Chapter 70 Kingston
Kingston
The pride swells in my chest as Ace admires her handiwork before stepping away from her victim and toward me. Unable to control myself, I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and tug her into my chest before dropping a hard kiss to her pouty lips.
“You sure you don’t have any more questions for this fucker?” I mutter against her mouth.
She nods. “Yeah. He was nothing but a monster. And now my very own supervillain gets to defeat him while I have a front-row seat.”
After a breath of laughter, I ask, “You wanna stay?” I can’t hide my disbelief. I’d assumed she’d retreat to our room to clean herself up while I get a few more answers I need before putting a bullet in his skull.
“Positive,” she breathes, peeking up at me. There’s no fear. No hesitation. Just trust. Anticipation. And an overwhelming need for peace.
Pressing my mouth against hers for a second time, I murmur, “Then let’s get this over with.”
I turn to Burlone to see him watching our interaction with open hatred, but he’s smart enough to hold his tongue.
“Never knew you were such a softie,” he notes. “She tastes pretty sweet, doesn’t she? You should’ve seen her when––”
My fist connects with his already bruised jaw, causing his head to swing to the side as red-tinged spittle flies from his mouth.
Apparently, he’s not as smart as I’d assumed.
“Careful, Burlone,” I warn as the deep ache in my knuckles centers me. “The Romano family let you get away with too much for too long. But not anymore.”
“Fuck you,” he spits, more saliva flying. “If you honestly think I’m not going to walk out of this room, you’re more dense than I thought.”
With a dark laugh, I give him my back and begin sorting through a few items tucked away in the cabinet.
However, there’s something about the switchblade lodged into Burlone’s leg that calls to me.
I shake my head. It won’t work for the specific techniques I have in mind.
Sighing, I reach for one of my favorites––a six-inch blade with a polished ebony handle that fits perfectly in my grip. My mouth pulls into a grin.
At a lazy pace, I circle the poor bastard who’s strapped to a chair in the middle of my interrogation room––one slow step at a time.
“I find it interesting that you actually think I’d let you go after everything you’ve done.
Let’s just put a pin in the fact that you tortured my girlfriend.
That you raped her. Sent one of your men to beat the shit out of her.
And scarred her in more ways than you could ever imagine.
Don’t worry, though; she’s stronger than you could ever imagine.
Not only did she beat you at your own game; she did it twice.
” My pride swells a second time as my attention shifts to her.
She nods softly, encouraging me to continue.
Clearing my throat, I try to focus on the task at hand instead of the brunette bombshell who’s about to see a whole new side of me.
And for once, I’m not terrified she’ll run in the other direction.
“Let’s focus on the fact that you took the princess of the Romano family, shall we?
” I pause when I’m behind him, enjoying the way my presence makes him squirm.
He cranes his neck to keep me in his view as I watch tiny goosebumps pop up along the back of his head before disappearing beneath his stained white shirt.
“You’ve had your fun, Kingston,” he argues.
I laugh before tightening my grip around the knife in my right hand.
“No. I think I’m just beginning.” Pressing my right forearm against his left temple roughly, he has no choice but to rest his right ear against the top of his shoulder.
I angle his head until the entire left side of his neck is exposed toward the ceiling.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait, Kingston. Be reasonable. You’ve had your fun. I’ve learned my lesson. Besides, no one touched your sister. I kept her safe––”
His words morph into screams as I grip the shell of his left ear then slice through the skin with exact precision. Even though the blade is wicked sharp, I have to saw at the cartilage as Burlone’s blood oozes down his neck.
His arms tug against their restraints, his head jerking back and forth, but I don’t release him until his ear is in my hand. Lazily, I toss it in his lap.
“Apparently, you weren’t listening to me very well, Burlone. Maybe now you’ll try a little harder to cooperate. Capiche?”
The tears are streaming freely down his face, his lower lip quivering pathetically. But the hatred in his eyes? That’s giving me the information I need. He wants me to burn for my actions. Now, I need to find out if it’s possible that I might.
“Good boy.” I wipe the blood from my left hand along the top of his head, smearing it into his hair while treating him like a dog.
Hell, like a little bitch. I smirk at the thought.
“You’re never going to breathe air outside of this room.
Ever. Again,” I divulge. “The sooner you realize that, the sooner we can get the answers we need. And the sooner we can put you out of your misery. However, if you don’t feel like being helpful, I’m more than happy to persuade you a little more. Any questions?”
“Motherfu––”
“Careful, Burlone,” I tsk, raising the crimson-colored blade into the air. “I still need your tongue, but you have plenty of other appendages that I don’t find necessary to getting the answers I want. Nod if you understand.”
His swelling jaw is clenched tight, and his beady eyes hold so much hatred, I’m surprised I’m still standing.
“Nod,” I bark.
And like a good little boy, he does.
“Good boy,” I repeat, condescendingly. “Who knew about the tournament? Anyone else that wasn’t on the email list?”
He remains silent. That is until I grab his wrist and drag the edge of the knife along his middle knuckle.
“Fine!” he squeals like a little pig, struggling against my firm grasp. “Fine, I’ll tell you!”
Releasing him, I stand to my full height and cross my arms, being careful of the blade in my right hand. “Start. Talking.”
“I can only speak for the Allegretti family.”
“And what did they know?” I press in a cool tone.
“That I was throwing a tournament together.”
“Did you have any buyers lined up for the girls?”
He laughs. “You mean the fruit? Of course.” At the mention of his favorite conquest, he brightens. “Any good businessman would have a buyer lined up for fresh merchandise. Don’t you?”
“Have a buyer? For the girls? No. I don’t believe in selling women, remember?”
“I meant I’m sure you always have a buyer lined up for the drugs.
The guns. The…information.” With a smirk, his cloudy gaze moves from mine to Ace’s.
“Do you know who you’re screwing, Pretty Girl?
Because if you did, I think you’d be running in the other direction.
Sure, I’m not a good guy, but he isn’t a saint, either. ”
“I know exactly who I’m sleeping with,” Ace replies indifferently from behind me. “But thanks for your concern.”
“If I’d have known you’d slip into bed with someone of our caliber willingly, I’d have––”
“Careful,” I interrupt. “I have a few more questions that I need answers to, and I’m afraid if you keep talking, I won’t be able to control myself.”
“Then get to the point, Kingston. I’m afraid I’ve grown bored of your little game.”
“I thought you loved games, remember?” With a sarcastic laugh, I wave the knife through the air. “But you’re right. I’ve got more important shit to do today than let you breathe much longer. Who were the buyers?”
Annoyed, he mutters, “You already know. They were in the process of purchasing before your lie swayed them––”
“I meant the buyers you’d lined up for after you won the tournament. We both know you’re too much of a cocky sonofabitch to not have assumed you’d come out the victor.”
“Touche.” He smirks. “Unfortunately, I don’t know the names off the top of my head.”
“Lie. Who were they?”
“Why does it matter?” he argues. “They’re not getting the girls.”
“Yes. But they’re likely looking for them. Answer me.”
“No.”
Impatient, I turn back to the cabinet and grab a set of pliers with the intention of ripping out a few of his fingernails. When he sees them in my hand, he shakes his head back and forth rapidly.
“Fine! I don’t know the names off the top of my head, but we corresponded through email. I’m sure your tech gurus can take it from there. J-just put it down.” He stares at the pliers as if they’re a damn viper that could strike at any second.
Interesting.
Once Lou breaks into his email, we might be able to find out the location of Q’s buyer and can keep her far away from him to avoid any chance encounters. We can’t let anyone recognize her, or she’ll end up in a casket.
Satisfied, with his previous answer, I say, “Last question. Was Vince the only guy you were in contact with in the Romano family?”
I keep my expression indifferent, though my entire body is vibrating with anxiety.
The asshat gives me a sinister smile. The blood from his internal bleeding––I think I can thank Q for that––stains his teeth, making him look like something straight out of a horror movie.
“I’d heard about Vince’s disappearance. It’s a shame. I didn’t even have to work for his intel. He gladly handed it over in a handbasket.”
“Answer the question.”
Beady eyes narrowing, he assesses me. I know what he’s looking for. Weakness. Uncertainty. Fear.
I show him nothing.
“Watch your back, Kingston,” he divulges cryptically. “Someone has a target on it.”
“Who.” It’s a question, even though I’ve voiced it as a statement.
He sneers. “Who doesn’t?”
Patience obliterated, I grab the handle in his leg from Ace’s switchblade and twist it deeper into his thigh muscle.
His curse is loud and shrill as he drops his head back and looks toward the ceiling.
“I don’t know who it is! I don’t know!”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”