Bloodbath

by K. A. Merikan

  Seth slid his fingers into his hair and pulled at it. “I don’t want it. I don’t want to hear about this. Stop. Talking. If you need to go without me, then just go.”

  Domenico exhaled, at loss. “I know it’s not pleasant, but I need to know you’re gonna be safe no matter what. Listen carefully. The code is sixteen letters. First my birthdate, in the American format. Swap each number for a letter. Then, your birthdate in Italian format. Swap numbers for letters, this time counting from the end of the alphabet.”

  Seth bit his lips, staying silent for far too long. Domenico had to go.

  “Fuck. You,” Seth whispered, but it didn’t sound violent at all. Helpless, if anything.

  Domenico swallowed hard. “My birthdate is on the inner side of the signet exchanged with you. The one from my moth—”

  “I know when your fucking birthday is!”

  Domenico swallowed, looking at Seth with longing. “If you’re safe, it means I’ve succeeded,” he said, only now noticing that his voice dropped.

  Seth didn’t say another word, just staring at Domenico with tension oozing off him. He started rubbing his thumb against the signet nervously. Domenico swallowed. He knew he had to go, but all he wanted was for the time to stand still forever. He couldn’t allow himself that.

  “You’re my husband, so all I own is yours. Be careful,” Dom added.

  Seth leaned in for a kiss, hiding it from their audience with his arm, but he pulled away all too quickly.

  Domenico smiled, sensing the warmth on his lips, and opened the door. “Be careful,” he said and left without another word. The softness of the kiss settled in his chest when he ran down the corridor, then past another, and another, until he slipped through a single door between the signal-dead part of the villa and Toro’s expensive status symbol of a house.

  The night was as dark as it was warm and thick with humid air. One of Toro’s men lay on the floor in the kitchen, sleeping as if he’d taken horse tranquilizers. Domenico wasn’t sure what happened, only now realizing how oddly quiet it was. Was this... Dana’s doing? Sneaky, deadly like the viper she was in her heart, yet sometimes so deeply thoughtful it made him smile. The man was snoring, and Dom could bet his hand that Dana did not kill them with poison in the first place just because she wasn’t sure if that was what Dom would have wanted.

  He put his phone on silent mode, so that he would not be heard if someone called, but it came with the disadvantage of not being readily available for new information Dana could send him, and Domenico kept glancing at the screen even as he listened to check whether the rotor was already working. He’d wasted far too much time on the chat with Seth.

  He imagined most of the men would be busy with the explosives and whatever carnage they left behind, but the sleeping bodies were piling up in front of Domenico as he moved through the dark rooms, wary of every shadow.

  The faint sound of his soles rubbing against the floor remained the only noise hanging in the air as he walked through a scenery reminiscent of Sleeping Beauty’s castle. Dana, the evil fairy, had put an enchantment over the whole court, trapping all the knights, ladies, and servants in a dreamless slumber.

  The silence around him was unnerving because he knew it didn’t necessarily mean that he was alone. There might be more people like him, ones who hadn’t been drugged, or possibly had too little to get all groggy and fall asleep on the floor. They too would be apprehensive, afraid of any sound coming their way, and all too ready to pull the trigger.

  Still, he managed to get to the garden doors without meeting anyone, and he sneaked out toward the bushes to not become a target for anyone watching from the windows. The air outside was even thicker, damp and hot like the inside of a crocodile’s stomach. The house he left behind was so dark Dana must have disabled the electricity somehow, maybe with one of the explosives. Even the lights that usually illuminated the garden and pool were off, leaving only the few that were solar-powered. And thank fuck for those, because there was no moon or stars to be seen in the sky.

  Domenico licked his lips, glancing to the dark silhouette on the flat surface of the landing. In the darkness, the helicopter was just a shape, but it was darker than its surroundings and seemed to suck out any available light from the background. Domenico swallowed. Far away, on the Western side of the wall surrounding the property he could still see a soft blaze of fire, but that didn’t concern him now. He moved gingerly, intent on reaching the helicopter before Toro, but the moment a scream tore through the night, he dropped into the muddy grass like a puppet no one wanted to direct anymore.

  On the backdrop of the dark sky, a man ran hunched down, sobbing out words Domenico couldn’t understand. He sounded frantic, but someone else emerged from behind a van that stood in the middle of the courtyard. Shots were fired, and the loudmouth fell like a log. Domenico stayed still, watching the shooter glance left and right, only to rush into the car, which started running two seconds later before speeding through the open gate.

  Toro’s men were leaving the ship already. Like rats, they could sense something was off, and they would not be staying to find out if they got to live or die. Wise choice, because if Domenico got his say in it, it would be the latter.

  He waited a few more seconds, looking around from under a small tree he hid behind, but there was no movement to be seen, so he grabbed the opportunity and sprinted toward the helicopter, thanking God for his luck in a short prayer. He was there first.

  It was a small machine, only large enough to accommodate four persons, but in the dark he could hide inside the cabin just fine. He wondered if it had been Dana who left it unlocked, but then again he bet the majority of Toro’s goons had no knowledge of piloting helicopters anyway. The cockpit stank of artificial lemon fragrance, and Domenico begrudgingly glared at a tree-shaped paper tassel attached to a little hook on the narrow divide between the front and back seats.

  Now he could pretend he was in a taxi.

  He scooted in the back, by the parachutes, and put a blanket over himself to appear like he was part of the pile. He didn’t like this kind of silence. It was as if the whole town had gone quiet in response to the chaos at Toro’s mansion, and the darkness seemed so absolute he wouldn’t be surprised if the whole local electricity supply had been compromised. Was everyone listening on, like he was, waiting for something to happen?

  He moved uncomfortably, disturbed by how hot the blankets were making him already. There were four seats in total in the helicopter. If Dana took care of Toro, Domenico needed to put down up to two men, but he hoped the element of surprise would tip the scales in his favor.

  He stiffened when a sharp ringing cut through the air. It was steady and repetitive, like the old school kind of phone with a rotary dial. Slowly, Domenico uncovered his head, only to see a blinking light by one of the rear seats, winking at him on the side of a handset to signal an incoming call.

  For several moments, he just listened, looking into the darkness to make sure he hasn’t been spotted, but there wasn’t much beyond the walls of the helicopter that he could see. Eventually, he leaned forward to look at the screen. It was an unknown number.

  It wasn’t just curiosity that was making his fingers itch to answer. More importantly, he was desperate to find out if whoever was calling could be of use in apprehending Toro or gaining more intel. And then, the ringing could let someone know of him being there even if it wasn’t his phone. Maybe he should turn the damn thing off?

  He leaned forward to snatch the handset, but he made his decision in the spur of the moment and pressed the green button to pick up the call.

  The person on the other side was silent for a while, but then the digitally distorted voice made Domenico’s hairs bristle. “This is Tropico. I heard your organization has been compromised. Our deal is off.” Then the call disconnected.

  Domenico blinked, staring at the phone with his head completely empty. He frantically tried to call back, but the device did not recognize the number, and
Domenico groaned, hitting himself on the forehead with the handset before putting the thing back.

  “Shit. Fuck.” Dana did say Toro had dealings with Tropico, but clearly Tropico himself had an informer in here too. Damned bastard was even harder to get to than Raul Moreno was.

  Tropico was Domenico’s target. His ticket home and a personal vendetta for sending bloodhounds after him and Seth. It made Dom see red that he couldn’t just get his hands on that motherfucker. But there was nothing he could do now. The elusive Mr. Tropico had once again slipped out of Dom’s grasp, like the slimiest of eels.

  He hid under the blanket again as soon as he heard a car approach and then stop with a screech of tires. The phone started ringing again.

  Domenico waited. His gun was ready to be used, and he squinted to see something at least through the blanket resting over his head, but nothing happened. The car stopped very close by, but there was no movement to be heard, no voices. Just the damn phone.

  Domenico felt sweat beading on his back while he listened to the ringing until it eventually died. Dom took a deep breath, but as he was about to slowly peek out and see what was going on, Toro’s voice carried through the empty grounds.

  “Pick up the phone. We know you’re in there!”

  It was as if a fist clenched around Domenico’s throat, and he waited for two more seconds, flinching when the phone went off again. What were the odds that Dana had chosen to betray him? Has she been compromised? Regardless of the way Toro had found out about Domenico’s presence in the helicopter, the game had been flipped on its head, and if Domenico wanted to gain the upper hand again, he needed to play a round by Toro’s rules.

  Slowly, he grabbed the handset and picked up the call.

  “Talk,” he said in Spanish. There was still a chance Toro didn’t know who waited for him in the helicopter.

  There was a pause, but then Toro spoke. “For future reference, don’t answer phones that don’t belong to you. Now get out of my chopper. If you don’t, I will shower it with bullets until one hits you. I have enough gun power and enough money to afford another chopper, so if you want to live, get the fuck out!”

  Domenico licked his lips and looked at his trusty Beretta. He had only one spare magazine, and a knife on him, and he didn’t see any weapons in here otherwise. Even if there were secret compartments, Toro likely wasn’t alone.

  He had no chance. Yet another round of the game had been won by Toro.

  “Fine. I will get out,” Dom said curtly and put down the phone with more anger than intended. He averted his eyes, trying to keep his hands steady as he put his gun back in the holster.

  A sharp light suddenly streamed through the front window of the helicopter, and he closed his eyes before squinting to see two reflectors at the front of a Jeep-like vehicle right ahead of him.

  His body pulsed with anger at the loss of control. If Toro saw who’d infiltrated his organization, would he kill Domenico on sight? No, likely not. He’d want to know who’d sent Domenico after him. There would be questioning. There would be pain, unless Dana was still here, ready to intervene. He didn’t know.

  And there was nothing that made Domenico more nervous than not having steady ground under his feet. Still, Toro left him no choice, and torn between imminent death and even the slightest chance at survival, Domenico would always choose the latter. His pride didn’t go that far.

  When he pushed himself to the front of the helicopter and looked through the open door at the bright green of the grass and how it contrasted with the shadows cast in the blinding headlights of the car, his thoughts went to Seth. There was a chance Toro would apprehend Domenico and take him away in the helicopter, leaving the unavoidable torture to a new, safer location. If Dom managed to then somehow get out of this alive, how would he find Seth? Would they be searching for one another forever, and Dom would only find comfort in knowing his husband was safe?

  He stepped outside, keeping his arms high up as he walked forward almost blindly. The bright reflectors forced him to keep his eyes down, but each step felt easier, because no one was shooting at him yet. He would be left alive for now.

  Relief grew warm roots into Domenico’s flesh, and he calmly stood in place when the doors of the car popped open. Only then, someone must have switched the car lights to a level normally used on the roads, and Domenico dared to look up.

  Luis glared at him from behind an assault rifle that could make mush of Domenico’s brain within a split second. “You speak Spanish.”

  “I do,” Domenico said, briefly looking at Alvarez, the grim bodyguard who followed Toro everywhere.

  “I assume your name isn’t Gian either,” Toro said, approaching Domenico in slow, steady footsteps. He didn’t even bother to draw a gun of his own, certain of the loyalty of his men.

  Domenico’s breath caught when he spotted Dana leaning against the car, but he wouldn’t risk his last weapon just to reassure himself by meeting her gaze. He was a spy, and he did not know Toro’s pregnant girlfriend any more than any other man here. That was what he needed to convey with his body language.

  “Gian is just a name,” Domenico said, focusing all his attention on Toro and ignoring the furious tension on Luis’s face. If he were to have a chance, Dom needed to appear useful to a man who didn’t want to outright put a bullet through his forehead.

  “We can’t trust him,” hissed Luis. “A man from nowhere.”

  “He is Italian. There are only a few options I can think of. Unless he really is a man for hire. We won’t know until he tells us,” Toro said, not taking this nearly as personally as Luis.

  Domenico’s heart thumped, and he licked his lips, which now felt dry as parchment. “It’s a long story.”

  Luis showed his teeth and stepped closer like an aggressive dog eager to defend his master, even after the threat has been subdued already. Something rang out in the air, and he fell face-down with a heavy thud and a splash of blood from the back of his head.

  The bodyguard was about to reach for his weapon when he froze, and this time Domenico saw the shadow hitting the side of his head. Alvarez was dead before he could even make a sound.

  Domenico’s heart was in his throat as he looked straight at Toro.

  Chapter 22 - Seth

  Seth couldn’t believe he was stuck down here with Miguel and Nero while Domenico was out there trying to take down Toro, a man who could have fuck knew what up his sleeve. This wouldn’t be the first time that Domenico went off to do something on his own, but the way he’d talked about the codes to the account, like this really could be the end, made Seth’s fight not to crumble all that much harder. If Dom believed what he was about to do was that dangerous, then how was Seth supposed to sit his ass in an armchair and wait?

  Nero watched him from behind the bars seeming more and more like a cartoon character the longer Seth looked at him, with the green hair, bright eyes and tattoos all over. Seeing him only made Seth angrier, because their situation was as serious as ever, and Nero Moreno exuded mockery of any visual standards. Widen his smile, and he could play the Colombian Joker.

  “Don’t sulk. It doesn’t look good on you,” Nero said, leaning his muscled arms against the bars.

  Seth leaned forward as well, putting his elbows on his knees. “Are you trying to tell me I’d look prettier if I smiled?”

  Nero smirked. “You look quite spectacular when you’re angry, too. But this sad pug face doesn’t do you any good.”

  Seth looked to Miguel, but he just kept up his dead-faced expression. “Fuck off! Is everything a joke to you?” He couldn’t bear it anymore and stood up. At least the other men were some kind of distraction, because otherwise all he could think of would be Domenico’s brains splattered all over his beautiful black hair. In moments like this it didn’t even matter that Dom could say the most hurtful things, because there would be no one to argue about them with if Dom got killed.

  Nero sighed. “Yes. Life’s too short to be gloomy. Maybe I could make
you feel better. Distract yourself and be happier when you forget about him.”

  “Did you hear that load of shit, Miguel?” Seth stepped over the leg of one of the dead men.

  Miguel groaned. “Sadly.”

  Nero held on to the bars and stuck the middle of his face through them. “The three of us could have some fun. Who knows what happens next?” It was difficult to figure out whether he was genuinely offering sex in a situation such as this or merely looking for a way to distract them and make a run for it.

  “Shut up, Moreno. One misstep and someone might fuck you over with a crowbar,” Miguel hissed with so much violence even Seth felt uncomfortable, but the threat didn’t seem to have fazed Nero, who sent Miguel a kiss, as if they were only flirting.

  Seth rubbed his temples, pacing from wall to wall. “You’re ridiculous,” he said to Nero. “You know nothing of loyalty.”

  “Maybe not, all things considered,” Nero said, watching his brother’s body without emotion.

  “Can’t we just off him while Gian’s away?” snapped Miguel.

  Seth kicked the corpse’s foot. “No, we can’t! And I’m leaving, so your knife better not slip while we’re not here.” He wouldn’t go meddle in Domenico’s plans, but he wouldn’t be sitting on his ass here either. There were a few rooms upstairs that offered a view on the helicopter pad. At least he’d get to watch Dom act and discreetly intervene if it became necessary.

  Miguel frowned. “Where are you going? It’s not fucking helpful that you two keep talking in your own language.”

  Seth made a point of not glancing at Nero despite wanting to. “We had some private matters to talk about. And I will be back soon.”

  Miguel kept his gaze for a tense moment, but eventually he nodded. “Fine. But I can’t guarantee this bastard’s safety if he can’t hold his tongue.”

  “Oh, please, do shut me up,” tweeted Nero with a wide grin, showing off the spiky teeth in his lower jaw.