“Yeah, I’m all here.” I said. I was, I was there. I just had to put her out of my mind. I’d deal with it later. My father’s little “field trip” with David led to some interesting news. A rat. A nasty one.
“Janson, do your thing,” Michael said to him and Janson just nodded then broke the door down. Mob bosses acting like f*ck
ing lower rung men, it was insane. But they f*ck
ing loved to do it. And to show up to these kinds of things. Kept the traitors on their toes. He’d been dealing with a lot of unrest lately and this latest backstabbing attempt sent him over the top.
The ass*ole
was threatening to go to another family if he didn’t get an increase in his takeaway from the heroin trade, he was in negotiations with them according to the informant David put on ice. My dad promptly made plans to torture this douchebag to find out who was tempting him. And then, of course, kill him. That’s what I was doing there, salivating at the mouth to get to this piece of filth.
That’s right, salivating. I didn’t let this part of me out very often, but when I did, it was f*ck
ing heaven.
Torture that was my forte. It always had been. I was good at it. Too good.
What’s worse was that I liked it. I liked playful torture in the bedroom and real torture out there in the real world. I loved the ability to give and take away pain. It made me feel like a god. It felt good to sink a blade into someone’s flesh. To make them scream. I loved it when I made them tell me everything, and then took away the pain. It was sick, it was wrong.
But I was a monster after all.
Storming a house was nothing to the four of us. It didn’t matter that we had to knock out six junkies on the way in, we knew exactly who we were going for. The one at the very top, running the whole thing.
We found him at the top level of the dirty house, sitting on a moth eaten couch.
My heart rate spiked as I breathed in his fear. It was palpable.
“I know you were not expecting a visit, but your recent behavior has certainly warranted one.” My father liked to use a grandiose tone when he was punishing people. One that let them know exactly where his authority lay. It was somewhat juvenile, but we all had our things. He grabbed a chair and took a seat. The man liked to watch the bloodshed, but he was never one for getting his hands dirty. Unless the mood struck.
Me, I wanted to spill some blood. I had very little tolerance for traitors. It was one thing to want out, it was another entirely to switch sides.
“Not every day two major made men and their sons showed up at your door. Not to mention the fact that the men in question ran the f*ck
ing mob you were running your mouth about.” Michael’s words seethed, the true power of a second in command. “Who were you talking to?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Already with the denials. I could see it in his face. He was lying.
“Do you really want to go down that road and play that game?” I asked as I shoved him against the wall. I pulled out an intricate dagger, one I used for all these little jobs. It had served me well over the years. I held it up to his cheekbone.
It would spill blood and leave a nasty scar, but it wouldn’t do much damage there. It was my calling card. I dug into the flesh and watched as a slow trickle of blood fell from the cut and turned into a flow.
“What the f*ck
?” the guy asked.
“That’s just for wasting my f*ck
ing time. J. Hold him down.” Janson was my right hand. The man was perfectly suited to me.
“You answer the big man’s questions or I’ll dig into that skin of yours. And I really wanna leave a trail of blood.” Torture. Interrogation. It was all the same to me.
“Why did you think leaving was a good idea, Jordy?” Michael asked. He was going to draw it out.
“I wasn’t planning on leaving,” Jordy answered, his eyes wide. “I would never leave the family.”
“I was hoping he’d say that.” I traced a line down that cheek along his jaw leaving a trail of blood in its wake. It was barely there. Just surface. Nothing that was going to kill him.
But it did hurt.
“Keep lying and I go from drawing pretty lines in your flesh to cutting off fingers.” I grinned at him and Janson pushed him harder against the wall.
“I got approached.”
“By who?” Michael asked.
“I, I don’t know his name. He just approached me, said he knew what I did. Who I was. That he had an offer for me.” The ass*ole
was sincere. He wasn’t lying. Dammit. I wanted to sink my knife into something more substantial.
I bit back a growl.
“Then what?” Michael crossed his arms, and I looked back at my father. He was pleased. I could tell by the look on his face. I was back to doing what he wanted. I was thriving in the world that he had created, not fighting it.
“I never met anyone who was as important. Never knew their names, but I knew the family they worked for. They wanted information.”