When Villains Rise (Market of Monsters #3) - Rebecca Schaeffer Page 0,79
able to finally get rid of me.”
Fabricio laughed a little, his voice hoarse and sad. “My life has been a ticking clock, a countdown to my death.”
Nita licked her lips. “When is your eighteenth birthday?”
“Last week,” he admitted. “While I was in INHUP custody in Bogotá.”
Pieces clicked together in Nita’s mind. “This is why you were so desperate not to go back. Because you knew if you were sent back—”
“They’d bring me to the bank, I’d open the sealed vault, Martin would take the information.” He closed his eyes, breath whooshing out as he whispered, “And I would die.”
Nita was silent a long moment. Across from them, Martin snorted.
“Turning yourself into a tragic hero, Fabricio?” Martin looked up at them all with cold brown eyes. “Using that silver tongue of yours to spin the very best tale possible, make yourself the hero of this story. Always the tragic fucking victim, aren’t you?”
Fabricio’s smile was bitter. “You can curse me all you want, but I’ve only spoken the truth.”
“Oh, I never said you lied. You just strategically omitted things, the way you always do.” Martin turned to Nita. “What he didn’t tell you here is that he learned on his daddy’s knee. That he’s actually been a major force in preventing people from finding out his father is dead. I’m the fake face of Alberto Tácunan, but he’s the behind-the-scenes Alberto Tácunan.”
Fabricio shrugged. “It’s true. If the world found out my father was dead, and the situation with Tácunan Law, the monsters would descend. A million people would want to kidnap or kill me for the same reason you did, Nita. I’d never survive. And God knows Martin here didn’t have the knowledge to pass as my father.”
Martin ground his teeth. “Snotty as ever, I see.”
“I guess you shouldn’t have hired a zannie to torture me when I was thirteen, then. Maybe I’d be nicer.”
“Get over yourself.”
“Get over my—no. I’m not doing this again.” Fabricio’s face was a mask of rage, and his whole body shook. He turned to Nita, stiff and sharp. “There. You finally have the truth.”
Nita stared at him, mind racing. “So. In summary, you’ve had the passwords. You’ve always had the passwords.”
“Yes.”
“Then why the hell did you want me to kidnap him?” she snapped, gesturing at Martin.
Fabricio blinked. “Isn’t it obvious? I want him dead. He’s the one running Tácunan Law now. He’s the one who’s going to murder me if things go wrong. He killed my father.”
“So you made us kidnap him?”
Fabricio corrected her placidly. “I created a situation where you have no choice but to kill him.”
Nita raised her eyebrow. “No choice, huh?”
“Well, he’s seen your faces. You’ve tied him up and threatened him. You don’t think someone like him will forgive and forget that, do you?”
Nita’s jaw clenched. He wouldn’t.
Kovit voiced her thoughts. “Fabricio’s right, Nita. He’s seen too much. He has to die.”
Nita didn’t really care that Martin had to die. She’d been planning to kill him from the start. What she cared about was that she’d been manipulated into committing a murder she had no stake in. She’d been used, played, and tricked into doing Fabricio’s dirty work.
“Fine.” Nita’s voice was hard. She’d had enough of this. “Kill him.”
“No, wait—” Martin cried, but the sound was cut off by a sickening crack.
Kovit released Martin’s head, and it lolled at an impossible angle, eyes staring.
Nita turned to Fabricio. “He’s dead now.”
“Yes.” Fabricio’s gaze was glued to Martin’s body, something cold and hard in his eyes. “Thank you.”
“Now you’re going to give us the information we need.”
“Yes,” Fabricio agreed. “I’ll break you into the office, I’ll put in the password, you can take whatever information you want. I don’t care. Rob the company blind.”
Nita narrowed her eyes, and Kovit watched them both with wary eyes, as though afraid not just of what plan Fabricio might have up his sleeve, but what Nita might do about it.
“Fine,” Nita said, not trusting him at all. “Lead the way.”
Thirty-One
THEY LEFT THE HOTEL, leaving Martin’s dead body still bound and gagged in the chair. Nita would clean it up later. Her fingers ached for a scalpel, and her hand twitched involuntarily. What she wouldn’t give to just spend a few hours crawling through this man’s chest cavity, ripping out his organs and putting them in jars, all clear lines and still bodies.
She’d only dissected a few hours ago, but it felt like an eternity—the calm and stillness it had brought had been shattered by the real world, with