Gilded Agony

by K. A. Merikan

  Had he forgotten about their anniversary?

  And the fucking zombie TV show was on, giving Seth even more stupid survivalist ideas.

  Seth turned his head and looked up at Dom with his eyes barely open. “Wha tam is…?”

  He made no sense. Domenico clutched the back of the sofa harder, because he wanted to shake Seth so bad he would have caused damage.

  This wasn’t even the first time Domenico had found him like this.

  He rubbed his face and exhaled loudly, trying to fight through the wave of bitter disappointment. This was his prize for all the hard work he put into keeping them safe and happy? “Let’s go upstairs. You need to lie in bed,” he said and approached the sofa from the front. He unceremoniously dragged Seth up by the arms, but with him having gained so much muscle recently, it was no easy feat.

  Seth wrapped his arms around Dom loosely, but struggled on his feet. How much had he drunk? Dom spotted the offending rum bottle when it rolled by his feet, and the distinctive scent coming from Seth only confirmed Domenico’s suspicions.

  “Um fine here,” Seth mumbled but let himself be led.

  Domenico pulled Seth’s arm over his shoulders and forced him to walk. The scent of liquor was so overpowering he breathed with his mouth rather than his nose during the climb up the stairs, which constituted the most difficult part of the journey. When Seth eventually rolled onto the mattress, Domenico’s shoulders ached from the effort.

  He considered helping Seth out of his jeans, but there was only so much torment a man could take. Seth’s heavy breaths meant he was at least now suffering for his own stupidity, but that was hardly a consolation.

  Still, Domenico brought a plastic bowl and a glass of water to Seth’s side of the bed before climbing into a shower that didn’t manage to rinse away any of his disappointment.

  In the dark, listening to Seth’s irregular breathing, he fed on a pack of cookies.

  Chapter 3 - Mark

  Most days, Mark enjoyed his life in El Encanto.

  This wasn’t one of those days.

  The stolen cargo left a five-million-sized hole in Toro’s finances—since they’d already sent the cash to Santo Villani. But while the robbery was a major setback, it wasn’t what had really turned everyone into a swarm of frantic hornets that chased down anyone who could have even the vaguest idea of what had happened. The real issue was how the robbery could potentially impact further business. Five-million-worth of guns was a lot of guns, and many of Toro’s clients would have gladly received their cargo the day before they even ordered.

  There was no room for such a massive gap in the stream of goods. If they couldn’t get their hands on the thieves, there would be far bigger problems on their hands than cash flow. It was about losing the trust of their clients, and what was even more important—their respect. With the majority of the stolen shipment having been meant for their most important partner—and the alpha dog of all the cartels—Raul Moreno, Domenico was rightfully in a frenzy.

  It’d been a while since Mark had seen him so agitated, so close to going beyond the kind of aggressive anger everyone was equally frightened of as they were of Domenico’s deceptive cool. At times, Mark wondered if his adoptive father didn’t miss the comfort of not having to shoulder so much responsibility.

  After the grim discovery, Toro’s soldiers had dispersed, some driving boats upstream, others engaged in a chaotic search on land. Split into groups to cover as much terrain as possible, they made sure to turn over every stone in their way. It was only natural, because all their lives depended on how well the organization fared. If it collapsed, many of the foot soldiers would end up with nothing.

  After an entire day without a breakthrough, it was already dark when Mark drove through El Encanto, feeding on a pack of chocolate wafers, because there hadn’t been a single moment when he’d felt entitled to a lunch break. He hit the brakes abruptly when he recognized the surname on the fence in front of a modest yet tidy-looking house with a front garden.

  With the wafer stuffed deep into his mouth, Mark left the car and stormed his way through the gate, straight for the entrance. He pressed on the handle before he could start knocking but was surprised to find the door unlocked. Music must have muted his entry, because there were no questions or greetings coming Mark’s way as he made his way down the corridor, toward the source of the melody. It was only when he got closer that he noticed Manuel Bueno’s voice accompanying the vocals of the female singer. Out of tune and heavy from years of smoking, it sounded raspy, but at least the ugly noise meant he was there. Mark had personally attempted to contact Bueno on the phone throughout the day, but the bastard wouldn’t answer, and he hadn’t been home before either. Or so it had seemed.

  Mark could walk as silently as Domenico when he wanted to, but there was no need for it this time. Oblivious to the danger creeping behind his back, Bueno sat in front of the television in his living room, moving his feet to the tune coming from the receiver and blowing out thick white smoke every time he uttered a phrase.

  Mark only spoke when he stood right behind the man and looked straight at the balding tip of his head.

  “There you are. Funny how no one could get a hold of you all day.”

  Bueno dashed out of the chair, spinning in a graceless pirouette that sent his corpulent body straight at the TV. The modern device that had been paid for with Toro’s bribes wobbled slightly upon impact but didn’t fall.

  With his eyes locked with Bueno’s, Mark extinguished the man’s fallen cigarette with his shoe.

  “W-what is this?” Bueno uttered eventually, his lips trembling slightly under the thick moustache.

  Mark watched Bueno for sudden movements, but there would be none if the man knew what was good for him. “Just a friendly visit. Though it could get much less friendly if you don’t tell me what I want to hear.”

  Bueno gulped air so fast Mark half-expected him to go into a panic attack. “W-what do you want from me, Mr. Vincitore? Would you like a drink?” he asked nervously and quickly paced toward a wooden cupboard.

  “Sure, we could talk over a drink.” Mark followed him at a distance. Men pushed too far reacted irrationally sometimes, and Mark wasn’t about to end up with broken glass in his neck. Domenico had taught him that for some people the stories about what had happened to the former Toro’s men were enough in terms of intimidation.

  “So … what is this about? I made sure you won the competition to build the new sports hall in town. Is anyone making trouble for you?” he asked and unlocked the collapsible door in the middle of the cupboard with a shaky hand.

  This would not be a polite conversation. Mark knew as much even before Bueno abruptly turned around, swinging his long arm forward with a knife in hand.

  “The fuck is this, huh?” Mark pulled back with seconds to spare and grabbed Bueno’s thick wrist, pressing his thumb into the bundle of nerves at the base of his hand.

  It wasn’t that difficult to disarm a fifty-something local government official with no experience in combat, and the knife fell straight into Mark’s other hand.

  Bueno’s eyes got even wider, and he helplessly pulled back, knocking into the cupboard, which sent a whole collection of delicate liquor, and wine glasses, to the floor. “No … this is a mistake, Mr. Vincitore. What is this visit? I did nothing to offend you!”

  “How about your brother though? When’s the last time you saw him?” Mark wasn’t about to bother with Bueno trying to run as his next means of defence, so he pulled out a chair from behind a little table and pointed to it.

  “My brother? Axel?” Bueno asked, looking between Mark and the chair as if fear had enfolded his brain and he could no longer make logical decisions.

  “Yep. I heard he was seen here yesterday.” A lie, but it was always better to pretend you knew more than you did. “Sit, Bueno.”

  The man did as told, moving so rapidly he almost fell over. “What? I’ve not seen him since Easter. He’s in the jungle.�
�

  Mark leaned down and pulled on Bueno’s arms harshly to cuff him to the back of the chair. Dom had shown him techniques to get out of conundrums like this, but Mark highly doubted Bueno would be physically capable of pulling them off. He circled the man slowly to stand in front of him.

  “Where in the jungle?”

  Bueno licked his lips. In the cool glow of the TV screen, his swarthy face glistened with sweat. “He’s in this environment protection club. They have a camp somewhere down the river.” A second passed before he must have realized what he’d done and leaned forward with pleading eyes. “Mr. Vincitore, please. My brother is an eccentric man, but he surely meant no disrespect. What did he do?”

  “There may be hope for him if he cooperates. His group has infuriated Toro, and you know how he can get when he’s angry. I need you to get him here, and I need you to point out his whereabouts on a map.” This was going swimmingly. For good measure, Mark started playing with Bueno’s knife.

  The man’s eyes were instantly drawn to the blade. “But … I don’t know where it is. They come to town for provisions only once every few months.”

  “He’s your brother. I’m sure you have ways of contacting him?”

  Bueno opened his mouth twice, only to suddenly break into a sob. “I don’t know where he is, I swear! Only that it takes him a day to travel here from the camp.”

  Mark logged that information in his brain and scooted in front of Bueno, gently pressing the tip of the knife to his thigh. “I know it’s difficult to give him up, he’s your brother, but I assure you that if he cooperates, no harm will come his way.” Not exactly the truth, because if they found out Axel was involved in stealing the shipment, he’d be gutted and fed to caimans. No one stole from Toro and his family. You let a thing like this slide once, and disrespect becomes an avalanche.

  Bueno let out a hitched breath and lowered his leg, flattening it against the seat as much as possible in a vain attempt to escape the knife. “But Mr. Vincitore, I don’t know. I really don’t! I swear I’ll cooperate however I can.”

  “Who else knows where your brother is? I want names and phone numbers. Bueno, this isn’t a game, and it’s not about a couple hundred bucks either. Axel is in deep shit unless you help us find him.”

  Bueno’s breath came in a progression of sobs, and he shook his head. “I don’t know. He comes and goes as he pleases. Mr. Vincitore, I want to cooperate—”

  Mark shot up and punched Bueno in the face with the handle of the knife still in his hand. “I’m done with this bullshit, Bueno! I want to know everything about Axel. Do you understand?”

  The balding head jerked to the side before rolling back to Bueno’s nape. The handle of the knife must had torn the skin of Bueno’s lip, because blood drizzled down the side of his face. His eyes wide as saucers, he shook violently and howled. “No…. Mr. Vincitore I swear I know nothing! I am loyal. I just… there’s nothing I can say.”

  Mark prepared for another punch, but a slight creak in the corridor made him still. He turned the knife in his fingers, ready to pull out his gun if need be as well, but the woman who stepped into the room had his lips parting and his brain freezing for half a second.

  “Angie, this doesn’t concern you. You need to leave.”

  The bag she had hung over her shoulder thumped to the floor as she leaned against the doorframe, long bare legs clearly softening at the sight of her husband cuffed and bleeding.

  “Honey?” she asked in a weak pitch.

  Bueno shook his head and Mark wished he could crawl out of his skin. “Go, please.”

  “No!” She stepped closer, holding on to the door frame for support, but her dark eyes were focused on Mark. “What are you thinking? This is not the way to go about this!”

  Mark bit the inside of his cheek to stop a groan of frustration. “This has nothing to do with you. You need to leave.”

  She didn’t listen, of course, and traversed the floor in her espadrille wedges and that same miniskirt she’d worn when she’d once asked Mark for a hand with a broken boiler, only to seduce him for dessert. He now knew it had all been a trick to get him inside her home while her husband was away. Not that he’d minded, since she was hot with her long hair and round ass, but right now her presence was inconvenient, to put it mildly.

  “This has everything to do with me! It’s you who should leave!”

  “Angie, I beg you!” Bueno whined, so Mark slapped him for good measure.

  “Shut up!”

  Too bad Angie wasn’t taking the hint either and threw herself at him with her long, colorful claws. “Don’t touch my husband, you pig!”

  Mark grabbed her wrists in frustration and tried to push her at the wall without causing too much damage. “You didn’t seem to have this much love for him just last week.”

  Bueno, who’d been previously reduced to shivers, suddenly became more attentive. His red-smeared lips were already swelling on one side as he spoke, gaze fixed on his wife. “Angie? What is he talking about?”

  She blinked, tossing back her golden mane in a gesture that Mark noticed she always made when nervous. “I don’t know. But he should back off, or else I’ll… talk to your father about this,” she warned, pinning Mark with her gaze. Now that her face was tense, the shallow crow’s feet around her eyes deepened. “This is abuse. He won’t stand for bothering a good man!”

  Mark’s brain exploded with fury, and he stepped back just to point the knife at Bueno. “Good man? Didn’t you say he smacked you just last month?”

  “That’s no reason to kill him, you jealous bastard!” She grabbed a bowl of fruit and threw it at him, but Mark ducked and it was Bueno who got hit on the head with an orange. “Even if you kill him, you can never have me!”

  Mark had enough of this family drama and swooped her over his shoulder in one quick move. “I’m not killing him. And you’re the one who was gagging for my dick in the first place, so don’t play the innocent!”

  Bueno roared from his chair with renewed energy. “What? What the hell is this? You spread your legs for that… boy?” he yelled in fury while Mark twisted around the room with Angie thrashing over his shoulder. He only had one set of cuffs, so he’d have to use something else to tie her down.

  Curtain rope.

  A burning hot sensation bit his back when Angie sank her long nails into his flesh, twisting in his arms like an eel about to stun him with electricity. “Let me go, you bastard! Leave us alone. I can’t believe I even looked at you!”

  Bueno must have fallen over with the chair, because a loud bang was followed by muffled screams. “You slut! I’m gonna choke you both!” he screamed, even though he was in no position to even kick Mark.

  What a fucking cockup. Mark was glad Domenico wasn’t here to witness this mess. He had enough on his plate already. “Shut your fucking face!” He slammed Angie onto the dinner table and pulled her arms up to loop the ties around her wrists, but it only reminded him of when he’d fucked her in the exact same position last week.

  “I will not be silenced!” She yelled even as he quickly tied her ankles for good measure. “You’re ruining my life!”

  “I’m here on business!” Mark raised his arms in frustration once she was bound, but even that wouldn’t give him a second of peace.

  Bueno bared his teeth from the floor and twitched closer with the chair. “The business of fucking my wife? You might as well kill me now, because I will wreck you!”

  “Let’s not get so dramat—”

  “I will cut your balls off with a rusty knife!”

  Angie caught Mark’s gaze, and it seemed that she only now understood this wasn’t in any way connected to her. “Mark? What did he do? Please, don’t hurt him. He’ll tell you everything he knows.”

  “Shut up, bitch. I’m twice the man this twenty-year old boy is. Can’t believe he was interested in an old bag like you!” roared Bueno, making Angie’s face flush. She twisted under Mark.

  “Look who’s talk
ing! Fat, smells like an ashtray, and sweats beer. Fuck you, Manuel!”

  Mark rubbed his temples. Usually, he would not take these kind of insults, but the situation here was highly strung, so he’d let it go. “Listen, you two. I’m done here for today. I’ll let you talk it out, and have one of our men come over to set you free in an hour. Bueno, if you remember something about your brother, let us know. There will be a fat prize.” At this point, he just wanted to get out of this goddamn house.

  “What? So that you can fuck my brother too?” Bueno spat at Mark’s shoe, so Mark stepped closed and wiped it on his T-shirt.

  “Why? Is he hot?”

  That shut Bueno up, and he huffed.

  “Don’t you dare show your face here again!” Angie yelled after him when Mark was leaving.

  “Oh, don’t worry, you’ll never see my dick again!”

  Mark lit himself a cigarette outside, and once he was sure no one was there to witness it, he hit his forehead against the wall of the house. He couldn’t believe his interrogation had turned into such a failure.

  The neighborhood the Buenos lived in was peaceful at night, but he could hear a distant rhythm coming from farther away, and the occasional barking of a dog. It was nine in the evening, and whatever chance they’d had to find out the truth today was just a thin thread in their fingers at this point.

  With the cigarette dangling from his mouth, Mark sat in his car and dialed Domenico’s number. The call was picked up almost instantly.

  “Did you find out anything?” Domenico asked, his voice sharp as a razorblade.

  “Only that Axel comes down from the Lungs camp once every few months, and that it’s somewhere down the river, a day’s travel away by boat. I believe he’s telling the truth and doesn’t know anything more.”

  Domenico’s exhale made the line crackle. “It’s not looking good. I’ll need to call Moreno and tell him his precious statues have been lost in transport,” Domenico said, using a simple code in case anyone was listening on to their conversation. One could never be too careful.