Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
KINCAID
The job my uncle assigned has me and Ezra in the concrete bowels of an industrial building on Saturday night. As the minutes tick towards midnight, we’ve almost finished with the man foolish enough to think blackmailing Lance Tana was a good idea.
His head hangs forward, a trickle of bloody drool dribbling from his busted mouth onto the floor. I struggle to remove the brass knuckles from my swollen fingers and when they’re finally off, I step closer and check the man’s bonds. Still tight.
I tip his head back, stuffing a balled-up handkerchief in his mouth. My lips curl in disgust as they brush against a trail of crimson spit, and I wipe them against his knee, avoiding the wet patch in his crotch where he lost control of his bladder a half hour back.
His eyelids flicker and close. He’s so far gone that he doesn’t even flinch as I knot the gag behind his head.
Anything he wanted to say to save himself will now go unsaid, not that it matters. My uncle’s instructions were very clear.
The last hour is nothing but theatrics, and this man’s lucky. There are worse things that can happen than a beating followed by your quick and certain death.
Granted, the death won’t be as quick as he’ll want it to be, but that’s the cost of doing business with unscrupulous men.
“Hurry up,” Ezra grumbles from beside me as I check the bindings again. “It doesn’t need to be that fucking precise.”
He misses the point that precision is just… better.
Then again, my cousin has never met a corner he didn’t want to cut.
My shoe kicks something hard, sending it skittering across the floor. A tooth. There are more of them on the stained concrete than are left in his head and the ones that do remain are splintered stumps.
“Get the files from his safe if you’re that eager to get out of here. We need to torch them.”
But he folds his arms, tapping his foot instead. “Speaking of evidence…”
“What?”
“You showed that little redhead my recording, you fucking moron. Now she’s threatening to show it to the police.”
“Her name’s Francesca.”
He shoves his face close to mine until I take a step back. “I don’t give a shit what her name is. What the fuck were you thinking?” His gaze drops to my crotch. “Or have you put your dick in charge of decision making?”
“You’re the one who shoved your flaccid penis in her mouth. If you want someone to blame, try looking closer to home.”
“Hardly flaccid.”
I snort with genuine amusement. “If your erections are that tiny, claiming you were hard isn’t the flex you think it is.”
“Shut up. We’re not all deformed.”
“If you don’t want girls to threaten you with police, stop recording them without their knowledge.”
Ezra retreats while I slosh fuel over the victim, upending the can to get out the last drips, inhaling the sharp chemical sting with a grim smile. Petrol is such a clean smell after the rank stench of his blood and urine and bowels.
“It’s not me she’s scared of,” he continues. “What the fuck did you do to her?”
His snide words might as well be punches.
I usually move fast when we get to this stage. Desperation makes people dangerous and even though I’ve never seen proof, there are plenty of anecdotes about victims breaking bonds with a burst of superhuman strength.
But tonight, I need the short break more than I need to exercise caution. I fetch the incriminating files myself, then dawdle over taking the empty canister outside to load into my car boot.
Ezra won’t be able to tell that I thump it shut with extra force, teeth gritted at the thought he’s right. I gave her an orgasm that left her breathless, yet she reacted like I fucked her mother. Even after forcing her to take the new phone, she’s barely touched it, wasting the favour I called in with Onyx.
The combination of my size and demeanour often makes people wary, even when I pose no actual threat. I’ve long grown used to it.
But this time it stings.
Ezra glares when I walk back inside. “The only reason I fucked with her in the first place was to piss you off. You showing it to Alice and Francesca was a dickhead move. This is your fault, and you need to put it right.”
I snort, used to the mental contortions of my cousin. “I’ll give her a lift to the station.”
His smug grin doesn’t falter. “Except I’ve already told Dad, so if you want her to remain in one piece, better get it sorted.”
Fury engulfs me and I’m on him, punching his jaw, kicking his ankles out so he thumps to the ground. I land on top, knocking the breath from his lungs, and press on his head, crushing him against the unforgiving concrete until his skull bends and he screams.
“Call him and take it back,” I shout over his noise.
He snorts, spattering blood and mucus onto the concrete. “And why the fuck would I do that?”
I could punch him again but the more I hurt him, the more he’ll dig in his heels. My word won’t mean shit to my uncle when it’s in opposition to his precious son.
“Fine,” I snap, giving his face one last shove before getting to my feet. “I’ll sort things with her this week.”
He lifts himself onto his hands and knees and spits another wad of watery crimson onto the floor. “Lovely. Send me a video of her recanting, and I’ll let Dad know.”
“You better.” I clench and unclench my hands, aching to pound my fist into his face until he’s in worse shape than our intended victim. “Half the school has seen us together and I don’t need another rumour accusing me of murder.”
I extend a hand to help him regain his footing. He wipes his bleeding nose against his sleeve, and nods to the man behind us. “You ready to do the honours?”
With a flick of my lighter, I ignite a flame and the man yells louder, cords visibly straining on either side of his neck. He rocks the heavy chair forward, taking a few duck steps forward.
I touch the flame to a dribble of petrol on the floor, stepping back as it combusts into life and engulfs him.
Ezra turns away. He’s never had the stomach for the job, no matter how often my uncle exposes him to the violence of our profession.
Nobody would fault me for turning aside as well, but I watch the man’s skin crispen in the flames, fat melting, his muscles retracting until his body curls into itself.
At times like this, I hate the work my uncle makes me do, but I watch until the rope burns through, and the corpse slumps sideways out of the chair, hitting the concrete with a thud. Anything less would be cheating.
After the flames die down, I tidy away the equipment we brought to the scene, leaving the disposal crew to tackle the rest.
My mind soon moves to my next problem. Francesca.
If I approach her, spouting threats and forcing her to recant, she’s certain to turn further against me.
But I have her school fee situation up my sleeve, and it’s obvious her mother isn’t coming in to sign the appropriate documents anytime soon. A problem I can solve on her behalf to win some favour.
Hopefully, it’s worth enough to offset what I’ll need to do, thanks to Ezra.
A strange sensation washes over me, and it takes a moment to understand the knot in my stomach is anticipation. It’s been a long time since a job—since anything, really—excited me this much.
I can only hope the result matches to my expectations.