Tug (Irreparable 3)

“It was painted from a photograph the day my daughter was born.”

My hand shakes mildly as I extend it in his direction.

“Mr. Torrente, I presume. It’s a pleasure to — ”

His grip is firm as he shakes my hand. Nerves fire through me with so much intensity, I’m sure he can feel the vibration through my skin.

“I know who you are, Mr. Hunter. Gibson Capital is a global company, and I do have friends with legitimate businesses.”

His tense lips relax, but he doesn’t smile.

“Please accept my apology for coming to your home unannounced, but I wanted to speak with you in person,” I say, surprised with how relaxed my voice sounds, considering my insides are convulsing wildly and I feel nauseous.

“Shall we talk?” he asks, motioning for me to walk with him. We enter a sitting area, and he tells me to sit down. The white leather sofa squeaks when I sit. After I decline a drink, he pours himself one and says, “So, you have information for me about Eduardo Montez.”

“Yes, sir, I do. He approached my firm about investing some money, and the amounts are from large overseas accounts. I had my team look into who he was and discovered a connection to you. The amounts are staggered in a way that suggests he’s skimming from you.”

The ice cubes clank against the edge of the glass as he sips his drink. The condensation beading on the outside of the glass is thick and as it trickles down the side, I realize my hands are sweating profusely, and I wipe them on my slacks. He sets the glass down and rubs his chin. “Mr. Montez has always paid me.”

I inhale slowly, preparing the bluff of a lifetime. My ability to negotiate with people and blur reality has made me and Gibson a success, but this isn’t a typical meeting, or a mainstream client, and I feel sweat wetting my collar, dripping down my spine.

“That is what he’s led you to believe, but I think he distributes slightly higher than what he’s reporting to you. Not enough to be noticeable, but because of the quantity, a nice amount that’s grown over the years.”

His expression gives nothing away as he snaps his fingers toward a giant of a man, dressed in army fatigues who I hadn’t noticed was filling the doorway. The man approaches him and he says, “Check this out.”

The man leaves, and Mr. Torrente takes another swig off his drink. He dries his lips on the back of his free hand. I can tell by his slightly squinted eyes, he’s processing my words carefully, but that he doubts Eduardo and is worried what I said might be accurate.

“I met Eduardo when he was just a small boy. He is the son of my best friend here in Mexico, a poor man who refused to work with me even though he knew I could make him a wealthy man. When Eduardo was seventeen, his father died, and he begged me to give him a job, to make him a man. One of my top guys in America was stealing from me. I told Eduardo if he went to the States and found this man, I would put him in charge of his own territory. Three days later, the thief’s head showed up in a box at my house. Now you want me to believe that this same boy who would murder for me, my best friend’s son, would steal from me?”

I fear I’ve read this man wrong, but I remain focused. “Yes, sir. People change.”

His expression taunts me. He regards me as though I’m prey, like a mouse he’s luring to its death with tiny scraps of cheese.

“What’s in it for you, Mr. Hunter? I would think the commission you stand to make from a deal with Montez would be substantial.”

I could lie and kiss his ass, tell him I was looking out for his interests, but I don’t. “It’s personal for me.”

His lips curl slightly, but I wouldn’t say he smiles. He holds his glass up in mock toast. “Ah. Let me guess. A woman, Mr. Hunter?”

“A young girl at the time he raped and abused her.”

The right side of his top lip lifts, and he shakes his head.

“Young men in the cartel these days don’t know how to behave. The power’s gone to their heads, but I cannot control this. I need them to be ruthless and stonehearted. It benefits me a great deal when my staff do

esn’t possess empathy.”

I stand from the couch, feeling brave and take a step toward him.

“I understand, but Maria is with me now. She had to leave the Bay Area to escape him, and I want him out of her life.”

“Maria?” His question is asked with sincere curiosity.

“Yes, my girlfriend. He claims she — ”

“What is her last name?”

“Santiago.”