Gunnar flicked a look at me that was equal parts frustration and amusement before he switched his gaze back to the little man with the chunky psychopath at his side. “Since I was knocked out when we got here, and we haven’t left this fucking room, you’re gonna have to tell me, Jefe.”
Carlito sighed and crossed his arms before uncrossing them self-consciously. “We’re in Mexico,” he conceded. “Now, I need you to get this shipment from this side of the border all the way up to Reno.”
“And for this, we get to get the fuck outta here?”
Carlito nodded and Gunnar scoffed. “So much for this being about your bitch.”
Then Guapo hit him again, right in the face and it only made Gunnar smile. “Watch your mouth.”
“Get this rope off me and then say that.” His voice pitched low, lethal even, and Carlito took a step back. Guapo took a step forward but it was a mistake because Gunnar had spent every free second he had loosening the ropes. The crazy fucker had dislocated his thumb last night trying to loosen them enough that he could slip in and out of them with ease. One of his legs was free now, too. Thanks to the rickety ass chair that could barely hold his weight. As soon as Guapo was close enough, Gunnar swept his foot forward, catching the creep until he was on the ground. His head hit with a sickening crack. “Bad move, Guapo.”
“Get up!” Carlito shouted at his henchman, the panic in his voice bouncing off the walls as he took another step back. And another. And another fucking step.
Pussy.
“I said get up, motherfucker! Get. Up!”
Guapo tried but Gunnar had unleashed the beast, cracking his now free hand against the arm of the chair until the wood snapped and freed his other hand. Then the crazy bastard broke the rest of the chair over Guapo’s back until it was in shards all around him. “Yeah, Guapo. Get. The. Fuck. Up!” He roared like a man possessed, urging Guapo to his feet while Carlito yelled in the background.
Carlito moved away, one step at a time, but he was too focused on Gunnar and Guapo to remember me until he tripped over my legs. “You motherfucker!” He scrambled up on all fours before struggling to his feet in those slippery ass bitch heels he wore.
“You’ll regret that.” He sneered, his eyes narrow and menacing. The fucker was a goddamn contradiction; equal parts terrifyingly cold and scared of his own fucking shadow. “I doubt it.” I spat out.
Carlito rushed to the door, pounding on it with his fists and speaking in very fast, panicked Spanish.
When the door opened, he stumbled back and shouted an order to the two armed men who couldn’t have been more than twenty or twenty-one years old. “Rapido!” He turned his dark, icy glare back to me. “We could have done this the easy way.”
“Easy?” Gunnar’s question came out as a feral roar as he landed one last sickening blow to Guapo’s face, rendering the man unconscious. “The easy way would have involved asking, not fucking kidnapping or attempted fucking murder!”
Carlito scoffed but kept his distance and I couldn’t say I blamed him. At all. Right now Gunnar was the more terrifying of the two. “If I wanted you dead, you would be dead.”
“Maybe so,” Gunnar snapped, “but we ain’t dead yet, are we? And now you need something from us so it seems like all your talk about your precious side piece was nothing more than bullshit so you could find two errand boys.”
Guapo finally stood with a grunt and Gunnar looked over his shoulder before sending an elbow flying at his nose. He flashed a satisfied smile when the man went down, leaving droplets of blood flying all around.
Carlito shook his head in disgust and turned to me with a malicious grin that twisted his features. “Errand boys, I like the sound of that. Particularly because I have something you want.”
Gunnar barked out a laugh. “I can assure you that you don’t have shit I want.”
Carlito’s lips curled up and a chill went through me. “Maybe not you, but your friend and I seem to have the same taste in women.” He snapped his fingers twice and one of the armed men appeared with a hand squeezing Marisol’s arm tight enough to make her cry out. I struggled not to go after the bastard for pushing her to the groun
d. “Ah yes, I thought this might get your attention.” He grabbed that same arm and yanked Marisol to her feet.
“She has nothing to do with me,” Gunnar spat out, glaring at me and daring me to disagree. I knew I shouldn’t, that choosing her could mean war with a fucking cartel but looking at her, bruised and bloody and shaken, how could I leave her to that fate? I wasn’t that fucking cold.
“It would seem that your friend would disagree.” Carlito seemed way too pleased with himself, until six feet six inches of angry Gunnar in all his baldheaded glory stalked his way, then he took a step back.
“Then that’s between you and him. It’s got fuck all to do with me.” A sliver of unease ran through me at how fast Gunnar was walking. He was either deadly fucking serious or on a suicide mission and considering he had his baby sister to think about, the only option was deadly fucking serious.
Carlito shouted, “Stop him!”
One of the armed men stepped into Gunnar’s path but before he could aim his M4 Carbine, Gunnar had the man pressed against the wall, his feet dangling about three inches from the ground with nothing but his own gun at his throat to keep him from falling.
“Yeah, stop me.” Gunnar’s voice was low and menacing but his movements were calm. Calculated.
Gunnar meant business but so did Carlito if Marisol’s swollen eye had anything to do with it. He gripped her hair and pulled hard enough that she fell to her knees in pain.
“Gunnar!” I shouted.