Page 74 of No Sweeter Poison

A while ago, on one of my many shopping exhibitions with Lettie. It used to be the only way I could kill time.

He almost smiles. “You look beautiful,” he tells me and places a chaste kiss on my lips. “We won’t be long, I promise. But please, for my sanity, don’t leave this room. I can’t focus on what I’m doing if I’m worried about you wreaking havoc in my casino.”

I brush my nose against his. “I promise I won’t wreak havoc in your casino,” I whisper.

“Or run away with dodgy Americans.”

I laugh. “Or run away with dodgy Americans.”

“Good.” He kisses me again and I lean in, wishing it would last a little bit longer. “I’ll be back.”

Alejandro leaves and closes the door behind him with a deafening click.

I t takes all of ten minutes for me to find a way out.

I tell Dimitrio that I have to use the bathroom and when he tries to follow me inside, I lie and say I’m having girl problems. Don’t think he believed me but what’s he going to do? Check?

The bathroom on this floor is the kind with a lounge inside. A mostly round vestibule lined with mirrors and chairs where women touch up their makeup and adjust their hair. I wait until a large group of women leave, one of whom is wearing a dress the same color as mine, and the six of us seamlessly make our exit. Dimitrio is momentarily distracted by Oscar who’s leaning over and whispering intently.

Perfect.

Except I have no idea where I’m going.

Last time I was at El Rey, I got myself kidnapped for the second time in one summer. Alejandro never brought me back and I never asked. Not until now, at least. I’m able to find my way back to the room I was in before and remember that when Alejandro left, he turned right so I make my way down the hall. It’s short and dark and at first, I think it doesn’t lead anywhere until a narrow stairway comes into view. The only way to go is up and the stairs only go as far as a single flight. The music gradually fades to the background as I make my way down the hall. I hear voices, most of them murmured, coming from a door on the left end.

Red velvet wallpaper lines the wainscoted walls and dimly lit sconces barely illuminate the path in front of me. I’m about to try turning the crystal nob on one of the doors when one at the end of the hall opens.

I dart across the carpet and blend into the darkness behind a side table.

Lettie huffs and murmurs something under her breath I don’t hear. She makes a sharp left and turns around the bend. I tiptoe down the hall and watch as she opens another door and disappears inside. She exited from a corner room but went through a side door…why?

No one followed her out so she must’ve been in the first room alone. I approach it and slowly turn the nob, ready to bolt the second someone appears on the other side. However, the room is empty.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I transported from El Rey to an interrogation room at a police station.

The room is square and spacious, equipped with upholstered chairs, a standing bar, and glowing sconces on the wall prevent the descent into total darkness. There aren’t any windows except the one in front of me which can see clearly into the other room. Judging by how no one’s moved, they must not be able to see me from the other side.

Lettie is standing by a side door, the one she probably entered from around the corner of this one. Half shrouded in darkness, she stands behind her brother, like the Devil on his shoulder, tempting and whispering. Alejandro sits in a large chair, elbows resting on the armrest, legs spread like the world sits at his feet. A muscle jumps in his temple and he drags his hand down the length of his face, eyes appearing black in the poorly lit room. It’s furnished similarly to this one, albeit far more modestly, with a sinister side table lined with items whose handles are the only thing visible from this angle.

I see Diego leaning against the wall and spot three other men but don’t recognize them. Then there’s the man sitting in the center of the room, ankles and wrists bound to his seat, bottom lip bleeding.

More than the eerie scene in front of me, it’s the silence that gets under my skin. No one moves or speaks and the only sound echoing between both rooms is the blond man’s labored breaths. The side of his mouth is beginning to swell like he just took the right hook from hell.

“Patrón, si quieres—”

Alejandro holds up a hand and it’s such a simple gesture. Yet, it manages to silence the nearly seven foot, three-hundred-pound mountain standing next to him. God, I’ve never seen anyone that height in my entire life. He’s plain looking in the face with light skin and a dark buzz cut; the only thing setting him apart from the rest being his size and a scar running across his face.

“Mr. Beauchamp, I’m a very busy man.”

Alejandro’s voice glides over my skin like ice, his measured cadences at odds with the menace in the blacks of his eyes. It’s unsettling.

“I’d be much inclined if you cooperated.” Again, with that subtle gesture of his hand, the wave of his fingers. “It would help speed up the process.”

“I…I already told you everything I know,” the man says in French accented English. “When we sold the car—”

Alejandro moves at the speed of light, the brief whoosh of metal slicing the air being the only indicator that he’s grabbed one of the torture instruments laid out on the table. In the time it takes to blink, a knife goes clean through the Frenchman’s hand, and his bloodcurdling scream sinks into my chest, making it difficult to breath.

I cover my mouth to smother the scream that never covers.