Page 43 of Queen Crow
We’re led through a grand dining room with chandeliers overhead and fine china on the tables, regardless of the lack of patrons sitting down to eat. There’s only one occupied table at the end of the room and there’s no doubt in my mind of which one Santiago Arias is.
He’s sitting in the center of the table with a cigar in between two of his fingers, old and faded tattoos on display on his arms and even some visible curling up his chest, thanks to all of the open buttons on his white dress shirt. He’s older than I was expecting, older than Senior was, and when he smirks at us, there’s a gold tooth shining in his mouth.
He’s not as clean cut as I was imagining. Even as a cartel boss, to rub shoulders with the level of society that he does, I was expecting more from him.
I’m oddly disappointed.
“You look too much like your bastard father! I was willing to meet with you just for the chance to tell you he’s a cunt and I’m glad to see him dead.”
His accent is strong but his English is very good; he’s spent a lot of time in the country. I gesture at the seats on this side of the table as though asking if we can join them as I reply, “I’m very aware of his failings and I was very glad when my dear friend decided to pay him a visit.”
Arias eyes us both for a moment longer before flicking his wrist at us to sit down. “I heard rumors that you paid the Wolf to do it. I did not think she worked for free.”
He knows nothing about her because she mostly works for favors, only taking money when she needed it for school and, later, for Harley.
“She is a close friend, we do many things for one another. Including coming here to speak with you.”
He brings the cigar to his lips and takes a puff, blowing the smoke in our direction without any attempts at civility or respect. I hate men like this more than most, but I keep my face clear.
Ash does too.
“You let her fuck your brother, eh? Is he the price you pay? Your father did always say he belonged to you, disgusting for men to act this way.”
I look over at Ash as though I’m considering his words and then I turn back to him. “If my brother chooses to crawl into bed with the greatest assassin the Bay has ever produced, then that’s his business. Did you also pay that price to my father? Let him fuck your daughter for… what was your business with him? I can’t imagine he was a good man to have around.”
His lip curls and I enjoy it a little too much, almost forgetting that I’m here to impress this man and get something from him, not tear him to pieces verbally because he’s a complete misogynist.
“He was useful for a time. You could be too but I think you’d break too easily. Little girls do not belong here, Beaumont. Little girls belong with men who will fuck this sort of ambition out of them.”
Gross.
I incline my head to him. “I’ve found one of those already, but thank you for your concern. Should we move on to the real reason we’re here today? Because I don’t want to take up any more time than we have to.”
He takes a drink from the glass in front of him, not offering us anything, and then he shrugs at me. “I looked over what your little friend sent me. There is a spy amongst my men. I will have it handled. Rule number one of business is not to give anything away for free. You need to work on that, little girl, because I have nothing to give you.”
Ah, of course.
Whendon’tthese men resort to infantilizing me? “You mistake me, I’m not here to do business or ask for your help. I am more than capable of taking care of the problem. I’m here to see if you are going to be my next issue to deal with once this one has been moved from my planner.”
The cigar burns in his fingers as though he’s forgotten about it, the smoke curling up toward the ceiling and I force my eyes not to stare at the large brown patch up there from his disgusting habit, the only sign in this stunning room that a cartel owns it and does business here. His fingers are stained as well, filthy under the countless rings with giant precious rocks in them.
He’s old and fat, tattooed and balding, a plethora of things that seem completely unrealistic for a Colombian cartel to be.
I pull my phone out of my pocket, moving slowly so they can all see exactly what I’m doing. I use the phone number Jackson had given me for Arias and send through the security footage Lips had found of Amanda Donnelley snitching on her father to the FBI.
Complete with subtitles and timestamps.
I glance over at Ash to check in with him as we sit through Arias watching it. His fingers tighten on his phone and his mouth pulls into a tight line.
“I think you’ve been protecting a daughter of your own out of loyalty… loyalty she doesn’t share with you. As I said, I want nothing from you. I’m going to deal with your daughter for another error of judgment she’s made, and if you understand how things work, you’ll stay away from the Bay. You’ll accept someone else doing your dirty work for you because there is a lot of chaos that my family can bring to you if you don’t.”
He starts the video over again as the door at the far end of the room opens and one of his men calls out in Spanish, but I catch a name. Nicolás.
Arias looks up immediately, waving them into the room, and I catch a little more of his words and their meaning. His son is here. Ash’s eyes stay on Arias, but I glance over my shoulder to get a look at him.
He’s a child.
Barely a teenager, he’s that gangly sort of tall where it’s clear he hasn’t figured out how to operate all of his limbs properly yet. His father watches him with a possessive sort of pride. This is his son and his legacy, a boy who was never given a choice about who he is destined to become.