The Kiss after Midnight (The Midnight Trilogy) (21 page)

They arrived at White Plains, in the heart of Westchester County, a little after 1:30 a.m. Rodrigo had always hosted high-stakes poker games and brought heavy hitters in for them. Since Antonio’s spat with Reynaldo three years before, however, they had not gone to any of the games.

Just as Antonio was about to press the intercom, Juan and Andrés opened the apartment door, clearly shocked to see them.

“This is a surprise,” Juan said.

Antonio embraced his uncle and shook Andrés’ hand. “I’m not here for trouble. We just want to play some good old-fashioned poker.”

Juan nodded and Antonio motioned for his men to walk up the stairs.

“I just need two minutes,” Juan called out to Rico.

Antonio walked toward his uncle with a scowl across his face, Fernando close behind him. “Anything you have to say to my
ejecutor,”
he hissed, “you can say in front of me.”

“Relax, Antonio,” Juan said. “Why are you so paranoid? I just want to talk about a private matter.”

“What the fuck do you have to talk about with one of my men?”

“Remember who you’re fucking talking to,” Andrés said. “He’s the boss of this family.”

Rico led Antonio and Fernando toward the door. “Let me just talk to him. I’ll be up in a minute.”

“No,” Antonio said. “If you talk to him, you do it my way.”

Rico looked at him dumbfounded.

“Give me your phone,” Antonio said.

Rico unlocked the phone and gave it to the
comisionado
. Antonio activated a sound-recording function and gave it back to him.

“I want you to play me your whole conversation after.”

Rico looked at him for a few seconds and nodded. He turned and walked toward Juan.

“I’m sure you can understand why Antonio’s like that,” he said.

Juan leaned close to him. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s doing just fine.”

“I mean with this whole Annabel-and-Tobias thing. Is he coping with Penélope’s death?”

Rico thought before he answered. He knew Antonio would hear the whole thing, and given the way his mind worked, nothing but a diplomatic answer would do. “I guess he’s doing as good as can be expected for anyone who’s lost someone.”

Juan looked at Andrés and smiled. “Come on, Rico, you can be honest with me. I’ve been watching you. You’re the reason my nephew is as successful in our business as he is. I have big plans for you, but I need you to be honest.”

“As I said, he’s doing fine.”

Juan softly hit Rico’s right cheek twice. “I’ve always told everyone that you’re the best thing to happen to my nephew. I admire how faithful you are to him.” He took a few steps back. “Just don’t let him take you down, too.” He walked away and was swallowed by the dark.

Rico took a deep breath, and a sudden burst of cold wind slapped his face. He walked back to Antonio, who insisted he play the recording immediately. After listening to it, Antonio deleted it and patted Rico on the back. “Good. Now let’s go play.” The three men walked the four flights of stairs to Rodrigo’s apartment. A tall, large-busted brunette woman let them in.

Sounds of laughter came from the living room. Antonio walked closely behind the woman, his shoulders hunched and his head tilting from side to side. The walk to the large oak doors that led to the living room was a relatively long one. Although the sensitivity of their jobs forced everyone in their organization to live humbly, Rodrigo had one of the bigger homes. And it was graced with diamond-encrusted mirrors on the ceiling, paintings from all over the world and numerous ancient artifacts bought at prestigious auctions.

The woman pushed the door open to reveal a large room with a huge fireplace. She led them past the sofas and toward the dining area, where five men sat on padded chairs overlooking a gigantic cider table. Pedro Cruz, an
ejecutor
for Eduardo, saw them first and quickly signaled Rodrigo, who sat beside him.

The host dropped the cards and placed both hands on the table as all three men stood in front of the table. Checking his phone, Reynaldo looked up after realizing the room had gone silent. His face hardened when he noticed Antonio standing a few feet from him.

“I’ve got no problems with anyone here,” Antonio said. “We’ve just come here to play some cards.”

Rico studied everyone seated at the table. Rodrigo sat directly opposite them at the head of the table. Beside him was the baby-faced Pedro and the elegantly dressed pretty boy Salvatore Campos—another
ejecutor
for Eduardo—his designer goatee a fine work of art. Reynaldo sat beside Pedro, while Andrés’
ejecutor
, Nino, sat opposite him. With Antonio being the only
comisionado
in the game, he held rank and could insist that the game be canceled. Doing anything other than accepting his offer to join the game would have been stupid.

“Sure,” Rodrigo said. “Please take a seat.”

Antonio smiled at Reynaldo as he sat down. Fernando took a seat beside him, while Rico remained standing.

“What’s wrong?” Salvatore said to Rico. “You too good to play on our table?”

Rico dismissed the comment and shifted his gaze toward the door.

“He’s got a lot on his mind,” Antonio said. “So are we going to play or are we just going to sit here like a bunch of kids?”

“No, we’ll play,” Rodrigo said. He shuffled the cards while watching Antonio. The table remained silent.

“Come on,” Antonio said. “Is this the way to play poker? What happened to all the laughter I heard when I came in here?” He looked at Rodrigo. “What are the stakes anyway?”

“No limits,” Reynaldo said.

Antonio laughed. “Good thing I’ve come prepared.” He pulled out a money clip holding at least $10,000 and stared into the face of every man at the table. He snorted some more cocaine and wiped his nose.

Rodrigo—still shuffling the cards—glanced at Reynaldo before returning his gaze to Antonio.

“Any of you got a problem with me doing that?” Antonio said.

Each man shook his head.

“Good.” He started counting his money.

“So how are you holding up?” Nino asked Antonio.

Antonio stopped counting and stared at him. “How do you mean?”

“You know, the whole Penélope thing.”

Antonio dropped the money onto the table and interlocked his fingers. “What’s done is done. I just hope my uncle stops trusting idiots to bring her killer in.” Rico tapped Antonio on the shoulder. He looked at Rico and nodded. “You know, I didn’t come here to talk about my dead girlfriend. I just want to play poker.”

“So she’s you’re girlfriend now?” Reynaldo said with anger in his eyes.

“What was that?” Antonio folded his arms.

“No, I’m just confused. I mean, I’ve heard people say that you only went with her because you lost Annabel to me.”

Rico stepped forward. “Watch your mouth. You’re talking to a
comisionado
.”

“We’re all men here, right?” Reynaldo said. “After all is said and done, we’re just trying to make money. So why can’t we just settle everything right here, right now?”

“Fine,” Antonio said.

“Guys,” Rodrigo said, “aren’t we here to play cards?”

“Your cards can wait,” Antonio said. “Reynaldo and I need to sort this out. It’s been going on for too long.” He glared at Reynaldo. “Speak your mind then.”

Reynaldo held his hands out. “I’m just saying that you didn’t really care about Penélope.”

“But how do you know? You don’t do girlfriends. You just fuck the next tramp that will have you.”

“And, of course, the woman who didn’t want to be with you. How does it feel, knowing that I won?”

“Reynaldo!” Rico moved toward him, but Antonio held him back.

“Annabel and I had our time and it passed,” Antonio said. “I fell in love with Penélope.”

“And you accuse me of sleeping with whores?”

Most of the men at the table gasped. Some fidgeted in their chairs. Antonio squeezed his palms together his scowl intensifying and his eyes turning red.

“That’s low,” Nino said. “You can’t speak of the dead like that.”

Reynaldo sniggered. “A dead whore is still a whore.”

Antonio pushed past Rico and kicked Reynaldo to the floor and punched him in the face. He pulled out his gun and smashed the butt of it against his nose. “Who the fuck do you think I am?” Antonio growled. “You think you can just talk to me like that?” He struck his head with the butt of the gun until blood splattered the cream carpets. He pounded so hard that the sound of cracking bone could be heard.

He finally stopped hitting Reynaldo’s lifeless body after a few minutes and stared at his bloodstained hands. All the men got to their feet and looked across the table at the dead
ejecutor
, their mouths open in horror. Red stains spread from the carpet to the walls. Antonio looked at the unrecognizable corpse and rose to see Rico looking at him with a mixture of disgust and shock.

Antonio pulled out one of his miniature bottles of cocaine and snorted into his left nostril. He looked at the corpse again. “Who’s the whore now?” He raised his voice. “Who’s the fucking whore now?”

Rodrigo drew his gun and pointed it at Antonio. Rico and Fernando immediately pulled theirs and aimed them at Rodrigo.

“You fucking killed him,” Rodrigo said, “in my fucking house.”

“Put the gun down, Rodrigo,” Rico said.

“Fuck that! He fucking killed Reynaldo for no fucking reason.”

“You don’t point a gun at a
comisionado
, ever. Now put the fucking gun down.”

Breathing heavily, Rodrigo cast glances at the men around the table, all of whom stared at the dead man. He put his gun down after a few minutes. Rico ran toward him and grabbed him by the neck. “I should fucking kill you. That’s Juan’s nephew. You got a death wish or something?”

“That’s it,” Antonio said. “No more. Let him go, Rico. I didn’t come here for this. You all saw what he did. I came to play cards and he called my dead girlfriend a whore.”

The men all nodded.

“I’m going to go now. There’s a lot of heat on me right now. I can’t be involved in this.” He walked up to Rico. “Can you clean this up?” he whispered.

Rico nodded, and Antonio left the living room with Fernando. The large-breasted woman stood by the door with tears in her eyes.

The other men looked at Rico after the door shut, their faces filled with shock and disgust.

“What the fuck was that?” Nino demanded.

Rico knelt beside the corpse and studied it for a moment. Pieces of the skull were exposed. He looked up at Rodrigo. “You need to take care of this.”

“Fuck that. Antonio killed him. He should get rid of the body.”

Rico rose. “Can you fucking hear yourself? This isn’t about Reynaldo or Antonio anymore. It’s not about you, me or any one of us. It’s about the family. If just one of us goes down for murder, they’ll start breathing down all our necks. Reynaldo’s death needs to look like a mugging or something.”

“And what mugger would do that to someone?” Salvatore shouted. “That body is fucking mutilated.”

Rico slammed his hands on the table. “I don’t have time to argue with any of you. This body needs to be out of here as soon as possible. You need to tell our guys in the NYPD so they get the report straight.”

Rico holstered his gun and turned around. He was headed for the door when Nino called out to him.

“Do you think Antonio was right in killing him like that?”

Rico put his hand over his nose and looked at the floor. “No. Reynaldo didn’t deserve that. No one does.”

Tobias yawned when he returned from the bathroom. Annabel stood in front of the drawn curtains with a newspaper in her hand, scowling. He returned to the bed and lay on his back. He stared at the ceiling as he lifted his leg. The pain had subsided considerably after nearly three weeks of recuperating.

He had enjoyed the way Annabel treated him in that time. He almost wished they could live there forever. He got back to his feet and put a T-shirt on, the pain no more than a slight twinge he felt when he walked. Annabel now had a cigarette in her mouth, the newspaper on the table beside her, but her scowl was still present.

“What’s wrong?” Tobias asked.

She stared at him with anger in her eyes and walked out of the room. “I’m going for a walk.”

He followed her to the door. “What’s happened? Why are you—”

The door slammed, leaving him speechless. He returned to the room and picked up the newspaper, searching for what she might have read. He found it on the fifth page:

The gang war plaguing New York City has claimed yet another victim. Reynaldo Machado, a senior member of The Dominguez Criminal Organization, was found beaten beyond recognition in Prospect Park, Brooklyn, on Saturday afternoon. Police have suggested that Reynaldo might have been the victim of a mugging that went awry. FBI Deputy Director Ross Wheeler, however, believes that his death is linked to the previous violent murders that have been connected to the organization, including the grisly killing of Penélope Salazar. The main suspect in that killing, Tobias Mead, is still at large, along with possible accomplice, Annabel Lopez.

Tobias threw the paper to the floor and slammed his hand against the window frame. “What the fuck’s happening?” He looked back at the paper. It was open to a page with a picture of a man with a long gray beard. He trembled as he picked the paper back up, his eyes turning red as he read on:

German steel magnate Albert Eichelberger was killed on Friday night in what is being described as a gangland-style assassination. Eichelberger was shot in the chest four times after attending a play at a theater in Düsseldorf, his hometown. A man was seen fleeing the scene moments later, but police say they have not obtained a description.

There are no suspects in the slaying, although senior members of law enforcement agencies in Germany and the United States are suggesting that he might have been killed by the same people who killed Wall Street whiz kid, Connor Murray. Eichelberger was one of the people named in the damning report linking the banker to numerous organized crime operations.