Truths and Lies Duet

“Save your girl talk for later, ladies. We have an interrogation to attend. Are Felix and the team inside yet?”

Adrian nods. “They’ve staked out the whole building and have it surrounded. We have a clear shot to go inside on your call, Kostas. Room 414.”

“Let’s go,” I command, climbing out of the car and pulling out my H&K .45. The wind is whistling harder now as the storm rolls in, and rain sprinkles on my face.

Adrian stalks forward and I step aside to let Talia come between us. Her eyes are wide and worried, but she’s also eager too. I guess she really was bored as fuck if she’d rather come do this. As we creep down the hallway toward the stairwell, I can’t help but replay our fight.

My parents never fought.

At least not that I knew of.

Clearly, their fight was more like a war. Long lasting, no one wins, everyone damn near dies.

Mother is dead, Father nearly died, and Niles will die.

Whatever my parents had wasn’t normal. A small glimmer of delight flitters through me. The stupid as shit argument Talia and I had was as normal as they come. My entire life I’ve lived an extraordinary life—one written in other men’s blood and my father’s endless supply of money. I used to watch the kids who’d come to the hotel with their families and they were happy. They were free to splash around at the pool, surf, and play sports. Aris and I? We watched as our father lectured about the importance of organized crime, dressed in our expensive-ass suits, and secretly wished for one day to be normal kids.

I never thought much about my future or my own kids. But the more I allow my mind to wander there, now that I have Talia as my wife, I can’t help but want them to have some normalcy. Talia grew up with her mom and was happy. I’m sure she did what all teenage girls did—crushed over boys, went shopping at the mall, and watched rom-coms. She very well could have been one of the carefree girls at the hotel diving into the pool hunting for plastic rings at the bottom.

I’m tired of being an outsider.

I want something genuine.

Fighting with Talia is both maddening and refreshing. She runs her mouth in ways that would get most men killed, but with her? I fucking stare at her, imagining all the naughty things I could do to her sassy mouth.

What was I thinking bringing her here?

As we reach the fourth floor, she smiles over her shoulder at me. So out of place. She looks like a fucking college girl on her way to toilet paper a frat house. Fuck. This is a mistake. I grab her bicep, ready to turn her back around, when Adrian wastes no time kicking the apartment door in.

“Stay close,” I bark at Talia, shoving her right behind me as I raise my weapon.

Her fingers clutch the back of my shirt as we stalk along the hallway toward the doorway where Adrian went inside. As soon as I creep around the corner, I see he’s in a scuffle with a tubby fucker.

They’re grunting, but Adrian has two hundred pounds of solid muscle on this big boy. Adrian clocks him hard in the jaw, sending the man stumbling back onto the bed.

“That’s Estevan?” I ask, walking inside the room, curling my lip at him.

“Yep,” Adrian grunts out.

Estevan swipes blood from his lip and glowers at me. For a man in his position, he should be begging, knowing what’s coming to him. “You killed my brothers,” Estevan sneers, confirming his identity.

“Fire killed Bakken,” I say, holding up one palm in defense, my gun still trained on him.

“Fire that you ordered,” Estevan hisses. His eyes dart just past me and his brows furrow. “Who the fuck is this bitch?”

I tense and crack my neck. “A ghost. Someone you can’t fucking see or talk to. You keep looking at her and I’ll relieve you of your goddamn eyes.”

Estevan snorts out a laugh, his attention back on me. “You’re going to kill me anyway, Demetriou.”

“I might let you live,” I taunt. “For the right information.”

“You. Killed. My. Brothers.”

“Technically, Cy did it to himself,” I say with a smirk.

Talia makes a small choking sound behind me, earning Estevan’s creepy stare.

“Listen,” I say as I walk into the room, nearing the bed. If he moves, I’ll put a bullet through his throat. “I just want answers.”

“I’m not talking to you.”

Petulant fucking man-child.

“Tell him what I did to Cy, moró mou.” I turn and give her a nod.

“He, uh,” she stammers. “H-He cut off his foot and beat him to death with it.”

Estevan’s face turns purple. “You motherfucker.”

“The motherfucker,” I correct. “The motherfucker who can end you with a bullet to the head before you can even glance at my wife one more time. But I’m giving you a chance here, man. Tell me who put the hit out on my father. You do that and I’ll let you go.” I motion toward the balcony.