He leads us to the warehouse office where he turns and states, “It would be wise to leave your men outside. I would not like my mules to be discouraged by thinking something was wrong.”
Mules. This is what some drug manufacturers call the people packing their gear, as well as taking it over to assigned dealers. Seeing as the men being here was all for looks anyways, I nod to Happy, who tells them all to wait outside for us.
Michael tries to stay behind with the men, but I nod to my side. He scuttles over with his head down. When Happy joins us, Hamid asks, “A drink, perhaps?”
I scowl at him. He watches me for a full minute before he smirks and takes a seat behind his desk. “All this animosity over a child?”
The three of us stand in front of his desk. Happy pipes up, “All this animosity over war.”
Hamid waves a dismissive hand, “That was before I realized you weren’t poaching my men.”
I state, “Patrick says hello.”
Hamid blanches. The fact that I had to get rid of one of my men because of this asshole grinds my gears. He sputters, “W-what do you mean?”
Ignoring his attempt at playing dumb, I tell him, “Of course, where he is right now, it’ll be hard for you to contact him again.” I tilt my head and narrow my eyes at him. “Very hard. You could say that he’s gone…underground…for a while.”
Happy adds, “A very long while. He might never even resurface.”
Hamid’s false bravado disappears and a look of worry crosses his face. “I did not go to him. He came to me! And he said nothing of which I didn’t already know. Now, we have spoken, and I have apologized; there is no need for this. We can go our separate ways and forget about it.” Although he tries to make it sound like a statement, it comes out more as a plea.
Happy and I look at each other a long moment before Happy nods in my direction. I smirk internally. Walking around the desk, I speak as I go, “You know what? I think you’re right. I don’t think Patrick told you anything you didn’t already know. But I do think you knew exactly why Michael was leaving you. And I don’t think you liked losing a man to me, did you?”
Hamid scowls. I push further. “Did you?”
He responds with an acid tongue. “It does not matter, Twitch. It is over. There will be no war. I will not apologize a second time. I think it’s time for you and your men to leave.”
Finally reaching the back of his chair, I lean forward over his head and whisper loud enough for all four of us to hear, “All’s fair in love and war.”
As quick as a snake strike, my forearm goes around his neck and tightens enough to cut off his air. Happy doesn’t react, but Michael whispers, “Holy shit.”
Hamid reaches up and claws at my arms. It gets him nowhere. And this is the point where I look over at Happy and jerk my chin towards him. He comes forward as I lift Hamid by his neck out of his chair and stand him up. Happy comes from behind him and takes my place by putting Hamid in a chokehold. Breathing deeply, I tell Hamid, “You know, I wish people wouldn’t force me to do things like this.” Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my ivory switchblade and extend the blade. “Unfortunately, you leave me no choice with your blatant disrespect. And I’ve let that go on too long. So today will be your one and only lesson from me.”
Lack of air makes the pressure build in his now-maroon-colored face. He chokes out, fear in his eyes, “What are you going to do?”
Looking into his left eye, then his right, I state robotically, “An eye for an eye.”
Happy’s hold on his throat tightens, he shoves a balled handkerchief into his mouth, and covers it with his free hand. Hamid struggles against his hold, his loud cries muffled. The man is petrified. I could let him go right now. It would be a lesson taught to him, but that lesson would be soon forgotten. I want this fucker to wake up every morning with me on his mind.
I want him to remember me for the rest of his miserable life.
Clinically, I tell Happy, “Hold him still. I don’t want to take them both out.”
Hamid’s eyes widen a moment before he struggles harder and closes his eyes, tears rolling out of the corners. When I hear trickling, I look down to see the man has pissed himself. The smell of ammonia strong in the air, I glare at him. “Motherfucker. Let’s do this.”
A cut here.
Hamid screams until he’s hoarse, muffled by Happy’s makeshift gag.
A slice here.
He whimpers. His body shakes uncontrollably, going into a state of shock. His hands claw at air.
A gouge there.
His breathing heavies and his body stills, alerting me to the fact that he’s passed out.
Damn. Lucky son of a bitch.
What should probably be sad is that I feel little to nothing about doing this. There is no twinge in the back of my head telling me to stop. No emotion. There is just…nothing. My mind and I are completely at ease doing this to someone we believe is at fault. Someone who needs to be taught a lesson.