Chapter Twenty #2
“It’s sad when grown men become jealous like teenage girls.
We’re all here to do the same thing. Trade females and make money.
” His words are revolting. He walks in front of me, talking shit.
I can’t help but kick his leg, making him fall to his knees.
The unexpectedness of my kick caused him to lose his balance and fall forcefully, knocking the air out of him.
With force, I push my gun barrel to his head. “If I could, I’d blow your brains out right now,” I spit down at him. Knowing I can’t let anger overtake me, that’s when shit will get messed up.
He laughs, and at that moment, my vision turns crimson red before I rear back and hit him in the head with the butt of my gun, knocking him out cold. His limp body lies splayed out on his concrete walkway.
I close my eyes for a second, trying my best to calm the anger rising in me.
Gripping his wrist, I drag his stupid ass all the way into his house, not caring about what is being dragged and scraped up…
His forehead is kissing the concrete, catching on it; I have to pull him harder to unpin him from the spot.
I grimace when I see the burn across it, but it doesn’t matter anyway; he’s dead in a short time.
I drop him on his tile floor, his head making a thud when it connects to it. Giving me a sickening thrill.
While he’s still out cold, I use his curtain tiebacks to secure his hands behind his back. Everything can always be used for something; I smile at myself as I roll him over with my booted foot.
“Marco, wake up, sleepyhead.” I kick him in his stomach, making him scream in pain, coming out of a dead knockout. Blood seeps from his forehead, trailing down his face.
“You will not get off that easily, boy.” I pull him up by his arm, making him sit on his ass; he sways. He’s years older than me, but I like to fuck with them. Once, he was feared and respected; now, he gets neither. And I want him to know how far down he has fallen.
Crouching down in front of him, I slap his cheek, forcing his head to the left. “I never can quite understand why men like you decided to go down a different path. You could have had it all,” I say, truly perplexed.
He straightens his head, giving me a bloody smile. “You’re no different from me, boy.” He enunciates that word, thinking he’ll get a rise out of me. I just smile at him.
“You kill for money. You work for men like me. We use men like you to get the job done. If anything, you’re below me.”
My smile widens across my face, morphing my face from neutral to pure evil.
I know when he sees it. When I let my mask slip, the one I wear so I can do this job.
“What you’re mistaken, Marco, is that men like you are the reason I do what I do.
Your evil deeds fill my pockets. There will never be a shortage of men like you.
Evil never ceases to exist. But we’re not the same.
Where you use women, I protect them from pieces of shit like you.
” I rear back, punching him right in his nose, hearing the crunch as my fist connects.
His screams are loud, ear-splitting. I stand up, not wanting to give him any more time.
“Look at me.” I want him to see the man who ends his shitty existence.
Surprisingly, he does, his eyes are watery, his nose gushing with blood, as I put the barrel of my gun to his forehead.
“Also, the difference tonight is I’ll be walking out of here, you want.
” I watch his eyes squint as I pull the trigger.
His head flies back, and in seconds, he’s laid out on his tiled floor, blood oozing from his wound, pooling in a huge puddle, getting wider.
It's amazing how fast a life is gone. One minute breathing, the next just nonexistent.
I wanted the bullet but decided to leave it, truly not knowing where it is, and really not giving a fuck.
I run out the back door, leaving it open in my wake, taking the same path I did on the way in, but this time, I open the gate to exit.
Cutting across the grass, I run a few houses down until I’m far enough away.
As fast as the blink of an eye, I have the box out, the detonator in my hand, and without a second thought, push the button.
Immediately, the ground shakes from the explosion; you can feel it in your chest. Alarms blare; dogs bark as the night lights up. In no time, houses become alive around me, lights turning on, and that’s my cue to head the hell out of here. Not looking back, I do just that as I pocket the detonator.
The minute I turn the corner, my stomach returns to normal; that rush is over, and my body feels heavy.
It’s as if I’m zapped of all energy. I trudge along to Thomas and my meeting place.
Seeing the car, I finish the last few steps, my legs giving out as I open the door, and I climb into the passenger seat. “Let’s go,” I mutter out to him.
Thomas says nothing, only turns on the radio when Metallica's Master of Puppets blares through the speakers and into my ears. I lay my head on the window, staring out in front of me, watching the world blur by.
I lean forward, turning up the volume even louder until it feels like the windows will break, then recline back in the seat as Thomas takes the road, going over the speed limit while pounding on the steering wheel along with the song.
Pulling my cell phone from the console, I boot it up and message Rowan.
*I love you. I’m ready to be home.
Pulling up to the hotel, I remove my beanie, throw on my jacket from the backseat, all while never taking my eyes off my phone screen. It’s been fifteen minutes, and she still hasn’t read her message.
My face screws up as Thomas puts the car in park, seeing my face in the dusting of the hotel lights.
“What’s up?” He finally speaks for the first time since I got in the car.
I ignore him while sending another text.
*Hey, are you good?
“Not sure,” I tell him honestly before opening my tracker app to see where she is. It says she’s at the gym. My heartbeat goes back to normal, knowing she’s okay and safe, allowing me to exit the car and enter the hotel.
“Women, they’re going to be the death of us,” I throw at Thomas.
“Fuck, you’re telling me.” He slaps my back as we step into the elevator, and my phone rings. Looking down, I see it’s Weeks.
“Hey, what’s up?” I ask a silent line. Looking down at my phone, my bars are gone. “If you can hear me, I’ll have to call you back,” I say before ending the call.
My stomach feels like it’s falling as we rise the twenty floors, which has nothing to do with the elevator ride.