Chapter Seven
Blair
“Are you sure there was a break-in?” the young police officer looks at me and then at my house again.
“For the third time tonight, yeah. Yeah, I am sure there was. He grabbed me by my throat.” I point to the markings on my neck.
“Well ma’am, those markings could be from anything.”
Are you fucking kidding me right now?
“It has been brought to my attention that you were at a club tonight and left with a gentleman. Is he here? Did he do that to you?” He writes something in his notebook and then looks at me.
I fold my arms over my chest. “For the last time, Alex was taken! Taken! And you are sitting here acting like what I’m telling you is a lie. Someone hurt him badly and then broke into my home to get to me. He chased me up my stairs, pushed my door open before I could lock it, and then forced himself on me!” I yell, and the young deputy looks at me, writes something down, and then closes his notepad.
“He forced himself on you now?” Tilting his head, he eyes me up and down. I get so frustrated I throw my hands up.
“Without any proof of this accusation, I unfortunately cannot do anything about it. A few scratches on your neck do not correspond with an attack. For all I know you could have done that to yourself in your sleep. There are no signs of an attack or forced entry. I will leave you the card for the sheriff. If this… man comes back. Don’t interact and call us immediately.” I scoff at his dismissal of the crime that was committed at my house less than an hour ago.
He hands me the card and leaves. I cannot believe this. A man beat my boss to a pulp, and then came into my house uninvited, and touched me! Sure, the first thing I’ll do is call back the incompetent police department who dismissed me in the first place. I watch the car's lights disappear into the woods.
Once I get inside, I hurry and lock the door and make sure all the other doors and windows are locked. Not that I think this will help me at all, because I am sure whoever the hell this is, is the man messing with my head. He had to have broken in here before, with the window in the kitchen to my door being unlocked. It’s not a coincidence.
I go to my phone that I tossed on the couch when the deputy came knocking. Picking it up, I called Alex for the tenth time. It goes straight to voicemail. Maybe he got up and went home. Or maybe he is at the hospital. That would explain why he isn’t answering if he were there. Yeah… maybe he is there.
I turn to go to my room when something catches my eye. My heart races as I spot the wrapped piece of chocolate on my coffee table. A piece of Dove chocolate sits in the middle, taunting me with who it’s from. He was in here before we walked through the door. He is the one who unlocked my door. How did he get in here when I locked the door? My hands become clammy as my heart starts to race. I look around expecting to see a tall shadow figure standing in the corner watching me. I pick it up and toss it into the garbage .
My phone dings and I look at it, hoping to see Alex’s name, but it says unknown. I almost don’t open it, but curiosity and fear have me clicking it.
“I’m so sorry we didn’t get more time together, Little Dove. But I had some business to take care of. Sweet dreams.”
What. The. Fuck.
Wyatt
I have the handsy boss strapped to the metal table in the middle of my chamber. I designed this specifically for torture. It’s open with a table, a drain, and the counter I keep all my tools on. His eyes are wide with fear, as I watch him from the darkest corner of the room.
He’s frantically pulling on the straps and mumbling through the makeshift gag I made. It’s simple, a piece of cloth and tape. I did, however, dip it in rubbing alcohol before shoving it into his fucking mouth. It’ll hurt just as much as acid would, but slower.
He looks around and then he spots me. His eyes go wide, and he starts to struggle more. Forcing the razor-like zip ties to cut into his skin. I designed them myself. They look like regular zip ties until you place them on their wrist or ankle, then anytime the victim moves they slice into their skin like razors. Had a guy once who nearly severed his arm just from struggling. It was amusing, to say the least.
“Touching what’s not yours, is what got you here.” I answer his unspoken question.
I rip the gag from his mouth and see the burns laced in and around his mouth. He spits out blood and looks at me.
“Why me man? I didn’t do anything. She’s my employee, she came onto me!” He shouts and I laugh.
“Now, now, there is no need to lie. The outcome will still be the same.” He begins to cry, and the sound fuels me.
This is part of the job I have always loved, bringing a grown man to their knees and begging for their life. He had pissed himself about an hour ago when I cut off the rest of his fingers, and it fucking reeks.
“Please just let me go. I didn’t know she was spoken for. I would never have come to the bar if I’d known!” Slurring his words, I lean into his face.
“But you did go to the bar, and you did pursue something that wasn’t yours to take. And now, you will suffer the consequences of those actions. Tell me, did she taste as sweet as I know she does?”
“Please, man. Just let me go. I won’t talk to her again.” His voice is getting weaker.
“I paid your father a lot of money to hire those girls. But I was under the impression he knew that they were not up for grabs. I guess I should have paid you a little visit when I found out a few weeks later you took over the business. I didn’t think you would be that stupid, but yet, here you are, looking fucking stupid.” His eyes go wide.
“He told me that someone came and told him to hire these two girls. Said they would be walking by the morgue tomorrow at a certain time and they did. He never told me anything else, if I’d known, I wouldn’t have touched her!” His words come out in jumbled slurs.
I step back and look at my handy work. When I took him from my car, and into my garage, he was still unconscious. I tied him to the operating table next to the drain. Putting an IV in both of his arms, allowing his blood to drain slowly from his body. It's a slow process, and I hear it’s excruciating; to slowly bleed out knowing you’re about to die and there is not a fucking thing you could do about it. Maybe he’ll now know what it felt like to watch him make my girl come .
He's paled and sweat drips from his forehead. His head keeps rolling to the side and his breathing is shallow. I watch him as he fights to stay conscious.
I shake my head at the poor bastard, and walk towards the counter, “This is fucking insane. You’re delusional if you think she will ever be with someone like you! To answer your question, yes, she was fucking divine. The best pussy I’ve ever had. Too bad you won’t ever get a taste!” I’m sure he’s meaning to yell at me but it’s coming out weak and strained.
I look over my shoulder and he’s seething. I smirk, I was wondering how long it would take for him to lash out. It’s always amazing to me to see how a man deals with the realization of dying. At first, they plead but then they get pissed and say stupid shit to distract themselves from the fact they are going to be dead soon.
I place a sharp knife into my pocket and walk back over to the man of honor. I tilt my head, “Please, do go on. Tell me how she felt, how she came undone at the touch of your fingers. Fingers you no longer have.” He snarls and spits in my face.
I stand up and walk slowly behind him out of his view. It’s a tactic Pitbull taught me. It’s not all about the physical pain, it’s also a mind game. Psychological fear can be even more satisfying than physical fear.
“If only you had not canceled your date to go to the bar. Maybe you would be at home right now, balls deep in that Asian whore,” I laugh.
“How do you know about her?” His head stretches back to look for me.
I can see him squirming, struggling to see me, but he can’t. The look of relief in his eyes when he sees me come into view is just as glorious as watching him bleed out. It’s all a mind game, he is relieved to see me even though he knows I am the threat.
The sound of my phone going off makes his eyes light up in the hope someone will hear him and save him. “Hello?”
“Wyatt, my boy, I heard you took care of the old brute who tried to stiff me,” Pitbull praises.
Alex starts yelling and I walk over and punch him in the mouth to silence him.
“Busy night?” He asks amused.
“Something like that,” I wipe his blood off on his jeans.
“I feel sorry for the son of a bitch who crossed you.” I smile.
“Yes, well, I broke that piece of shit's arm. I think he got the point.” He laughs.
“I don’t see him causing you any more problems. He was scared shitless.” I hear him clap.
“Wonderful, I knew you would get the point across,” he sighs.
“What?”
“I have another job for you. We have some shipments that have gone missing, it’s the fourth package this week.”
“Fourth package? Why the hell did you not tell me sooner?”
“I sent Cameron out there to handle it a few days ago, but he never made it back. I think whoever was behind this knew he was coming. I need you to handle it for me. I’ll send the address to you in the morning,” he hangs the phone up.
I look back at Alex, he’s moving around but not making a noise. His eyes are opening and closing slowly, he’s close to dying and he now knows it.
“Please, just let me go,” he says, slowly.
“I’ll be sure to send her your parting gift,” I take the knife from my pocket .
“No, no! Please! No!”
I slowly drag the knife through his neck watching what little blood he has left, bubbles from his body. He jolts, and then he’s gone. His head leans unnaturally to the side.
I wonder what my Little Dove is up to. No doubt she’s called the police, but we have them on our payroll. They will be no use to her when it involves me. I’ve already tipped off the sheriff and he told the young deputy about it. They know better than to cross any of us, but especially me. They have a very good deal in their favor, they cover up our crimes and we pay them a million every year. It’s amazing what money can buy you.
I pull out my phone and send her a little text. I’m sure by now they have left and she’s alone. I pull out her panties I picked up on my way out and sniff them. My cock is hard just thinking about her sweet pussy. She is going to be the fucking death of me.