the exception rather than the rule. I wonder if the quality of help has slipped in the past five years or if the old man has.

Christ.

“Please. Don’t hurt my daughter.”

One of the men offers the whimpered statement.

I grab the towel from my back pocket and wipe my hands. My tactics are a bit unorthodox for quickie interrogations, though. It hadn’t taken long at all to find these two goons chasing down leads in the city and doing it sloppily, at best. Apparently, they’re looking for a getaway car from a recent shooting.

“Thank you, gentlemen, for your information.” I regard the two men strung up by their wrists, their ankles manacled to the floor. “It really is much obliged.”

Most people want a basement space in their place for rec use. I wanted it for interrogations when we made enough money to have this house built. Things get messy when you have to move bodies from one place to another.

Both men sag against their restraints, bloody and tired but alive.

For interrogations, it’s less about physical intimidation as it is about finding the right buttons to push to make your victim really afraid. And I’m very good at what I do. The stronger souls, the ones who actually deserve to be elevated to their position of power in their cartels, know to put their physical safety last on a long list of priorities.

These guys sobbed at the first incision of my knife and wept like pussies when I started pressing harder.

It wasn’t until I’d run a quick background check on the first man, plucked way too easily from guard detail around the Balestra encampment, and started talking about the entrances and exits to one of his daughter’s schools that he started singing canary in a coal mine style. And once he broke, the other one quickly followed.

The entire thing took less than an hour from start to finish.

One, two, three.

Please don’t hurt me!

Mia Balestra is at Lakeside. A drive-by, last night, they tell me. Her driver was hit, but she was not…

Not just an ordinary shooting, they told me without hesitation. A shooting specifically targeting the good little princess. Who apparently caused quite a scene as she'd been taken in a family car to the hospital.

A scene, they say, not because of an injury but because she’d been taken against her will. Or so the men claim. They’d been dispatched to deliver her driver to the same hospital.

I wipe my hands until I’ve erased every trace of visible blood from my skin. No wonder Edward Balestra changed the meeting time. He’s been dealing with a family crisis, a hit on his precious heir.

Which leads me to believe there is not only a chink in his armor, but the source of the weakness comes from within his operation. Someone has targeted the family leading the biggest drug and arms smuggling syndicate in Ohio. Possibly even this area of the country.

Why?

If he’s been employing men like these, it might be some kind of disgruntled worker bee. Those who have access to the daily grind on some level, access to the secrets Edward knows well to keep to himself.

I have no respect for men who spill so easily, nor anyone who sees fit to employ them.

“We’re done here, gentlemen,” I tell the men.

It’s the last words they’ll hear.

In a smooth, practiced movement, I grab the knife from where I let it drop and slash it across one man’s throat and then the other, their deaths quick. It’s a small mercy for them because it’s illogical to let them go.

They’ve seen my face.

Time to put their ends to my advantage.

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