Chapter 15
“Where we headed?” Enzo asks, slurping a fucking blue Icee in the passenger seat of my McClaren.
Remind me to never stop for gas with him again…
“I swear to fucking God, Enzo if you spill that in my car, I will run you through a meat grinder, do you hear me?”
My insolent brother pauses, half straw, half spoon contraption stopped inches from his lips. “Jesus, calm the fuck down, it wouldn’t even stain.”
“Enzo,” I warn, my knuckles tightening over the steering wheel as I give him a ‘do not fuck with me’ look he has made his life’s mission to ignore.
“Fine. What’s got your knickers in a bind? Daddy dearest leaves in the morning and will be gone till the Gala. You should be throwing a party, not sulking like someone kicked your puppy.”
“I do not own a puppy,” I grumble.
What has my knickers in a bind? Giovanni fucking Castro, that’s who. When I checked in on things at Cloud Nine, Clarabell notified us one of the girls left the room crying.
We spend a good amount of our time informing our VIP clients of our rules. Rule number one, you make an Angel cry, we make you cry. You rough up an Angel, we administer double the damage, you kill an Angel… You will wish for death.
Giovanni Castro always followed the rules as one of our lower tier members who was recently given VIP status. But now he’s fucked up.
“Castro broke the rules,” I inform my brother as he tosses the empty Slurpee cup into the back seat. My foot slams on the brakes, the nearly eighty-thousand-dollar machine skidding to a halt in the middle of the road. Enzo nearly hits the dash as a car swerves to avoid us. “Pick it up.”
“God, you need to get laid,” he grumbles, reaching into the back and retrieving his cup and tucking it next to his side. “You’re being a fucking cunt.”
Once the cup clears the floor, I press on the gas, ignoring his comment and continuing toward Castro’s apartment. “As I was saying, Castro broke the rules. Clarabell notified me right before I called you.”
Enzo claps his hands, rubbing them together excitedly. “Which rule? Do I get to have fun or are we just roughing him up a bit?”
“He made one of the girls cry, but from what Clarabell told me, she was not harmed.”
He deflates like a balloon. “Well, shit.”
Enzo’s disappointment leaks out of him as he sits pouting and gnawing on the end of the straw like a fucking hamster.
As we pull up to Castro’s apartment, I exit first, buttoning my jacket while Enzo slides out next, completely removing his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, revealing his tattooed forearms. Not that he needs it, but the action heightens his intimidation factor, and a frisson of excitement rolls through me.
I’ve always loved to watch my brother work, the way he can pull pain from someone in the most subtle and sadistic ways.
Extracting physical pain comes easy for him, the emotional turmoil he puts his victims through gets him going.
Since our mother was killed, he’s lost his fire, what makes him... Him. The only time his blazing heat warms me these days is when he’s playing with his victims. Although, I do see a miniscule spark when he’s with Lucy. She is…intriguing.
Seattle rain spits down on us as we walk across the beat-up asphalt.
Climbing rusted stairs, we approach his door, apartment number eighteen.
My knuckles rap against the door three times, no answer.
I knock a little harder this time, and shuffled feet scuff behind the door before we hear the lock flick and the door cracks open, catching on the silver chain.
“Good evening, Mr. Castro.”
The weasel’s pupils dilate as they bounce from me to my brother. I grin when his nostrils flare and he slams the door closed. Before he can lock the deadbolt, I shove my shoulder into the wood and burst through. “Thank you for inviting us in.”
The disappointing configuration of flesh and bone falls to his ass, scurrying backwards until his back hits the wall. “Wh-what do you want? I paid the girl, I swear.” He quakes attempting to stand on trembling legs.
“Wh-wh-wh-what a fucking pussy,” Enzo mocks, walking into Castro’s kitchen, lifting a knife from the block and dropping it back before repeating the action again. The dull thunk of steel meeting wood creates a hypnotic countdown to Castro’s consequence.
I creep closer. “You did pay her. But you made her cry. And that,” I inspect my nails before holding up one finger, “was in violation of rule number one, Giovanni.”
“I-I…” He fidgets, seeking an escape he will not find.
“You see, I do not like it when my Angels cry. Breaks my cold, black heart,” I begin before considering my brother. “And Enzo… Oh don’t get me started on how it makes my brother feel.”
A vindictive grin spreads along my twin’s face, much more sinister than my own. He rounds the kitchen counter, placing himself between Castro and I. “Makes me a bit murder-y.” His shoulders roll back as he cracks his knuckles.
“I’ll pay you double! Triple!” the spineless fool blubbers.
“Your money is as insignificant to me as your life, Giovanni. I merely wanted you to follow my rules.” I step to the side, intending to lean against the counter but the crusted-on grime makes me snarl with disgust. Filthy animal.
“Then what do you want?” His voice wavers and Enzo steps closer, inhaling his fear.
“Your tears.” He growls, snapping forward to grasp Castro by the throat and hauling him up the wall, his feet kicking and nails clawing at my brother’s wrist.
“Gio?” a woman calls from the back bedroom.
Enzo tilts his head, a wide grin blossoming across his lips. “Is honey dearest home?”
“No,” Castro says through bared teeth.
“Maybe I should make your little wife scream my name as I fuck her better than you ever could.” Castro’s pupils flare wide, tears brimming the edges. “Make you watch as she calls my name, loving every second she has the honor of choking on my cock. Hmm?”
Of course, I know Enzo would never do as he threatens. The man has standards, of course, but he’s fucking with Castro’s mind, his favorite form of torture. And as expected, the taunt lands exactly where the psycho little shit was aiming.
Before I can enjoy the moment, the slick fuck pulls a blade from somewhere behind him and shoves it into Enzo’s abdomen.
“Fuck!” Enzo screams, dropping Castro as the little weasel runs to the back bedroom.
“He fucking stabbed me.” Enzo pokes at the wound as red grows across his white button up and I rush toward him.
“For fuck’s sake, Fratello, keep pressure on it!”
Enzo takes a step toward the back. “I want…little…” He sways on his feet, blinking rapidly.
I let out a low growl at the predicament. A blinding rage simmers under my skin, driving me toward chasing after Castro but my brother’s paling skin pulls me from my revenge.
I will come back for him.
Hooking Enzo around the waist with one arm, I half-drag him from the apartment.
“I can’t believe he stabbed me?” His words slur as he fights unconsciousness. He’s losing too much blood. I manage not to slip on the metal stairs as the rain pours down on us, washing red down the gravel path.
“Fuck.” I shake his shoulder when I lean him against the car so I can open the door. He falls into the back seat with a maniacal laugh.
“He fucking skewered me like a kabob.”
“Enzo. Stop. Talking.”
“I’m proud of the little pussy–”
I slam the back door closed, jogging to the driver seat, and climbing in. Speeding out of the parking lot, I glance back once when his laughter dies. He’s pale and sweaty. Fuck!
Reaching back, I slam my fist into his chest. “Enzo! Wake the fuck up! If you let a weak, scrawny fuck like Giovanni Castro take you out, I will pull you from hell’s clutches myself and put a bullet between your eyes!”
He groans, clutching his wound. “You’d have to catch me first, brother.”
Jesus, that doesn’t even make sense. And now blood covers my back seat, pooling on the floorboard right next to a blue stain from the fucking Icee.