CHAPTER 18
DANTE
Satisfaction filled me when I heard the sound of bone crushing with the next fist I threw.
The pathetic sack of shit tied to a chair cried out in pain, and that just made me feel even greater.
Good. He deserved to fucking hurt. But I was far from done yet.
I wanted some answers and I wasn’t leaving until I got them.
“Fuck, ease up on the face, man. He won’t be telling us shit if you break his jaw!
” Don cursed at me from across the room.
Rafe had sent him with me that morning, not wanting any of us to be out alone with the threats that seemed to be circling us.
Personally, I thought it was bullshit. If any circling sharks came after me they would rue the fucking day, right before I stuck my knife through their fucking throats.
“Too late, but he can still talk,” I called behind me.
Don was a good guy, and he was a great shot too.
Out of all of the men who worked for Rafe, only two had my complete trust – Don, and Brax.
But Don did not have a strong stomach for torture, which was why he was way back across the basement room, keeping his distance and focussed on his phone which was in his hand.
I did have a strong stomach. Always had.
You didn’t grow up the son of Marcello De Santis’s enforcer and not witness shit that would make your stomach curdle.
From an early age I had been privy to much violence, a lot of it in this very room – a hidden basement annex beneath the De Santis office building in the city.
My father had put a gun in my hand and forced me to shoot a man for the first time when I was thirteen.
At fifteen he had me helping with interrogations just like the one I was conducting now.
By then he had already decided I would take over his role in the family business when he retired, but I had other plans.
I hated my father. He was a monster who beat my mother mercilessly, and ultimately drove her to her suicide.
Then he turned his rage on me, while also trying to shape me into a man as stone cold and evil as he was.
I was ashamed every time I thought about how much of that had stuck. I wasn’t a man who dealt in feelings or emotions. I was straight forward, honest, and a miserable fucking prick. I could be cold and downright deadly, just like my father, if the occasion called for it.
But I had escaped my father when I turned eighteen.
I’d enlisted in the army without telling a soul, and I had disappeared for years.
I worked my way up to Special Forces before I got out, and I learned to work with a team, albeit reluctantly.
I followed orders, and found my own way.
I learned to control the rage and bloodlust my father had fostered within me, or at least to channel it where it belonged.
Was I a good man? No. But I was not my father, and I cared for the people who mattered to me – my family.
I would die for them in a heartbeat if it were required.
So while I could easily torture this man, and several others I had been forced to get answers from in the years I had worked for, and with, Rafe, I didn’t usually enjoy it, not like my Dad would have. I saw it as a means to an end, part of my job that I strived to do effectively and efficiently.
But this was different because this fucker before me, he had taken shots at my family and tried to take Cara from me.
Him, I was going to enjoy torturing, and there wouldn’t be an efficient thing about it.
It was going to be slow, and it was going to fucking hurt.
I fully intended to make him feel every iota of terror he had made Cal and Cara feel in the back of our car the day before, and then some.
And when I had answers I would end him, before I went in search of every other piece of shit who dared to come after me and my family.
“Want to speak while you still can?” I asked him as I leaned in close and pressed the tip of my blade to the corner of his right eye.
“Fuck you!” he spat, the words garbled since I was pretty sure I had broken his jaw. Blood splattered out and I had to sidestep to avoid it getting on my new white trainers.
“I already know that you’re Russian with that accent.
And I can also guess why your scumbag boss would want to get his hands on my perfect Cara!
” I raged, just the thought of Cara trembling in the back of that car making me grip my knife even tighter in my hand.
The desire to plunge it through his eye and end him altogether was all consuming.
“Don’t fucking kill him, Dante. Not yet. Boss’s orders!” Don reminded me.
I stepped back and roared in frustration.
He didn’t deserve to live a second longer after what he had done to my family.
To Cara. She had suffered so much already, and because of this shit stain and his friends from that attack, she had even more fodder for her nightmares.
My need to protect her was all I could think about.
It was a living thing inside of me, demanding I kill this dick and get back to her right the fuck now!
But Rafe wanted answers from him, and since he was the only one we took down alive from the shoot out, I couldn’t kill him.
Yet. So instead I stormed towards him, stabbed my knife right through his hand, which sat on the arm of the chair, then kicked him over, chair and all.
He hadn’t even finished crying out in pain when I crouched down beside him and ripped his head up by a handful of his hair.
“From the ages of ten to eighteen I was trained in every conceivable way to take a man apart piece by piece. I know ways to torture you that you couldn’t even conjure up in your worst fucking nightmares,” I hissed into his face.
“You will give me the answers I need. You don’t have a choice about that, but you do get to decide one thing and one thing only, and that is how much fun I get to have before you tell me everything and I allow you to die. ”
I threw his head down to the cold concrete and I heard him grunt in pain again.
Good. I ripped my knife from his hand, and again he was screaming.
Good thing the room was soundproof, I thought as I wiped his blood off of my blade against his trousers.
I tucked the blade back into the sheath I always wore, which concealed it at the right side of my back, where I could always grab it quickly if needed.
It had been a gift to me from Rafe after I saved his life, and it was one of my prized possessions.
“Come on. Leave him to make his decision,” I announced as I left the scumbag on the ground and looked to Don. “Let’s get breakfast.”
“Breakfast?” Don sputtered. “After that? You’re joking, aren’t you?”
“No. What’s wrong with you? I haven’t even got started yet. Just wait until I get out my instruments,” I laughed as I walked over and clapped my blood splattered hand on his shoulder.
“Jesus, Dante! Wash your hands at least,” Don told me as he skirted away from me and headed for the exit, glancing behind him as he went, like he wasn’t sure if he dare take his eyes off of me.
Wise man. Not that I would hurt him. He wasn’t family, but he was a trusted team member. Never hurt to be wary though.
The basement room, which we generally called ‘holding’ had a fully equipped bathroom attached to it where I could wash up and change if I needed to, but that wasn’t necessary then, so I just washed my hands and checked my black shirt for any spots of blood in the mirror.
I hadn’t expected to find any. I was good at what I did, even if I hated doing it most of the time.
My father taught me well. Just the thought of the fucker sent a shudder through my body.
I was almost to the lobby of the office building when my phone started to ring in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw it was Rafe. I knew he was impatient for any information I could gather.
“I don’t have anything yet,” I told him as soon as I picked up the call.
“You’re there now?” Rafe asked.
“Yep. Worked him over pretty well. Now I’m leaving him to mull over his options while I grab breakfast. How’s Cara?” I asked.
“She’s fine, Dante. I told you not to worry so much. What happened yesterday was not your fault.”
“Yes it was. I was guarding her.”
“Yes, and you did that. You got her home in one piece. She’s safe, and we’ll make sure she stays that way,” he assured me. It did make me feel a little better. I trusted Rafe more than I trusted anyone else in my life. He had proven to have my back again and again, without fail.
“She needs to eat. She’s too thin and weak.”
“She ate breakfast with me earlier. Terza made her poached eggs and bacon on toast, and she ate it all. She’s fine, Dante,” he sighed.
I didn’t worry about him knowing how much I cared for Cara, because he knew the way I was.
I was overly protective with everyone I cared for, so my questions were not unusual.
It was just the way I was wired. Growing up I had only had my mother to love me, and she had been taken from me when I was young.
Now I coveted the people and things I cared for, because I couldn’t stand the thought of losing them.
Rafe understood this. So did Dario, Arran, and Callan, but I worried my overbearing ways would scare Cara off.
That was why I was trying to keep some distance from her, and why I was driving not just Rafe mad, but all of the others too, asking questions about her and her welfare constantly.
But I had to. I needed the answers to reassure the beast within that she was safe, and healthy.
“Good. Make sure she eats lunch too, and rests. Arran said she wasn’t sleeping well, and Dario had to stay with her last night in her room so she wouldn’t be afraid. She needs to rest.”
“How do you know Dario stayed with her last night?”