Page 46 of Our Tricks

Franco groaned at my feet, clutching his nose looking like he might cry. When he tried to get up, I kicked him in the gut, flopping him on his back then slammed my boot on his chest. This got him to pop his eyes open and look at me.

“Hi,” I greeted with a smile I’m sure had more teeth than was reassuring. “Were you the one who tried to blow me and my husbands up?”

Franco tried to glare at me and shove my boot off him, but Cam appeared and stomped down on his arm. “No touching and answer the question.”

Alvaro was standing a few feet away watching what was happening, eyes wide with fear. He truly was scared shitless of his brother, and the poor kid had to live with the psycho.

“Hey,” I called, drawing his attention. I tossed over the keycard, and I jerked my head down the hall. “Go check on your mom.”

With a jerky nod, he was off, giving us a wide berth as he moved.

“Alvi,” Franco snarled. “If you think you can keep her from Uncle Marco, you’re mistaken. He’ll hunt you both down for this.”

“’Scuse me,” I said, tapping Franco’s cheek with the silencer. “Can I have your attention for just a second?” When he focused on me again, I continued, “Thank you, this won’t take long. I just need you to answer one question for me.”

“I’m not telling you shit,” he spat.

Nodding, I just humored him. “Yeah, that’s what they all say, but you know what I’ve learned? You can always get people to talk if you have the right motivation. The tricky thing for you is you’re only motivated by power and recognition, which I’m not going to give you either. Either way, I’m just going to give this a shot.”

“Go ahead, I ain’t got nothing to say to you,” Franco muttered.

“Oh, by the way, do you have your cell on you?” I asked offhandedly.

Franco instantly moved to check his back pocket then froze his gaze, flicking up to me, clearly understanding what he’d just done.

“You were right, you didn’t need to say anything,” I pointed out. “Cam, help me flip this asshole over.”

Stepping off his chest, Cam grabbed Franco’s left arm and yanked, roughly slamming the man on his face. “Ah fuck, goddamn cocksucking bastards. Do you know who I am?”

“Oh, I’m well aware of who you are, Franco,” I answered, grabbing his wallet and then his phone from the other pocket. “You never answered my question, though.”

“I told you I—”

“Ain’t telling me shit, yeah, yeah, yeah,” I grumbled. “It’s fine. I am eighty-five percent certain you’re the one who tried to blow me up. What I’m now interested in is why? Did you do it to weaken Tommaso, or did Marco ask you for a favor since I cut off his legs here in the US?”

Something seemed to change in Franco like he was finally realizing who I was. Obviously, there was more than one person he’d tried to blow up this week if that hadn’t clued him in. It was apparent that while Franco was ruthless, blood-thirsty, and a little nuts, he didn’t have the smarts. Guess that’s what Mariana meant before.

“You’re that bitch Marco’s been trying to get rid of,” Franco accused as he wriggled to get free, but Cam wasn’t letting him move a muscle as he planted his foot in the middle of his back. “Just because you take me out doesn’t mean you have a chance in hell getting to him.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” I commented as I held up his phone. “You mentioned that he called you. Even if he used a burner phone, we can ping what cell towers were used and give us an area to start looking for him. You’ve just been ever so helpful, Franco.”

“Dax,” Eagle bellowed as he rounded the corner. “What the hell is going on? Who the fuck is that?”

The rest of my guys were right behind him, all armed with guns.

“This is Franco,” I said, gesturing to the wriggling man. “Franco, these are my husbands you tried to blow up the other night.”

“I never admitted to that,” Franco snapped.

He had a point, not once had he admitted it. “Fine, you haven’t fessed up to it, but I bet if we ask Alvaro, he’ll tell us.”

“He won’t be able to tell you shit. That boy is a fucking pussy and could never have the stomach it takes to do what needs doing. No, that gets left to me. Someone has to do the dirty work, and I find that knowing they see the bomb before it goes off tells them just who the fuck sent it,” Franco announced.

Frowning, I looked at Cam. “What’s he talking about?”

“He’s saying he leaves a signature on all his bombs, so people know who sent it to them,” Cam explained.

I thought about the bomb and couldn’t see anything about it that would be left as a calling card. “Well, it’s not a good one because I don’t remember anything about that bomb other than it was on a fucking bed of lettuce.”