My gun feels like an old friend in my hands as I stalk inside. Yusuf yelps and falls off the bed, trying desperately to pull his pants up. The TV’s playing crappy porn. Moans escape from his laptop. More porn’s playing. Some overly muscular guy’s slamming a tiny girl. They’re both screaming like they’re in heaven or maybe getting murdered. Hard to say sometimes.
“Get the fuck up,” I snarl, pointing the gun down at Yusuf’s face. He’s got one hand shoved awkwardly into the pocket of his jeans. “Do it real slow.”
“How did you find me?” He’s got a vague New York accent. I notice it now that I’m not fighting for my life.
“Your internet traffic. I bet you know what gooning is, don’t you?”
He grimaces, eyes glancing at the screen. “But how did that lead you to me?”
“Your fucking username is Yusuf_jerksit, you stupid fuck. Wasn’t hard to make the connection.” I kick him hard in the ribs. “I owed you that.”
He groans and rolls over. I drag him back up onto the bed, pull his gun from his pants, and toss it aside. He curls into himself as I turn off the TV and slam his laptop lid closed.
He looks younger than I remember. Skinny, tattooed, exposed. His eyes keep darting to the hallway like he hopes help’s on the way. But not in a place like this. Not unless there are gunshots, and I haven’t pulled the trigger. Not yet, anyway.
“Time to answer some questions. Why did you send Hector after me?”
Yusuf only shrugs. “Business. That’s all.”
“Who do you work for?”
“Nobody important.”
I hit him hard. No hesitation. I smack the butt of the gun into his forehead and send him sprawling backward. I press the barrel against his dick. “Try again. Who do you work for?”
“Please,” he groans awkwardly, blood running into his eyes.
“Give me a name.”
“Isak! Isak Vural.” He groans and raises his hands. “Please don’t shoot me.”
“Sick fuck. Your dick’s really that important to you?”
“I’ll talk, okay? I’ll talk, just don’t shoot.”
I resist the urge to do it anyway. Blow this pathetic bastard’s dick to smithereens. How the hell did a pathetic loser like this get the drop on me and survive the fight?
Something doesn’t sit right.
“You knew I was going to be at Hector’s apartment.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. I got a message telling me to be there. That’s all I know!”
“Someone else told you to show up?”
“Yes, someone from Isak’s crew. I don’t know who. They don’t tell me shit!”
“But they knew I was going to be there.”
“Probably. I don’t know.”
I let out a soft, frustrated snarl. “You don’t know much, do you? What fucking use are you?”
“Please,” he whimpers, the pathetic piece of shit.
