I stare at Enzo. He actually hasn't worked it out. His world is full of men who want one thing. He can't even imagine that there’s one who doesn't.
"Oh my god, Enzo! He's gay! He's not sniffing around me. He’s been with more guys than I have!”
Enzo looks at Davo, and without a word, drops him like a sack of potatoes. Davo collapses to the floor, where it looks like he's doing his best not to burst into tears.
I breathe a sigh of relief, thinking the worst is over, but a second later, Enzo’s gun is in his hand, and it’s pointing directly at Davo’s head.
"Why are you here?” He grinds the question out aggressively.
“Enzo…” I whisper the word, wondering how many times I can gasp his name in horror and be ignored. I’m seeing the monster inside the man, standing before me in all his brutal glory. His face has been transformed with cold rage, his handsome features twisted with killer instinct.
“If he doesn't want to fuck you, Mia, then he wants something else,” Enzo says, his voice cold as he cocks the gun with an ominous click.
“Please, don’t kill me," Davo begs. “I came because I saw a guy around here, a guy I know. I’m trying to help you guys. Fucking please don't kill me, I have a cat…"
“Who?”
“His name’s Alejandro Ramirez. He’s the head honcho of the Los Brutos cartel. Real shit. Cut your head off and put it on a turtle, shit. String you up from a bridge with your insides hanging out like streamers shit…”
“We're familiar with their work,” Enzo says, with a curl of his lip which indicates disdain. My father’s men are brutal, but they don’t have the brutal artistry and vicious flair associated with the cartels.
“Right. So he’s here. And he’s looking for her. Mia. He was at the bar tonight. He had her picture and was asking people if they'd seen her. Was saying she's his niece. I came to tell you. Thought you’d want to know.”
Davo’s eye is blackening up, his nose is running red with blood and snot. I don't think I’ve ever seen anything so pathetic before. He's just cowering on the floor, shaking like he expects to be dead any second. I look back at Enzo. He's moved his finger from the trigger, but that doesn't mean Davo’s safe.
It’s when he uncocks the gun that I sigh with relief.
“Get up,” Enzo says. “Mia, get him some coffee and an ice-pack.”
“Now we're serving coffee with our ass beatings?”
Enzo looks over at me and I shut up. He's always been stern, but right now, sassing him feels like a very, very bad idea.I start the coffee. Enzo makes some calls. Davo gets up off the floor. We’re all doing our part.
Ten minutes later, Emilio arrives. Enzo tells him to put his cigarette out before he comes in and then Emilio takes another two minutes to finish it because Emilio is a bit of a dick.
“Here,” I say, giving Davo his coffee. He’s looked pretty banged up, one hand holding an ice pack to his face, the other reaching for his coffee. With my back toward Enzo, I put a big dash of brandy in it, guessing he’s going to need it.
“I’m not gay, by the way,” Davo says as Enzo comes to talk to him. “I’m pansexual."
“I have no idea what the fuck that means,” Enzo growls. “I couldn’t give less of a fuck, either. Tell me more about this Alejandro guy."
“Last summer, he rolled into town with a fuckload of weed,” Davo says. "I mean, so much it was practically free for a while. Lot of dealers got out of the game then, wasn’t worth it.”
“But you stayed in."
“That's when I got my start."
“Not exactly an economic genius, are you?”
Davo shrugs. "I'm in drugs for the sake of drugs. Alejandro was handing out goodie bags like candy. It was awesome.” His mouth attempts to spread in a grin, but he’s got a swollen split lip and it doesn't really work. "So anyway. It was great, for maybe three weeks. Then it got nasty. There was a turf war between him and some of the locals, there was a body count, and Alejandro disappeared. Thought he was dead until I saw him at the bar.”
So someone's coming for me? I’m confused, but I'm not scared. At least, I don't think I am. I know that if there's any real danger, Enzo and my father will protect me.
"Cartels know better than to fuck with us," Emilio says.
“I guess not,” I say. “Because they already came for me. Remember, my apartment got broken into?”
Emilio starts to look guilty. "Okay, so that wasn’t an outside job.”
“What do you mean?” Enzo asks the question in a soft, but dangerous voice. Emilio takes way too long to answer. Uh oh.