Chapter 27
CHAPTER 27
L akeshia
Shinji’s vibe has been off since we left the gas station. I can’t pin down what’s making me feel this way, but I don’t question myself. I’ve accepted we have a connection that runs deep. Funny, for the first time in my life I believe in soul mates, and I luck out with not one but two. They’ve become deeply entrenched in my life and their wellbeing is at the forefront of my mind.
All the time.
Before I start my day, I worry about them.
And I have reason to worry.
I glance at Shinji from the corner of my eye. I wish I could say my concern stems from the dangers inherent in their lifestyle, however, I’ve navigated the underworld for too long and have accepted similar risks for myself.
“You sure you’re up for this?” Shinji turns off the main road.
“I’ve killed before.”
Unlike the lush green landscape I’ve seen in Serenidad, this area seems to be transitory. The further we drive the fewer trees and shrubs break up the enormous expanse of arid land.
“You defended yourself. What we’re about to do?—”
“Shinji, I’ve been prepared to do whatever I must if it means killing Tomasso. There is no low I won’t stoop to if it means my father will finally rest in peace.”
“I admire your commitment, but since I’m here, you don’t have to push yourself to do anything you don’t like.”
I open my mouth to relay the visceral protest his words produce.
“I didn’t say all that to prevent you from participating. Life hasn’t given you a lot of opportunities to tap out and choose yourself and your needs over your vengeance.” He shrugs and aims a sheepish grin at me. “I guess, I just wanted you to have options without feeling like you’re betraying your father.”
His image swims behind a misty sheen. I blink away tears and glance out my window. I shouldn’t be so emotional from Shinji’s thoughtfulness. Guilt fills me. He has no idea I’m keeping a huge secret.
Maybe he suspects. Could his odd behavior since we left the gas station be a clue? It must. No, if I’m honest, I first sensed a shift in him when Katsuo asked me about being pregnant.
“Thanks, but I’m more worried that if I skip out on questioning our hostage we’ll miss something.”
“Makes sense.”
In the ensuing silence, I replay the meeting with Katsuo, not like I haven’t done so a few times a day since. But this time, I try to focus on Shinji’s response. He and Takeshi were disappointed, and I thought I handled their suspicions well. How could I admit to them why I’ve always been a horrible choice to be the mother of their kids? As if my anxiety attacks aren’t bad enough, admitting to them there’s a possibility I’ll die in childbirth isn’t something I can do now.
At first, I justified hiding this truth because I never intended to get pregnant. I viciously burned any dreams of having a family the instant a flicker of an idea made itself known. After all, how can I plan to bring life into a world when I probably won’t survive my confrontation with Tomasso?
Shinji shifts, and his reflection in the window draws my eyes.
Before he and Takeshi entered my life, I had a zero percent chance of walking away, but with their love and support, I have hope. I shift away from Shinji so he can’t see me touch my stomach. The dreams I coldly murdered before they could be born, now babble in baby talk in my ear. They’ve grown from an abstract wisp to almost having a physical form. Now, instead of doing my best to snuff the fantasies, I tell them to wait. Their time will come. Once I deal with Tomasso, I’ll be able to present Shinji and Takeshi with the version of me that isn’t tainted by my past; a reforged, stronger, more resilient me who’s willing to risk everything for them.
And when I say everything, I mean everything.
“We’re almost at the house.” Shinji slows the car as he navigates the uneven terrain.
I jolt, only now recognizing we’ve passed a few small communities before driving off the road. The ride isn’t smooth, but my thoughts consumed my attention, leaving me unaware of my surroundings. After another five minutes with nothing to break up the scenery, a hazy structure appears in the distance.
Shinji drives unerringly toward the building. It’s an adobe-style one-story house with an attached garage, but no landscaping to soften the exterior.
We pull to a stop and Shinji hands me a keyring with four keys. “I’ll get our guest while you familiarize yourself with the place.”
“Right. It’s time to get answers,” I remind myself with a bracing breath.
There’s no time to dwell on future problems when I have a more immediate one to face. However, Shinji and Takeshi react when I tell them everything, I have to have faith we’re strong enough to weather the fallout together.
I open the door to the house, my footsteps echoing on terracotta tiles. Staged, nondescript furniture presents this place as unworthy of notice on the inside as it is on the outside. Down the hall, I come across a locked door. I try the other keys I have until the lock clicks. The door swings inward. Unlike the front rooms where light filters in, this room is almost completely dark. Dense shadows form menacing shapes. I swallow and feel around the wall for a light switch. My fingers slide across a smooth texture. After exerting slight pressure, a click breaks the silence, and an overhead light flickers before brightening and holding steady.
Now I understand Takeshi’s previous comment about this place having what we’ll need. Medical equipment lines the walls, a metal table with straps dangling to the sides sits in the middle of the room over a drain, a deep sink is off to the side, and a retractable hose hangs from the ceiling. More equipment I can’t identify and locked cabinets occupy the space. Although everything has a useful purpose, the sterility leaves me with an ominous feeling.
How often have Shinji and Takeshi used this place? Would knowing change anything for me?
Our hostage stumbles to his knees beside me while Shinji follows behind. “Sorry for the delay. He wasn’t very cooperative.”
“Fuck you, asshole.” The man rights himself, then spits toward Shinji. His bloody saliva lands beside Shinji’s foot and he glares defiantly before attempting to run free.
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get started.” Shinji intercepts Tomasso’s henchman before he reaches the door and drags him toward the table.
Both men grunt as Shinji overpowers the other man to strap him onto the table. Once secured, Shinji steps back to admire his hostage. “Now, because I’m a reasonable man, I’ll allow you a choice.”
Our hostage stops fidgeting to stare at Shinji who leans over him, their faces inches apart.
“You can choose how long and painful your last moments on earth will be. If you answer my questions without prevaricating, you’ll suffer less.”
“Fuck you, porca puttana! You’re out of your league if you think you can win against the Giamettis. Tomasso will—Oof”
A thud follows Shinji’s punch to his mouth. Blood spatters on the table and the floor.
“The only words I need to hear from you are about what Tomasso knows and what his plans are. Anything else… Well, you already know.” Shinji massages his knuckles.
“Did Tomasso know I would be at the supplier’s spot, today?” I ask what’s been burning in my head since Evan dipped from his illegal arms shop.
The man, whose name remains unknown, has never shown up in our surveillance. Despite his anonymity, I don’t want to know who he is. Asking would be a waste of time and afford him a level of respect he doesn’t deserve.
He glances at me with a sneer before turning back to Shinji.
I shake my head, anticipating what’s coming next.
Shinji slams his fist on the man’s dick. He writhes on the table, but the straps hinder his ability to curl himself into a fetal position and protect his charms from more abuse.
“I will not tolerate disrespect to my woman. Answer the fucking question.”
The man breathes through his nostrils, but his attempt to stifle the pain fails when a groan escapes, then another before he collects himself.
Shinji raises his fist, prompting the man to blurt, “Only me.”
“Bullshit,” I say.
Shinji shrugs and slams the hostage’s nuts a second time.
“Bi—son of a bitch!” He breathes through the pain while Shinji and I patiently wait for him to choose the truth. “I swear, I’m not lying. Evan mentioned Shinji had a Black woman with him when he called to tell me about Nakashima. He’s one of Katsuo’s closest men, so I figured the woman Evan referenced was the one with the huge bounty on her head. I kept the knowledge to myself because there was no way I’d pass up that kind of money.”
“How much are we talking?” Shinji holds his hand out for the keys he gave me earlier. Once he has them in hand, he wanders over to a locked cabinet.
“Two mil.”
The air freezes in my lungs while dread swamps my body. That kind of bounty is unheard of. Even with the number of Tomasso’s men I’ve killed, two million dollars is excessive. Not even a witness under protective custody racks up this kind of attention.
Shinji casts a glance full of admiration my way, so I school my features, hiding the panic inside. There’s only one reason Tomasso would put such a high price on my head, and this isn’t how I want Shinji to discover the other secret I’m keeping.
How I don’t choke on everything I’m hiding from my men is a miracle.
Shinji returns with a small electronic device and a bag of cotton swabs under his arm. Poking out from the gadget are wires attached to clamps. He puts the machine on the table by our hostage’s feet, then rips the package of swabs open.
I follow his movements as he moistens the cotton at the sink. Before returning, he pulls a drawer under the sink and extracts a scalpel. I glance around the room again. “Why does this place look more like an emergency room than a torture chamber?”
Shinji’s lips twitch. “Because we use it for surgeries we can’t afford to have in a hospital. It helps our organization keep a low profile.”
“What the hell is that for?” Our hostage fights his bonds while keeping his eyes on the scalpel.
Shinji places the soaked cotton beside the device and raises the blade. “This? Call it my way of keeping you honest.” He cuts away the man’s clothes, leaving him naked on the metal slab.
I circle the table until I have a clear view of the hostage’s face. The blood smearing his lips doesn’t affect me, but the hateful anger in his glare causes me to step back before righting myself.
“Since we started with the easy questions, it’s time we graduate to something more interesting. What does Tomasso have planned?” Shinji asks.
The man sneers and succinctly states, “Fuck you. I won’t give up information like that even if you kill me.”
“I’ll gladly test your theory.” Shinji places the wet cotton swabs between the clamps attached to the electronic device and none too gently fastens them on the man’s balls.
A growing sense of foreboding builds in my stomach as the hostage screams in agony. I’m still unsure what the machine does, but I’m regretting the man’s bravado for him.
“You sure you don’t have something to tell me?” Shinji steps away with the gadget in hand.
“Yeah, I do. If Tomasso gets his hands on that bitch first, he’ll go medieval on her ass and rip her to shreds while she’s awake for the whole thing.”
Shinji’s nostrils flare and his face tightens, all signs of levity disappearing. Without uttering a warning, he turns a knob.
Smoke appears between the stranger’s thighs. This time his screams come from deep inside him, worse than before. I swallow the bile creeping up my throat. I’m used to defending myself from Tomasso’s henchmen, not torturing them. Maybe Shinji was right when he offered to let me sit this one out. Even so, I won’t leave him to stand on his own. He sure as shit wouldn’t let me.
Shinji shuts off the device and waits.
Tears stream unending down the stranger’s face and shuddering breaths interrupt his whimpering. When his chest’s movements slow but he doesn’t speak, Shinji turns on the machine. Again, he gives no warning, and he doesn’t repeat his question.
The smell of burning meat makes it to my nose, and I resist the urge to gag.
Time disappears as Shinji repeats this ritual over and over. Shinji’s phone rings and he moves away, giving the man a reprieve from having his balls fried.
I comb through his sweaty hair. “Why don’t you tell us what we want to know?” Since pain doesn’t faze him, maybe adding a sweet touch will.
“Tell me, was burning my balls beyond use your idea?” He glares at me, a secret knowledge hiding in the depths of his dark gaze.
“What are you talking about?” I ask as dread sets in my chest.
“At least with Paul, you were merciful enough to slice one time.”
I snap my head around to see Shinji still on the phone as panic begins to rise. “Paul who?”
“You shouldn’t be worried about him knowing. Tomasso knows. Why do you think the bounty is so high? He wouldn’t spend two mil to silence a kid because she saw her daddy die. His lawyers could discredit you in a church full of grandmas on Easter Sunday. No, you touched the golden child and you have to pay.”
I shake my head as the nightmare from my college days resurfaces. Tomasso and Paul… They were never supposed to know the freshman coed going by the name Sheila Andrews from Paul’s junior year is the same Haven Covey who watched as Tomasso blew my dad’s brains out. Having the two most horrific events shoved in my face thrusts me back to the day of my fear-filled twelfth birthday. The sense of being hunted that I’ve lived with for so long, surges forward, overpowering everything in front of me.
From behind me, Shinji’s worried voice calls my name and asks, “What did he say to you?”
The man smiles, and my panic goes into overdrive. “We were having a nice little conversation. Weren’t we Lakeshia? Or should I say, She?—”
My vision blanks and I barely hear Shinji call out.
“Oh, shit!” comes as if from under water. Strong arms wrap around me, trapping my arms against my torso. “Lakeshia, snap out of it!”
I blink to clear my vision. My hands are bloody and they’re clinging to the scalpel I remember Shinji placing on the slab before taking his call. Why is it in my hands now? Why am I bloody? I frown at the image before me not understanding the when or the how.
I glance at the man responsible for my tailspin. His empty eyes stare at the ceiling, his mouth agape. Further down, his throat is an open gash from countless stabbings. But…how?
“Lakeshia, look at me.” Shinji gently pinches my chin and twists my head until his face fills my vision.
I search his face for clues, but only concern darkens his brown eyes. But no amount of worry can stop my shaking limbs or the terror tearing at my throat. Because besides confronting Tomasso, I’ll have to face Paul. And no man can ever forgive a woman for slicing his dick off, throwing it in the garbage disposal, and walking away.