Chapter 4
After sliding into the car with my father, I leaned against the door and groaned. He was barking orders, and when we were a few blocks from Joel’s place, he punched the divider between us and the driver.
“Insolent child!”
“She’s brazen. I’ll give her that.” I couldn’t help the instant physical attraction that had rocketed through me when she’d put her hand around my throat, or shot through the can of soda, though. “At least she has a mess to clean up.”
I felt my father’s stare as he studied me, and when I turned to face him, there was a scowl on his face. “You don’t want her, do you?”
“She’s pretty, but I don’t like petulant brats, Father. The only thing that woman has is the same blood as someone I considered a friend, before he betrayed the family.”
He huffed in annoyance. “Joel almost cost us a very important ally. We need Juarez’s men and transport across the border. Shipments aren’t going to move themselves.”
“I still don’t understand why you have to marry Rhea off to him, though.” My voice was low and respectful, but that didn’t matter. The sting across my cheek was sharp, as I slowly met his gaze.
“The best alliances are those made through marriage and blood. She will produce heirs for him. Give him a bloodline to continue in San Diego, just as I am working on finding you a wife for you to continue ours.”
“I’m capable of finding my own spouse, Father.”
Shaking his head, he sighed. “Maybe Hallaway will be open to marrying you. Two families joined in marriage here in Trenton. We would give even Vispania a run for his money.”
I doubted that. The Vispania and Velarde families had been running this town since the eighteen hundreds. With Max Vispania’s wife now pregnant with the next generation, the next century had also been secured.
My phone rang, and I answered it. “Talk quickly.” I wasn’t in the mood for bullshit. That woman had me on edge.
“Sir, the latest shipment of snow and psilocybin was hijacked in Barstow,” the voice on the other end reported.
Growling, my father snapped his head toward me as I pinched the bridge of my nose and asked, “How do you hire such pathetic carriers, Marchlon?”
There was a tremble in his voice as he answered me, but it was too quiet in the background. “I-I don’t know, sir. My men are looking into it.”
“Are they now? Are they really looking into it, or are they currently tripping balls because they are high as fuck and watching the pink unicorn hippo fly across the living room because they decided to use my shit?” My father’s jaw tightened, and I saw it work back and forth as I continued, “You find them. You kill them. You find my shipment and get it here within the next twenty-four hours. If you don’t, I will personally take every gram out of your hide. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
When I hung up, my father’s voice was tight. “Do I want to know how much money he just lost me?”
I ran my hand through my hair. “Probably not, but I’ll tell you anyway. Marchlon’s guys lost our latest shipment in Barstow.”
“Fucking worthless.”
I couldn’t agree more. He’d become an ever-worsening problem, and one day soon, I was going to gut him.
The rest of the drive to the house was in silence, but my mind kept bouncing between the problem with Marchlon and my new blonde-haired bitch of a partner.
When we finally got back and inside, I turned to head to my office, but my father stopped me.
“Between now and Tuesday, I want you to find out everything you can about that tramp. She was much too willing to pull a gun on us. Find out how we can rein her in. Then, I want you to keep a very close eye on her. I can’t have her messing up things with Juarez. ”
“Yes, Father.” When he didn’t move, I asked, “Is there anything else?”
I’d seen the look in his eyes before, and it usually ended in me coated in blood. There was cold calculation that had my fingers itching.
“Marchlon. I think the Owl’s Talon needs to pay him a visit. If he can’t get the shipments back on track, replace him.”
Excitement ran through my veins as I nodded. “As you wish. I’m at your service.”
I waited the twenty-four hours for Marchlon to get his shit together, spending that time researching my new partner, Elin Perkins.
Twenty-eight years old, she was doing well financially, and the fact she graduated from Pepperdine at 25 with honors was impressive.
She’d worked part-time for a bit, but then her tax records only provided that she was self-employed as a consultant, which I remembered her father telling me about.
Only, I couldn’t find anything on where or who she was consulting with.
I’d checked with all the local hospitals, charities, and private firms in the city, even in Sacramento.
Hell, I’d even had one of my guys scour the internet for her. Nothing.
She had a couple of social media accounts, but they weren’t all that enlightening.
Other than a few pictures of her and Joel and a couple vacations, there wasn’t much.
It was almost too clean. There was a lot more information since Joel’s death—his obituary, news articles, and a blurb about her taking over the club.
Staring off at a dent in the wall, I wondered if Joel had brought someone on his payroll to scrub her from the internet.
I closed my laptop, deciding Marchlon’s time had run out. After grabbing a couple of knives, my special ring with a hook, shaped to look like an Owl’s Talon, and a full assortment of guns, I stepped out of the office. One of my guys, Harley, looked up in question.
“Feel like getting wet?”
An evil smirk crossed his face. “Hell yes. Haven’t spilled blood in days.”
He was on his feet and heading toward me, practically bouncing on his toes. “Meet me in the car.”
Harley nodded and bounded upstairs. I, on the other hand, stepped up to my father’s study and knocked.
“Come in.”
Turning the knob on the dark wood door, I pushed it open and found him with his phone at his ear. “Yes, yes. Of course. Just get it done.”
When he hung up, I smirked, feeling anxious to get on the road. It had been a hot minute since I’d spilled blood, and with as much money as Marchlon had cost us, I was going to have a lot of fun. “My talon is sharpened and ready to shred. I’m taking Harley.”
“Very well. Put Rojas in charge. See if he can do any better.”
With a nod, I turned and headed out.
It took twenty minutes to get to the damn warehouses due to a wreck on the boulevard, but it just gave me time to think about how I wanted to do this.
Slowly. I want to do this methodically, draw it out.
When we walked in, Marchlon was in the open expanse of where there should be crates of synthetic cannabinoids and shrooms. He froze at the sight of me, and Rojas, who was standing next to him, took a step back and tried to excuse himself.
“I will leave you to your discussions.”
When I lifted a finger, he halted. “Actually, I’m glad you are here, Rojas. Why don’t you have a seat on that crate?”
His throat bobbed as he took a few steps and sat there with his clipboard in his hand. Turning my focus back to Marchlon, I sighed. “I see my inventory still hasn’t arrived.”
His eyes bounced between the three of us, and I jerked my chin toward him. Harley strode over, grabbed him by the arms, and forced him to sit. In no time, his arms and feet were bound to one of the metal chairs that littered the room.
“Again, where are my crates?”
His eyes were large as I slipped a knife out from my belt. As I twirled it around in my hand, he muttered, “My men are still working on it. Rojas was just giving me an update.”
Without removing my gaze from Marchlon, I tilted my head to the side. “Is that so, Rojas?”
“Yes, sir.” I waited for him to continue, and when he didn’t, I turned my head to look at him, meeting his gaze, lifting my eyebrows.
“Sorry. We had a lead, but when my men got there, the place was swarming with feds taking inventory of our stock. I’ve reached out to one of my contacts at the DEA, but I haven’t heard back from him yet. ”
I let out a large sigh. “I really hoped that you could save the shipment, Marchlon. Now the fucking feds have our supply?” Crouching down, I grabbed the bottom of his pants, slipped the knife between the fabric and skin, and proceeded to cut his jeans, then his shirt from his body.
Standing back a moment, I inhaled deeply, taking in his fear that saturated the air.
It fed the viciousness in my blood. Kept it pumping, adrenaline surging throughout my body, causing me to smile.
This was what I was good at. This gave me pride and purpose.
Harley chuckled. “I never thought you’d be scared of the end, Marchlon. Though, I don’t think you expected the Owl’s Talon to come for you.”
Nodding, I examined my canvas, debating where to start as I stepped up to him and pulled his hair back.
Inspecting his face, I took my hook and pressed it against the outer corner of his eyeball.
Slowly, my talon raked around it, slicing through the vessels and skin.
It resisted at first, then gave way with a wet, sucking sound as it tore free from its socket, spilling an oil-like substance down his face and into his open maw.
The eyeball dangled against his cheek, suspended by a glistening rope of nerve, a scream emanating at the top of his lungs.
I cherished the screech and pushed down the bubble of laughter in my chest.
“See, here is the thing. If you know I’m coming, you can brace for it.
Prepare for the pain. But you don’t get to know what is coming your way tonight.
You’ve lost that privilege. So, I’m taking your sight.
” Smirking, I let the last thing he saw be my fiery gaze as I reached in and repeated the process with his other eye.
His breaths came in quick, short bursts, and I savored the rush that flowed through my veins, breathing in deeply.
Shaking some of the oily substance off my fingers and claw, I had to admit I was impressed he hadn’t passed out.
Slowly, I unsheathed a knife as he panted and ran it down the center of his chest—not deep, just enough to wound.
With blood welling, I lifted the blade and Harley handed me a new one.
With my left hand, I ran the tip of the knife along his shoulder, while with the right, I thrust the blade of my used knife into his groin, puncturing his dick.
The ear-piercing scream that filled the air had me chuckling before the sound was cut off by his passing out.
Electing to leave the knife in place, so that he wouldn’t bleed out too quickly, I allowed myself to look over at Rojas, who was ghost white.
“Congrats, you’ve been promoted. Now get my shipment back. ”
“Yes, sir. May I be excused to proceed with the hunt?”
I nodded and watched as he ran to the office and immediately vomited into his trash basket. I was actually impressed by the fact he had made it that long.
Marchlon had a beautiful tattoo on his chest that I knew to be dedicated to his mother, and I really hated to ruin an artist's good work.
I carved around the ink, careful to leave some extra room around it, before slowly peeling it back, cutting it away from fat and muscle.
When I was done, I handed it to Harley. “Can you make sure this is preserved and given to his mother?”
“Of course, sir.” He took it and went to take care of it.
I played with the knife, enjoying the warmth of blood on my hands. As I lifted the blade, watching the thick red fluid slide down to the hilt, I smiled. There was something soothing and satisfying about the way blood moved. So fluid, yet with more purpose than water.
Marchlon groaned as his eyes flickered open, but they were unfocused, looking far beyond anything within this room.
“Oh good, you’re not dead. Thought playtime was over already.” Turning to Harley, I jerked my head in Marchlon’s direction. “Let’s make some steaks.”
Over the next hour, I skinned him alive, blood flowing and skin slapping onto the floor as I sheared piece after piece off.
He lasted longer than expected. Finally stopped breathing a few minutes into it.
I stood to stretch my back and instructed Harley to untie Marchlon and lay him flat on the concrete.
When he was done, I went to work cutting the muscle away from the bone, and after a while, there was nothing recognizable left.