Chapter 16 #3
I lifted my gaze and instead of the snarky attitude he’d had up until this point, he wore an expression of pride.
“Power,” I repeated before turning my head toward Mikhail.
Perhaps there was no reason for me to change my mind about torturing the man, but what I’d seen in his eyes was nothing more than true loyalty, the kind that we demanded in all those who worked for us.
Likely to Mikhail’s surprise, I turned off the canister and grabbed my phone instead, taking several photographs of the emblem.
Where in God’s name had I seen it before? It definitely wasn’t gang or cartel related. Not just an emblem, but a crest. A family crest.
Family crests were rarely used in America. Even the founding families hadn’t bothered to keep up with old world traditions. Those in Europe and Russia were more likely. Including Ireland.
Maybe I was growing soft in my old age. Or maybe I didn’t want to disappoint Lainey. Whatever the case, I shifted my attention to the standing by the pulley. “Let him down.”
The employee stared at me briefly before shifting a quick gaze toward Mikhail. I didn’t turn to seek advice from my Pakhan. There was no need.
“Um. Are you certain?”
I clearly intimidated him by the way he stuttered and shifted from foot to foot.
“Do it!” I snarled.
The young man responded instantly. Maybe he realized I was on the edge. Maybe he knew crossing me at this point wasn’t in his best interest.
“Untie him,” I continued.
When the assailant was untied, he struggled to his feet, gasping for air. The pain had to be horrific, yet he refused to give in to the agony. The reason was as unexpected to him as it was to me.
I’d let him go.
I was shocked I hadn’t heard a thing from the peanut gallery, although I knew my brother certainly wouldn’t let this go without chiding me for years. He’d enjoyed doing so at my expense.
The silence was awkward, the only sound a strange ticking from somewhere in the building. I stepped closer. The stench of sweat was strong, but surprisingly, he hadn’t pissed himself. He’d certainly been trained to withstand all acts of torture. I studied his naked body as he was doing to my face.
He had several tattoos, which indicated nothing other than that he was eclectic. Yet no other was as colorful as the crest, a portion gilded in gold. However, I sensed the tattoos were a roadmap to his experiences, which was why I made mental note of the others.
The Irish enjoyed decorating their bodies much like any American biker did. However, they rarely shouted out their loyalty to their particular clans with colorful body art.
“You’re going to be handed off to another organization. What they do with you is none of our concern. But from what I’ve heard, they enjoy spending days in discovery. It’ll be entirely up to you whether you cooperate or not. I honestly don’t give a damn.”
If he thought he would get off scot-free from punishment at the hand of the man whose daughter he’d threatened, he was fucking out of his mind.
I issued several brutal punches, one right after another.
Face.
Nose broken. Jaw possibly cracked.
“That’s for my little girl and her best friend.”
Head.
Light concussion from being body slammed onto the concrete.
“That’s for fucking up her goddamn birthday party.”
Stomach punches.
He’d experience nausea for a little while.
“That’s for breaking into my fucking house.”
Kidney jabs.
He’d need to piss more often, remaining sore for several days.
But he’d live.
“That’s for terrorizing the woman I care about. If you ever do it again, I won’t hesitate again. You will die.”
“That’s enough,” Mikhail said quietly as he grabbed my arm. “He got the point.”
So in tune to what I was doing, I snapped my head toward him. My arm was still reared back, my fist bloodied.
Exhaling, as soon as my eyes were able to focus, I backed down and he let go of my arm.
After glaring down at the man crumpled on the floor, I spun and walked away. The ache in my hand and fingers reminded me I was very much alive.
And I felt a hell of a lot better.
Vissarian flanked my side as I burst from the building. “Excellent self-restraint.”
“Don’t fuck with me. I’m not in the mood.”
“I’m not fucking with you, bro. I’m serious.” He also had to stop me in my tracks before I reached my Corvette.
“Then what? Just fucking say it.”
He shook his head. “If this was seven years ago, we’d be picking up the pieces one by one.”
“Yeah? So what? Maybe I’m a better man.”
“Maybe so. Do you want to know the reason why?”
“Do I? Brother?”
“Stop being an ass and listen to me. Did you hear yourself back there? Did you hear what you said about Lainey?”
Grumbling under my breath, I rubbed my goatee, remembering what she’d said about it early that morning.
“You’re much sexier with a goatee and I like the way it scratches me in all the most delicious places.”
My cock stirred from the thought. “Why don’t you tell me since you’re gloating about it?”
“You said you cared about her. That’s the first time since you lost Selena. Revel in the feeling, bro. You deserve it. You’re finally ready to forgive yourself. All because of a beautiful woman who just set your soul on fire. Look out. Your heart is next.”