Chapter 24 Good Fucking Riddance #2
“Oh, please,” he snarled. His knees buckled, and he fell back against the SUV hard.
Not gonna lie, it was immensely satisfying seeing the great Elio Messina all out of sorts with a bloodied face.
But it didn’t hit quite as well as I’d hoped after ten years of imagining this day.
“You’re a dumber bitch than I thought if you assume I’m the only one wanting to watch you bleed out!
You’ve fucked over too many bosses to have any allies left in the Assembly. ”
“You mean those old wrinkled ballsacks sitting in their panic rooms across the ocean from us?” In a show of disgust, I turned my head to spit on the ground.
“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Elio’s beady blue eyes followed every step as I meandered closer.
He was such a horrible actor. Even after all this time, he couldn’t control himself, staring at me with that same horny look he had when I lay broken at his feet.
“The difference between bosses like you and bosses like me is that I don’t need allies.
Especially ones with the double trouble of both tiny dicks and brains.
Trust me when I say they are the least of my concerns right now. ”
Bang!
The dumbass wasn’t even paying attention to my hand while I was closing in.
The bullet to his kneecap came as a total shock, which had him howling in pain; it was music to my ears.
As he bent to nurse the new hole, I rushed forward and sent my knee right into his face, knocking him back into the car to slide down and land on his ass.
The tip of my gun to Elio’s temple made him stiffen, still grasping at his ruined leg as he stared up at me with hatred burning in his stare.
Damn pervert still had a raging boner poking from behind his pants’ straining zipper.
Oh, how I wanted to stomp on that diseased dick until it turned to mush under my foot…
“So you thought, what? Just because Andrea gave you my location, that I wouldn’t fuck you up if you actually showed your face here?
” A sweat broke out across his forehead.
To his benefit, he hadn’t started whimpering too much, despite his obviously crushed nose and bullet wound.
He must have smashed his face against the window when the wheels were blown out, judging from the red smear on the inside.
My hand snapped to the front of his throat, and I hoisted Elio up to slam his back against the driver’s door.
The hit knocked his breath from his lungs.
“I’m gonna enjoy dragging out your death as long as feckin’ possible.
We’re gonna go for the Guinness World Record of most resuscitations on a single body.
Oh, maybe we’ll make it a little competition between you and Gabriele! ”
Despite the glare Elio tried to maintain, a heavy shudder shook his body in my grasp. The toes of his expensive dress shoes barely scuffled against the ground as I lifted him higher. “You… can’t kill me,” he sputtered. His face was turning a deep shade of red from lack of air.
Every cell of my body was repulsed at being even this close to my former abuser. The urge to retch in his face was riding me hard. I managed to lean more of my weight on his throat hard enough to have him gasping for air and gripping my wrist with both hands in a sad attempt to break loose.
“Watch me, bitch.” And with my other hand still holding the Glock, I whipped the shit out of his temple with it.
Elio Messina, a man who’d haunted my dreams the last ten years of my life, slumped in my grip with one measly hit, unconscious.
I let his body drop heavily to the ground and stepped back.
“Get him tied up and loaded in the trunk,” I barked at three Riot members nearby.
One hurried off to the SUV Taylor requested, and the other two moved closer with their guns aimed at Elio’s limp body and loomed over him.
“I’ll take care of the police and meet you at the warehouse.
Someone bring Gabriele too. Knock his ass out first.”
They responded as one, “Yes, boss.”
It was barely dusk when I pulled into the warehouse compound with my small group of Riot guards.
I had gone down to the station to meet with the chief and sort out the details of Elio’s presence in Vegas.
Generally speaking, the LVPD didn’t involve itself in matters related to the Red Riot or its subsidiaries.
Considering the general crime rate had gone down since we’d settled in Vegas, it was an uneasy truce to leave us be when shit like this went down.
But when we did have higher-than-usual activity, I had to check in and give information for the reports, so there was some semblance of justice being enforced.
At the moment, they were more pissed about all the collisions and traffic jams caused by Gabriele chasing me down.
Those were a little harder to explain away.
It felt like a lifetime had passed since then, not just a day.
I also called Doc to check on Grant. He had slept for most of the day with no issues, which brought a relief I hadn’t realized I needed until I hung up the phone and breathed a sigh that loosened my shoulders.
His bite mark had already healed, leaving a perfect impression of his teeth, right down to the crooked left canine I loved to stare at when he smiled. Blood still stained my skin around it.
Gabriele and Elio were tied to chairs set in the center of the massive warehouse, facing each other.
Stacked boxes were pushed to the walls to leave plenty of space for a car to drive in for cleanup.
Someone had placed a rolling cart beside them with my favorite tools of torture, along with a couple buckets of water on its lower shelf.
One of them was half-filled with ice as well.
I grabbed that bucket and, standing far enough away to avoid the backsplash, tossed the frigid water on Elio’s slumped body.
He came to sputtering and gasping beneath the soaked bag on his head, pulling against his ties enough to realize he wasn’t going anywhere.
His ankles were zip-tied to the chair’s legs, and his hands were wrenched behind him, strapped to the back so they weren’t touching.
Gabriele was still slumped over, oblivious to the world with a matching black cloth sack covering his face.
“What the fuck! Where the fuck am I?” His eyes rolled like a scared cow as his nostrils flared wide. Then his gaze settled on me, and he started cursing. “Let me go, stupida puttana inutile! When your father finds out what you did, he’ll–”
My boot landed squarely between his legs, kicking his balls hard enough to send him sliding back a couple feet as his howls filled the space.
“Really,” I scoffed. “That’s what you’re going with?
You’re going to tell my daddy? Fuck you, Elio!
That man hasn’t been my father since the day he sold me off to you!
” I snatched a stiletto blade from the cart and twirled it around my fingers.
Elio watched its path with something close to concern.
“What I want to know is, how long have you and Andrea been jerking each other off? You must have offered up something pretty juicy to tempt him to try feckin' me over. Chicago isn’t that far away…”
Elio’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his chin to a stubborn angle.
“I’m not telling you shit, you–” He finally registered his son sitting across from him.
“What the fuck? Who is that?” Italian streamed from his mouth, spittle flying with whatever he was desperately trying to communicate to an unconscious Gabriele.
“You bitch! Is that Gabriele? What did you do to him?”
The rest of his vile insults were cut short when the blade in my hand ended up buried in his right eyeball.
Watching it pop and ooze down his face as he screamed had to be one of the hottest things I’d ever seen, aside from anything associated with my mate.
One hand wrapped around to grip Elio’s sweat-drenched hair as I slowly drew the blade back out with a wet shlep sound.
The remnants of his eye dangled from the blade’s tip, and I flicked it to the ground.
It hardly looked different from hocked mucus spat on the dirty concrete.
The scream that tore itself from his throat was a balm on my blistering rage.
Peace washed over me, seeing one of those lecherous eyes he dared to leer at me with now nothing more than a blob on the floor.
That was a lifetime ago, and I was a woman resurrected out of pure spite.
“Wanna try that again?”
Elio's whimpers and sniffles mixed with the strained gasps sawing from his mouth.
With the tip of the blade, I nudged him under the chin and tilted his head back up from where it hung so I could admire my handiwork.
The torn hole where his eye used to be gaped wide as blood poured down his cheek, turning half his face into a bloody mess.
Gradually, I sank the tip into the soft skin of his throat until more beads of his blood welled beneath it.
He swallowed hard and I dug it in even deeper.
“What’s Andrea planning, hm?” I asked, my voice sickly sweet.
Even with a knife at his throat, I could see his nose flare wide to take my scent in as I moved ever so slightly closer.
This sick fuck never got over me, it seemed.
A crazed obsession he couldn’t let go of.
But mixed with that unhinged fixation was a hatred that still burned in his remaining eye, which brought back some vivid memories of when I was in his position, sitting in his lustrous penthouse while he tortured me for days on end.