Pedro smiled.
"You got everything you want," Mickey said. "I'm sorry things went down the way they did. If I had it all to do again, I’d do things differently.”
"Is that supposed to make me feel better? Is that supposed to bring back all the lost years?”
"No. Of course not.”
Pedro put the cigarette between his lips, drew a pistol from his waistband, and aimed it at Mickey’s head. “Tell me why I shouldn’t just kill you now?”
53
“Just let my daughter go,” Mickey said. “I don’t care if you kill me.”
The barrel of Pedro’s gun stared him down, big and vengeful. Hatred filled Pedro’s eyes.
“You just got out,” I said. “You don’t want to go back on a murder charge.”
“I suppose you’ll just forget all about the kidnapping,” Pedro said. “I’m sorry. But you all have to die.”
Rage boiled Mickey’s face. Angry tears misted his eyes. “Let Kendra go!”
“She really is a beautiful young woman. Maybe I should keep her around. Use her as my plaything.”
Mickey snarled at him. “You motherfucker!”
Pedro laughed. “Yes. I think that’s exactly what I’ll do. Who knows? Over time, she might even come to like it.”
It was all Mickey could do to keep from attacking the guy.
Pedro’s finger wrapped tightly around the trigger. Smoke wafted from the cigarette. He was ready to squeeze.
“There’s more money,” Mickey said.
Pedro paused. “How much more?”
“Another $50 million.”
“Where?”
“Let my daughter and Tyson go. I’ll take you there. You can do whatever you want to me as long as you leave them alone.”
I didn’t know if he was bluffing, but it was a good tactic to buy some time. Jack and Flynn couldn’t be far away.
“Why would I need another $50 million?” Pedro asked. “This is enough.”
“If you don’t need it, give it to your men. Something to reward them for their loyalty.”
Mickey was smart. He put a bug in their ear. I’m sure Pedro’s men were already dividing $50 million by three in their heads. Though some of them might need a pen and paper to figure it out.
Headlights raked across us as another vehicle pulled into the lot. It was a black four-door Rampage GT. The late model muscle car crunched to a halt. The doors flung open, and four goons spilled out, weapons drawn.
I recognized them right away.
"That's my fucking van, homey!” Rico shouted to Pedro as he marched forward, an AR-15 shouldered.
That grabbed Pedro's attention. He swung the barrel of his pistol away from Mickey's head. "Excuse me!”
"You heard me, motherfucker. That's my van. Those fuckers stole it from me," he said, motioning to us. "We’ve been looking for it everywhere.”
