Page 193 of The Wicked

He sighed. “Bruv, I was at work, normal ting. Stepped out to chuck the trash, yeah? Then I hear footsteps. Before man even turns ’round—boom—white handkerchief on my face. Next thing? I’m here.”

“They kept sedating him,” Devil said.

“Yeah, kept him somewhere clean too; that’s why he still looks fresh out of a shitty situation,” Dog said.

“Do you know Arturo Garza?” I asked.

He scoffed. “Do I know him? Even in death—even in fuckingdeath—the old man still finds a way to fuck up my life—him and that godforsaken chihuahua.”

“So youdoknow him.”

“Yeah, man was my dad.”

Upper frowned. “Arturo Garza didn’t have children.”

“So says everyone whoknowshim.” Chika laughed humorlessly. “I was his adopted mistake. Never knew why he took me in, just to bin me off.” The hate in his voice told me he knew why, and when he spoke again, we all knew why. “Maybe he just wanted a Nigerian son cause his old ting back in the day was from there. Thought he could get that feeling back through me—in a platonic way, obviously—then he washed his hands off me when he saw it didn’t work,” he said in one breath, looking around at us before clearing his throat. “But he’s no longer in my life, so whoever thought it was fun to kidnap me cause they think I have some info on him just wasted their fucking time.”

“So, you don’t know anything about the painting?” Milk asked.

“Or the quest?” Devil added.

“Yeah, that dumbass quest. Man’s whole life was just plottin’, schemin’, actin’ like some mastermind of his own fucking hype. Long ting, bruv.”

“So you are wealthy; why work in some make-believe McDonald’s?” Dog asked.

“Because I told Arturo to keep his help and his money. Man tried throwin’ me a cut when he was turnin’ all his shit to gold, yeah? I told him to give that to his real kid and get the fuck out my face.”

“His real kid being the chihuahua,” I noted.

“Yes. And he did, and I was free until—now.”

Devil frowned. “The people who took you must have a valid reason for doing so or else you wouldn’t be here. You know something about the quest. It’s only a matter of time before the other people find out and you’re hunted. We can offer you protection if you tell us all you know.”

Chika’s eyes scanned us uncertainly, his stare saying that he did know something and was holding back.

His gaze locked with mine, and I nodded encouragingly at him.

Chika sighed. “Listen, I don’t wanna get caught up in Arturo’s business. I have spent years,yearstryna forget that I had someone like that as a parent, and I did. I moved to London, started fresh, and got a banging job that pays a lot of money so people can say Saucy Chika every time they see me while my sadist of a boss wanks on it while he watches like a creep from the computers in his office.”

“That is gross,” Milk said.

“Bruv, the money’s worth it. Only thing I know ’bout the painting is that every piece was kept in one place. Here in Milan, yeah? Some heavily guarded ‘sock’ company. They move ’em bit by bit to different regions and countries. No clue how the timing works with all the shipping madness, fam. I just know the spot where all the paintings are. And I only clocked that by accident; I overheard him once chatting to himself and his dog, plotting like some mad scientist. I thought he was going crazy.”

I smiled to myself. “The location would be perfect. Just tell us what you need in exchange for this info, and we’ll provide it.”

“You offered to give me protection.”

“You don’t want money?” Dog asked.

“I don’t want his money, your money, or no dirty gang money, fam. I don’t want none of it; man just wants to go back to my life, innit.”

My gaze met Devil’s, and he nodded with a shrug.

I brought my gaze back to Chika.“You’re in luck, Chika. I happen to know someone who can provide you the kind of protection you need until all this is over.”

He let out a breath of relief. “I can cut now, yeah?”

“No,” I said.