Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
KINCAID
Another weekend, another man trussed with ropes and full of excuses. This time, I’m in a private investigator’s waiting room, collecting an overdue debt.
Back when I started working solo jobs for my uncle, debt collection was exciting. Now the assignments are a reminder I haven’t progressed the way I once hoped.
The grubby downtown office has aircon so hot and humid, the tatty wallpaper peels from the walls. As the man struggles against his bonds, sweat drips from his forehead. “I swear, the money was in there. My assistant deposited it on Tuesday.”
My knuckles are already covered with bruises. Rather than punch his face again, I upend him and whack a belt across the bare soles of his feet, making him grunt and writhe. Serves him right for thinking the digital equivalent of ‘the cheque is in the mail’ is going to fly.
“You want to give me an honest answer this time?”
“Please… just let me go and I’ll check the transfer. See if there’s a digit missing.”
“And what’s your plan if there is? You can’t get the money back if you’ve made a mistake. The bank guidelines are clear on that.” I squat in front of him and my knees pop like firecrackers, making him flinch. “Or are you suggesting you have more funds squirrelled away and just like having your head kicked in?”
“No… I…” His eyes close and his muscles sag, the movement so smooth I almost mistake it as genuine, then catch the wince as I shift position.
“Stay alert.” I grab a hank of his hair and tug until his glazed eyes stare back at me. “You don’t want to miss some key piece of information by snoozing at the wrong time.”
I strap him again, three times—whack, whack, whack—before standing back. His scream is lackadaisical compared to his initial efforts, soon descending into grunts of pain.
“You’re the one choosing this, remember?” I strike him again, a blow that has him writhing against his bonds.
“Please man, just listen. I’ve got a big job on, surveying a mean prick who’s up to his eyeballs in criminal activities without the wherewithal to cover his tracks. I’m about to blow it wide open and it’ll be worth so much money it’ll make your uncle seem destitute.”
Inwardly, I roll my eyes. These guys.
They always have a big job that’s about to yield dividends.
A big job. A tipoff. A sure bet.
“I’m here now, arsehole. Not next week.” When he looks set to argue, I flex my biceps and snap the belt.
“There’s some gold,” he says in between pants, finally getting to the point we were always heading. “Jewellery. In the safe.”
He struggles to swallow, and I sympathise with how dry his mouth must be getting. I’m parched and I didn’t have a greasy rag shoved in his gob for a good twenty minutes.
The whites of his eyes show for a second as he genuinely passes out, and I lightly slap him awake.
“Jewellery,” I say as a reminder.
“From my ex-wife. I cleared the house out of everything I could before the divorce. Must be twenty, thirty grand in there. I’ll give you the passcode if you confirm that’ll make us even.”
I bark out a laugh. Even in his current state, he’s so accustomed to being the boss and giving orders, he thinks he’s calling the shots. “The passcode?”
“Yeah. It might even be worth as much as forty.” His eyes are eager, gleaming with hope.
“Which translates to four or five when we cash it. Not much of a dent in your total but I could take it as an interest payment.”
“No, fuck off. You can get more.”
“If you wanted more, you should have sold it yourself and used it to cover your debt before it got too large to handle.” My advice is sound, but he doesn’t appear impressed. “Give us the code, then. Maybe I’ll change my mind.”
His chin juts out. “Eight three two four.”
I drag him through to the main office with me, an action that tears open the wound in my upper arm. I stuff tissues in my shirt to stem the blood flow, then follow his instructions, uncovering the safe hidden beneath his desk.
When I crouch beside it, his shoulders tense, eyes glued to the large red keypad. I tap the first digit, and his expression becomes so eager, my internal warning system blares. “What was the code again?”
He repeats it but I don’t really listen. Examining the upward face of the safe, I register the unobtrusive fingerprint scanner in the corner. Unlike the large keypad, it’s grey. Designed to be overlooked.
I grab him, hold his hand flat against the desk, and withdraw my knife.
“What are you doing?” He thrashes in earnest, fear widening his eyes until they’re mostly whites. “No, I’ve told you the code. It’ll—”
I stuff the rag back in his mouth. There’s no one around but being careful is second nature.
Even with the gag, his screams are loud as I cut through the joint of his thumb, wiping the digit against his shirt to clear the blood.
I press the thumb pad to the scanner, and it unlocks, ignoring the keypad which is probably rigged to set off an alarm at the local station or private security firm. The little fucker is trying to land my arse in jail.
The jewellery is far less impressive than his claims, hardly a surprise. But his screams hitch when I pick up a USB stick. And it stands to reason it’s worth something, otherwise it wouldn’t be in there.
I hold it in front of him, pulling down his gag. “What’s this?”
His face is pale, the eyes sunken. “Just photos from my old jobs… nothing interesting.”
It’s as good as confirmation.
I tuck it into my pocket along with the jewellery. “Bad news, sunshine. This haul won’t even cover your interest. What else you got?”
He blanches and I wonder why he’s still holding out on me when the consequences are so dire. The only explanation I can think of is that we’re not the only people he’s deep in hock to.
In which case, it’s a good thing I got to him first. I pick up the belt again, doubling it to snap in front of his face.
“Take my car,” he blurts, all sign of resistance disappearing. “The keys are in my pocket. You can—”
“And inherit your car note along with it? No, thanks.”
“No, it’s paid. I won it on…” His eyes narrow and he clamps his lips together. “I just won it,” he finishes lamely. “It’s a late model convertible.”
“Perfect for that mid-life crisis, eh?”
He grins, trying to join in the joke but his eyes are glassy. Sweat plasters the dwindling strands of his hair to his forehead, sending drips down his cheek like tears. “It’s worth forty grand.”
“Like the jewellery?” I tap his forehead. “It’s worth the value I assign and not a cent more. Where’s it parked?”
“Out the back. The spot closest to the building.”
“Hang tight. I’ll be back in a minute.”
We’re just two levels up and I quickly move downstairs and push through the fire door, chocking it open with a wedge. The car is a Maserati. Burnt umber paintwork with a pleasing metallic shine, low to the ground, gull wings. A machine that would chew up the road.
I flew down here, but my uncle’s already recalled the private jet for a last-minute visit to Singapore, leaving me stuck with commercial airlines if I want a flight back.
Driving this car is a far more attractive proposition.
I go back inside, hastening up the concrete staircase with a new spring in my step.
“You’re good,” I tell him, repeating myself with a sharp kick when he doesn’t stir. I grab his hair and tug his head back to stare at the ceiling again, but this time it doesn’t rouse him.
I snip through the plastic ties and drag him out to the staircase. The cold air from the open door has already dropped the temperature here by a few degrees.
Five minutes, maybe ten, it’ll get cold enough to wake him.
I walk outside to make the call to my uncle.
“The job’s finished. He coughed up a vehicle worth ten grand more than the debt, plus a USB stick he got precious about, and a handful of jewellery.”
“Good job.” For a change, he actually sounds pleased. “When you’re back home, drop the car into the garage for rejuvenation and you’re done.”
I click my tongue against my teeth, heart pumping a little faster. “Could I keep the vehicle? It’ll come in handy for something else I have on my plate.”
“It’s worth how much?”
“He said forty.”
There’s a long pause, then I hear a hum. “Sure. Pay the guys to change the plates and it’s yours.”
I’m smiling as I press the fob and listen to the expensive clunk as the door unlocks. The inside is lush, though it’s not built for someone of my height. Even with the seat pushed all the way back, my knees are around my ears.
It’ll be perfect for Francesca.
* * *
Four hours into the drive, I’m close to falling asleep, and pull into a truck stop for a coffee and sandwich. When I check my phone, Francesca has sent a recording—as instructed—and I smile as I press play, her petite features filling the screen.
“Since my instruction was to try everything, here you go.” She has the toys lined up on the bed around her, and she turns them on, one by one, until they’re all merrily buzzing. Then she picks up a book and reads for five straight minutes.
By the time the recording ends, I’m grinning. The longer I spend in her company, the more I appreciate her quick retorts and flashes of humour.
King
Play with them, I said
Just turning them on doesn’t count
Ten minutes pass while I finish my meal, fetching a coffee refill from the drinks station. Another video arrives, this time of her juggling two clit suckers and a small vibrator in the air. When a few people nearby snap their heads around, I realise I’m laughing out loud.
I consider giving her a more specific order but need to hit the road again if I’m going to hit the gym tomorrow. Coach told me there could be a club selector at Wednesday’s game. Something to look forward to.
If it’s true, the man could be a better option for me than the agent now that Uncle Lance has fronted the idea I need to choose. Club rugby could earn me fifty thousand a game, with brand sponsorship deals and performance incentives on top.
I still don’t care much about money, but if I’m supporting a girlfriend, even a tiny one, I want to provide. I want to be the biggest earner I can be, so she never wants for anything.
King
Very nice, Freckles
After Wednesday’s game, I’ll show you how to have even more fun with a toy
The one I have in mind should be finished and delivered by then. A special order I’m sure she’ll appreciate during long, lonely nights when I’m away.
And before then, I’m happy to reap the benefits along with her.
I gulp the last of my cup, go to the bathroom, then get back on the road, smiling as I think of experiments to try out while I’m on a high from winning the game.