Enzo
“Tell me how you found them again?” I asked Donovan as he turned into the warehouse, glided into the building, and cut the engine. It had been almost three days of searching, but we finally got the men we’d been looking for.
“Like I said, I put out some feelers in the neighborhood. Some friends I’d made while I was a busboy called and said they heard two guys bragging about a break-in, but they didn’t finish, so they didn’t know if they’d get paid the full amount or something like that.
Angelo and I popped in while they were still there.
We asked them some questions, and we knew it was them.
” Donovan recalled this story for the second time.
Angelo and Donovan were almost disturbingly efficient. One night of hunting and they’d found the two missing men that no one else had managed to locate in two days.
We had captured one, but there were two others that had escaped.
I’d let one get away from me, my attention on getting to Serena and Harper. He had run into Angelo, knocking him off the man he had pinned down. He escaped, too. It wasn’t ideal, but we had the manpower to search every nook and cranny in this city to find them.
And we did.
“Good.” I got out of the car, and Donovan followed. Angelo stood at a door on the opposite side of the room, waiting.
Angelo opened the door when I was close. The next room was less a room and more a wall separating one side of the building from the other. It had once been a food warehouse, leaving nearly half the space as a massive freezer I’d put to good use.
The three men were blindfolded and tied to their metal chairs in the middle of the space. Frost coated their clothing from their time in the freezer. A few other men who wanted to witness the show stood in the back.
I jerked my chin, and one of the men came over and undid the blindfolds. Grabbing one of the many empty chairs, I placed it in front of the stronzos and sat.
“Do you know why you’re here?” I asked. Silence answered me.
That was fine. Eventually, they would tell me everything they knew.
“Two days ago, you broke into the apartment of someone under the protection of Cosa Nostra. Someone under my protection.” I let the words hang in the air, watching as they slowly penetrated their thick skulls.
Satisfaction rolled through me as I witnessed each of them grasping the pile of merda they’d gotten themselves into.
“Why?” I asked.
Again, no one answered. Sighing, I began to roll up my sleeves, though experience told me it wouldn’t stop the blood from splattering on me.
One man shifted in his chair; his fear permeated the air. Good.
In one swift motion, I backhanded him, using all my pent-up anger to fuel the hit. And then again from the other side.
The sting from the blow ran from my hand up my arm. I welcomed it.
I hit him again, finally having a place to put my anger.
For every tear that Serena shed, I’d make them feel the pain tenfold and smile while I did.
There were questions that demanded answers, answers that I would get, and then I would unleash on them everything they deserved.
“This can be as easy or as hard as you make it,” I said. “If you tell me what you know, there’s a chance I might feel,” I paused, trying to find the right word, “benevolent. The longer you make me wait, the more it will hurt.”
The man in the center hocked and spit at me.
I turned to my men. “It seems we have a tough guy on our hands.”
They chuckled.
“Where are my shears?” I asked. They appeared in my hand a moment later. “Hold his hand flat.” Donovan ran up and splayed the tough guy’s hand out.
The man wiggled his fingers, trying to get out of Donovan’s hold. Donovan held tighter, pulling his arm straight. He started to kick, but his legs were tied to the chair.
Then he started to beg, and it was like music to my ears.
“Please. Stop. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how serious this was for you.” He rambled, but it would get him nowhere. I almost laughed at how quickly he went from bravado to a pathetic, begging man.
I bent to eye level. “Keep begging,” I ordered, smiling as he continued. “You should’ve done your research. The only person you have to blame is yourself.”
I held the shears, eyeing the sharp blades. Slipping the guy’s pointer finger between the two blades, I squeezed the handles, neatly slicing off his finger down to the top knuckle.
Blood spurted. I shifted to the side, the spray missing me.
“One down.” I held up the bloody flesh while the man howled. Hurting someone didn’t usually bring me pleasure, but for the first time, I found I enjoyed inflicting pain.
“Why did you break into that apartment?” I asked again.
I moved to the next man, lining up the shears.
“Wait,” he cried. How pathetic that he broke under the fear of pain. “I’ll tell you what I know.”
I stepped back and gestured at him to continue.
“We work for Millenium Securities. We got the job about a week ago. Took our time to case the place out and then made our move,” he explained.
“Do you think that was enough information to get you out of here alive?” I asked as I walked back, ready to move on with the torture.
“There’s more,” he wheezed. “We had specific instructions. Tear the place apart, hurt the lady, scare her daughter, and leave.”
“Hurt her how?” I ground out. I knew they had intentions to hurt her. What we found in one of their bags told me as much. The confirmation of what I had suspected ignited a new fire in me.
I was familiar with anger, but this was different. It was deeper, more vengeful than I’d ever experienced. It writhed under my skin, like a living thing that needed violence to be released.
I cracked my neck, trying to release the tension that had built up under the anger. It didn’t work. I needed him to tell me, bit by bit, what he planned to do. Everything he planned to do to them, he’d experience himself before he died.
“Rough her up and tie her down. It was left for us to decide how far we’d go. But the kid was off limits. We were just going to tie her up and leave her in the other room,” he rasped the words out as fast as he could.
“How did you plan to rough her up?” I asked.
“Bruise her up,” he said. “I don’t know. I’m not into hurting women and kids. I thought breaking and entering was enough.”
I grabbed the guy by the back of his head and yanked him up to look at me. Beady little black eyes stared at me.
“Who sent you?” I asked, bringing up the shears, and then dragging the sharp end down his cheek. Blood welled at the cut.
“It was anonymous,” he said. He was breathing heavily, his eyes wide, like he had finally realized the pile of shit he was in. “Headquarters knows more. They only tell us what we need to know to get the job done. I swear.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that,” I said. He started crying, which made me smile but didn’t stop me.
Donovan held his hand out while I cut the tip of his middle finger off.
I shifted my attention to the two other men.
“Let’s hope you know more than your friend.”
“I don’t know anything,” the guy on the right said, leaning back in his chair and wheezing. “I’m new. This was my first assignment. I was given orders and followed them through. There are,” he swallowed, “a lot of ways to hurt someone that don’t involve touching them.”
“You’re right,” I said. “But you didn’t do your research, did you? If you had, you’d know better than to touch my family.”
“Look, I didn’t know about the ‘hurt her’ part,” the other one called out.
I should have gotten their names, but it wasn’t like they’d live to see another day.
“I don’t do that shit. I don’t agree to it.
John knows that. I’m not a hitman that takes money and shoots where you point.
We were supposed to trash the place, quietly to scare her, and that was it.
The goal was to not interact with her at all. ”
I narrowed my eyes. Maybe they’d live. It would be a good warning to others about what happened if anyone thought of coming after what was mine.
“John's a dick. He's saying that shit to rile you up because you left him in the freezer. But he is a sadistic fucker. John’s a dick. I wouldn’t be surprised if he decided the other stuff for shits and giggles.” This guy was smart.
I’d give him that. It wouldn’t save his life, but at least there was a chance he was honest. “If you want verify my story call Headquarters and get the details.”
I nodded. "They’ll just tell me what I want to know?”
“If you tell them you have me, Kyle Lowe, and then say festung, they will.” He stared at the missing tip of his finger, face red and sweating.
I nodded, thinking it through. If one guy on the team went rogue, did I blame the team or the one who made up their own orders?
“Donovan and Angelo, make sure they’re taken care of.” I stood, buttoning my suit, and headed out the door. The echo of cries from the beating my men were doling out followed me.
Once I was in the car, behind the wheel, I pulled out my phone and dialed.
Two rings and a man’s voice, I was all too familiar, with answered.
“Why are you calling my wife?” Marcello asked.
All I could do was laugh.
“She doesn’t like it when you answer her phone,” I said, knowing he feared his wife, Adrienne, as much as the rest of us.
I heard her voice in the background, Marcello trying to get a word in, and then, “What can I help you with?”
“Serena was attacked at her home three days ago. They tore through her apartment. I got there before Serena or Harper were contacted—she was in the bathroom hiding—and they’re at my place now.
They’re safe.” I stopped, giving her a chance to interject, but she kept silent, so I continued.
“We got the three guys involved, who said Millenium Securities hired them. I need to know everything about the company, the men, what they were supposed to do, and who hired them.”