10. Marco
Chapter Ten
MARCO
The second I get word on Ben’s location from Liam, I don’t hesitate. The fucker has already lived long enough, and it’s about time he pays for what he’s done.
I don’t tell Clara where I’m going. Even though I know she has no relationship with her brother anymore, they once did, which could count for something if it comes down to life or death.
I don’t need her trying to talk me out of what I’m about to do.
My mind is already made up, and nothing is going to change it. So, I grab my gun, slide my knife into its holster, and head out the door.
The location Liam sent through isn’t far from the warehouse where Tommaso was keeping Clara.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up as I think back to those days, when I thought I had lost her forever. It feels like a lifetime ago, and yet I have a feeling those memories will never fade.
I pull up outside a run-down apartment complex on the outskirts of the city. The brick exterior is faded and cracked, and most of the windows are boarded up.
It’s exactly the sort of place where a convict on the run would hide out.
When I head inside, I find it just as much of a dump as the outside.
The place reeks of piss and cigarettes, and I wrinkle my nose as I head up the two flights of stairs, before coming to a stop outside Ben’s door.
I roll my shoulders and crack my knuckles, before lifting my foot and kicking the fucker clean off its hinges.
The crack of splintering wood echoes through the small space.
The door crashes to the floor, revealing a dimly lit living room, with Ben standing in the center.
He looks like shit.
His face is unshaven, and he’s wearing clothes that are wrinkled and stained.
Not just that but even from across the room, I can tell that he reeks of alcohol.
He’s barely a shell of the smiling youth I saw in the pictures Liam gave me.
Ben’s eyes go wide as I step inside the apartment before he starts to back up, as if realizing why I’m here.
I scan the room once to make sure he’s alone, clocking the dirty dishes stacked high in the sink and the overflowing ashtray on the coffee table.
“This is where you’ve been hiding?” I shake my head. “Pathetic.”
Ben shrugs, doing his best to look unfazed by my sudden appearance. “What can I say? The city’s expensive.”
I’m not here to chit chat. I cross the room in a few strides, and then I’m slamming a fist straight into his stomach, watching with grim satisfaction as he doubles over, gasping for air.
But I’m not done. Not even close.
Sinking my fingers into his shirt, I yank him upright just so I can land another swift punch to his stomach, and then one to his ribs.
He grunts, but it’s not enough.
I pull back, then send my fist right into his jaw.
His head snaps to the side as blood starts trickling down his chin from his split lip.
But I don’t give him a chance to react before I grab him by the collar and slam him against the wall, knocking the last of the air from his lungs.
“You think you can touch my family and live to tell the tale?” I growl, wrapping my hands around his throat, squeezing just enough to make his eyes bulge.
Ben’s fingers claw at my wrists as he struggles to breathe.
I tighten my grip, ready to end this.
“Wait—”
His eyes, so much like Clara’s, make me hesitate, and I loosen my hands just enough for him to drag in a breath.
“I-I can help you,” he chokes, his voice breaking from the pressure still on his throat. “You need me.”
I loosen my grip a little more but don’t let go entirely.
For all I know, this is just another game to him, and I’m in no mood to lose.
“Start talking.”
Ben coughs, choking down air. “I’m not working for Tommaso. Not really.”
I narrow my eyes.
How dumb does he think I am?
“Try again.”
“I swear.” He coughs, his voice still hoarse. “I’m working for Cillian.”
Cillian?
“That’s not possible.”
“I’m a…mole,” Ben chokes. “I was feeding Tommaso’s men bullshit, trying to stay on the inside long enough to get something useful for him.”
It’s a little too convenient of a story. I grind my teeth, trying to decide whether or not I believe a goddamn word coming out of his mouth.
But I can’t deny that he has me intrigued. “Useful how?”
Ben shakes his head. “I’m not saying anything else…without security.”
I squeeze his throat again, making him grunt. “Security? You’re in no fucking position to negotiate.”
Ben’s face is slowly turning purple as he fights for air, but somehow he still finds it in himself to smirk, the prick. “Take me to see Clara,” he chokes out.
My body tenses at Clara’s name on his lips.
He has some fucking nerve mentioning her, but I know why he’s doing it.
Ben knows Clara would likely step to stop me from killing him out of guilt and loyalty to a family that he betrayed. She’s got too big of a heart, one of the many things I love about her, and the little shit knows it.
But if Ben truly is working for Cillian…
I hate to use Clara as a bargaining chip, but it seems Ben has also inherited the Peterson stubbornness. That mixed with the fact that he has nothing to lose makes for a dangerous combination.
He would likely rather die than hand over information without knowing there is something in it for him.
It looks like taking Ben to visit Clara might be my only option, but not that easily. This is my game. My rules.
“There’s no fucking way you’re getting anywhere near Clara unless you give me something now. And only I get to decide if it’s good enough, got it?”
Ben nods, and I reluctantly remove my hands from around his neck, but I don’t take a step back. I’m not that much of an idiot.
Ben licks his bloody lips, hesitating just a second. “Cillian’s involved in some seriously depraved shit.”
“That’s not news to me.”
“No.” Ben shakes his head. “It’s worse than you think. I’m talking sex slavery. The kind with auctions and underage girls.”
I tense, my pulse thrumming as his words sink in.
Surely, if Cillian was caught up in that sort of thing, either myself or Andre would have heard about it from the grape vine.
It’s likely Ben is just using shock-factor to try and distract me, and unfortunately for him, it’s not going to work.
“Bullshit.”
“It’s not. I heard him talking about it. And that’s not all. I heard him talking about you , too.”
I keep my expression neutral, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “Yeah? And what was he saying?”
Ben’s eyes flicker slightly, like he knows he’s about to reel me in for good. “He said you think you’re better than everyone else. That it’s going to be fun watching you get your hands dirty for once.”
A cold shiver runs down my spine.
“Dirty how?”
Ben shakes his head, pressing his lips together. “I’m not saying another word until I see Clara.”
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand down my face before stepping back. “Wrong answer.”
Ben barely has time to process what’s happening before I grab his arm and twist it backwards.
He cries out in pain, and I take the momentary distraction as an opportunity to quickly reach into my pocket and pull out a zip tie.
I wrench Ben’s hands behind his back and secure them tight.
He grunts as he tries to pull against the tie, the skin around his wrists already turning pink.
I shove him toward the door. “We’re going for a little ride.”
The drive to my family’s warehouse is silent, except for the occasional pained groan from Ben shifting in the back seat.
My grip is tight on the wheel, my jaw locked, as my mind races with everything Ben has told me so far.
Could Cillian really be involved in sex trafficking?
It’s not exactly unheard of among the sort of circles I run in but still, it’s not ever something I saw Cillian being caught up in.
The thought makes me uneasy, especially when I owe him a favor.
The second I confirm if this is true, there won’t be a hole deep enough for that son of a bitch to hide in. I’m no saint, but even I know where the line is.
As I pull the car up to the warehouse, a pang of guilt hits deep in my gut as I think of Clara.
Despite what she says about Ben, I can’t help but fear that she might come to regret walking away from him. If she does and he ends up dying at my hand…
My mouth goes dry as I think about losing her all over again.
“Where are we?” Ben asks from the back seat, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“My brother and I nicknamed this place the slaughterhouse. ” I glance over my shoulder at Ben. “You and I are going to have some fun.”
Ben keeps his expression neutral, but I notice the color slowly draining out of his face.
I flash him a grin before climbing out of the car.
“Time to go.” I grab Ben by the arm.
He grunts as I pull him out of the car, but that only makes me tighten my grip as I start to drag him forward.
When I catch him looking up at the warehouse, with its steel walls and heavy padlocked doors, his bravado finally starts to slip.
“Come on, man.” His voice is strained as I bang my fist on the heavy metal door. “You don’t have to?—”
A heavy chain clinks on the other side of the door.
When the door opens, I shove Ben inside.
The scent of old metal and concrete instantly hits my nose along with the faint metallic smell of dried blood.
“This him?”
I glance to my left to see a handful of my men waiting, all wearing identical looks of disgust as they eye Ben.
I figured this meeting could go one of two ways.
Either I get to Ben’s apartment and kill him, or I bring him to the slaughterhouse.
Whether to torture him or to simply use it as a holding cell, I couldn’t be sure.
Which is why I decided to call ahead to make sure I had some of my guys here for backup.
I nod at Dom, the biggest of the lot.
“Get him in a cell. He’s not going anywhere until I verify what he’s saying.”
Ben stiffens. “Cell?”
I don’t answer.
Instead, Dom grabs him by the collar and hauls him down the corridor, disappearing into the darker part of the warehouse.
A moment later, a heavy metal door clangs shut, and I exhale slowly.
My day is far from over.
Turning my back on the rest of my men, I pull out my phone and dial Liam for what feels like the hundredth time.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he triples his prices just to try and get me to give him a break.
“You do realize you’re not my only client, right, De Luca?” Liam grumbles when he picks up the phone.
“I need confirmation on something. I need you to look into Cillian Moore. I’ve heard rumors he’s involved in human trafficking.”
Liam exhales sharply. “That’s a heavy accusation.”
“Which is why I need to know if it’s true. Can you do it or not?”
I’m not blind to the fact that if Liam gets caught looking into this, not only is he better off dead, but so am I. But I don’t have much of a choice. Not when I owe the man a favor.
“I’ll be in touch.” The phone goes dead.
And now all I can do is wait.