They snap open at once, and he winces from the earlier strike across his face. The area is swollen and a nasty shade of purple. He tries to move his head back, away from me, but I don’t take it personally as I’m sure it has something to do with the cold tip running down his cheek. From temple to jaw, I leave a shallow cut that brims red, but only a few small drops fall.
There’s fear in his eyes. Petrified with a good mixture of horror that seeps from the cunt’s every pore. Pathetic.
“Nice of you to join us,” I say as I embed the very tip into his skin, just an inch. “Now, are you ready to play?”
“Who are you?” He’s asking me, yet his eyes are on Casper; I look over at the latter and find him sitting atop a few boxes. His posture seems relaxed, but I know better. Can read him like no one else, and I’m not the least bit surprised to find Casper’s gun on his thigh and his finger on the trigger.
“Oi.”
“Callum.”
“We made a deal to play nice.” As I say this, I push in another inch of my blade. “We need him to talk.”
“Agreed.” Casper shoots him once, on his thigh this time. “Please ignore me.”
“Thank you.” With my attention back on Felix, I pull the knife out and wipe the bloody metal across his bare chest before dropping it. I’ll be going a different route today. “I’m ready for that story now. Why did you do it?”
“You’re Callum Jameson?”
“I am.”
“And he’s Casper Jameson.” Not a question, but I nod in confirmation. “Dios mio ayudame. Que hice.”
“You helped an innocent woman die. You have his mum’s blood on your hands.” Leaning closer so we’re at eye level, I pat his bloody cheek. “God will not save you, De La Vega. He’s gifted you to us; we are your penance.”
Tears flow down his cheeks, body shaking, but I stand back and let him have his moment.
I take a seat next to Casper and accept the cold bottle of water Archie offers me. “Thanks, mate.” He doesn’t reply, just gives a subtle nod, and retakes his position. “Any news on the wanker?”
“Ezra’s working on it. Last known location was in South America, but I know he’s not there now. No man running would be stupid enough to stay in one place for long.”
“Caribbean or—”
“We already know he lives there, but don’t know which island yet. My guess is one not too far from the US.”
Nodding, I empty half the bottle in two deep pulls. “That gives us a few choices, starting with those closest to Florida.”
“It does.”
He gives me a pensive look, and I raise a brow. “Something you want to say?”
“You okay, Callum?” His question catches me off guard and I frown, not getting it. “You’ve been a bit quiet lately. Since Chicago.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you? Is there something I need to know?”
“I’m fine.” I make a move to stand, but Casper puts a hand on my forearm, and I pause. Look down at him. “Bro, I promise I’m okay. Trust me…nothing I can’t handle.”
“Mum would be proud of you,” he says instead of prying further, and a knot forms in my throat. For as much shit as we give each other, we know the other, and his mother was like my own. She was there when my mum decided that vacationing—or for my father, work—was more important than raising me. And while I don’t hold anything against them, my loyalty lies with Casper’s parents.
His mum’s passing hit me hard. Still hurts.
And just like her son, I’ve made a private vow to avenge her death.
The doorbell rings suddenly, making me pause inside my aunt’s kitchen, the sound loud—seems to reverberate throughout every square inch of their massive estate. My aunt is out in the shops picking up an order while my uncle’s footsteps walk toward the front door.
No one from the house’s security team rang. No one’s expected to drop by, either.
“Wait two minutes before opening,” I call out to my uncle, knowing he heard by the two taps on the wall closest to him. It’s not too loud, not enough to be heard by whoever’s waiting by the front door, but it does give me a moment. Opening the drawer beside the fridge, I grab the Glock inside and head toward the French doors.
This exit leads to the garden, and past that is a swimming pool and a small cottage my aunt claims as her woman cave. I’m quick to rush around the side of the home, keeping alert for any movement, but there’s none when I reach the front.
What I find is one of our guards, his face pained and eyes red-rimmed. A sinking feeling settles over me, my heart clenching, but I manage to walk over and use the key code to unlock the door.
Then it’s the four of us, my father, who’d been inside his brother’s office, joining us. He’s the reason my aunt went out alone today, needing to discuss some half-arsed crap or other that will never go anywhere. His brother’s no longer in charge, and Casper feels like I do; we don’t live in the past—this family is run by young blood and new ways.
Dad’s eyes meet mine then, and his expression mirrors; something isn’t right. It’s a heavy cloaking aura that suffocates, and I shift to look at the man. “Speak.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Jameson. So sorry.” He’s not speaking to me or Dad. His eyes are on my uncle, and when it clicks, the world beneath his feet disappears. I’ve never seen a strong man crumble like this before.
It’s heartbreaking.
This has nothing to do with Casper. The wanker is off with Aurora, and had something happened, the call would’ve come via Jeffrey or Ezra. That leaves one other person. Motherfuck. No. At once, my chest squeezes painfully tight, and my eyes close. This can’t be happening.
Words fail me. I can’t voice the questions running through my head.
My uncle’s legs give out and a fist comes up to his mouth, body shaking as a sob catches in his throat. “Where’s my wife?” How he manages to ask this, I have no clue, but he does. Voice cracking, he stumbles toward the guard and grips the man’s long-sleeved vest. One tug, and he’s face to face with Jameson senior, with his glare—eyes red while his body language is pleading. “Where is she? What happened?”
“I’m so sorry, sir. Mrs. Jameson’s vehicle was attacked, and she’s been taken to the A&E with multiple gunshot wounds.”
“Get the car,” my father shouts, moving to help his brother close the door and walk down the few steps onto the circular drive. I’m on autopilot. I can’t get past the feelings coursing through my veins. This is something I’ve never experienced before: fear. A choking, bloody helplessness.
Not for me, but for her. Her husband. Her son.
And I vow to do what I must to keep my family standing no matter what the future brings.
I’m pulled from the memory by a choking cough. Bloody spittle flies out of Felix’s mouth, landing on the cold concrete below his feet.
He looks tired, his wounds a nasty red.
“Something you want to say?” I ask, looking toward Archie and giving him the signal to drop the lever. He does so. De La Vega’s body drops to the ground and his ankle turns at an awkward angle. It’s dislocated, and the accompanying scream is almost as satisfying as Aliana’s taste. Almost. “Speak.”
“We can come to an agreement.” Gritting his teeth, he twists in pain while finding a position to sit in. Sweat beads at his brow, and his chest heaves. “Please. I can help you.”
“How can you help us?”
“I can tell you what I know.”
“And what is that?”
“I’m the one who—”
“How well do you know Mauricio Hernandez?”
“In passing.” Felix swallows hard, his hands fisting on his lap. “I know someone he does, and vice versa.”
“Is that true, Casper?” I ask, feigning stupidity. Even before picking up this sack of shit, we knew of his involvement and how well he knows the hitman.
“Negative. Not what he said earlier.”
“So I’m deal
ing with a liar, then?”
“Aye.”
“All right.” Turning my face toward my cousin, I point toward the black bag near him. “Toss that my way…” he does, and I catch it with one hand “…And Archie, we’ll be needing the bench now. Go ahead and set it up near the back.”
19
“What are you going to do to me?” Felix asks, his body dragging backwards, and I make no move to follow him. He will come. He will accept his judgment. “Please, let’s be reasonable. We can work something out.”
“Come here.”
“Callum—”
“If any of us have to grab you, it will be worse.” Taking the item out of the black bag, I test the weight in my hand and check the leather used. It’s not like mine back home. No. This one doesn’t have the added touch of a madman, but it’ll inflict plenty of pain.
One snap of my wrist and it unfurls, the whip snapping against the dirty concrete. The sound is loud, meant to spike his fear, and Felix throws up. Hunching over, he empties his stomach and I scrunch up my nose. Disgusting.
“Would you like me to fetch him, Mr. Jameson?” Archie asks, coming back inside. He wipes his brow and eyes the man with a mixture of pity for the lad and ire. Every person in our organization, from the tenured to the newest guard, has felt the death of Aunt Penelope. “Ezra called to make sure we are on schedule, and he’s waiting for the signal.”
“He worries a lot.” Casper’s traded the gun in his lap for one of his Karambits. “Send him a message with new airport ETA. An extra two hours today should be enough.”
“Yes, sir.”
Turning back to the man on his arse, I see he’s still trying to crab crawl back and failing. His dodged-up knee, thigh, and hand are an impediment he can’t escape. “Last chance, De La Vega.” A warning he doesn’t heed, and I flick my eyes to an eager Casper. “You get two shots.”
“How magnanimous of you.”
“I try, you arse.”
The wanker doesn’t answer; he’s too busy looking at the man. For a few minutes neither moves, my cousin waiting, and when Felix whimpers, the Karambit breaks through the air and slices a clean cut across his left shoulder before landing on the ground.
Because that’s the beauty of that knife: it’s bloody sharp. The skin parts, the flesh having given way, and what’s left is a deep gash that bleeds at a high rate.
“That’s one.” I’m admiring his work, ignoring the way Felix screams and writhes before picking up the knife. It’s in his grip, but the twat doesn’t know how to place his fingers, much less how to angle the blade for a more accurate slice.
“All I’m going to take.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
Blood loss is a bitch and Felix is beginning to show a bit of fatigue, the Karambit slipping through his loose grip. He’s bled quite a bit from each wound, and when he attempts to stand with his uninjured hand extending the knife out, it doesn’t last. Instead, he stumbles, and Archie comes back in time to grab him.
Felix thrashes, tries to fight back, but is quickly outmaneuvered and taken to a deviant little section Casper’s acquaintance keeps here. Every apparatus back here is for discipline, to keep the recipient in place, and I chose the bench to start.
His body’s bare except for the pair of boxers we’ve left on him. His feet are stepping on an array of broken glass that’s kept inside of a built-in wooden box for added punishment.
He shuffles, tries to push the shards aside to save the bottom of his feet, but the first strike of my whip remedies that. It slices through the air, connecting with his back while leaving a sharp welt behind that quickly blisters.
“Fuck!” he screams, fighting his bonds, back arching yet the limited space keeps him in place. The blubbering starts at once, and it’s disappointing. “Don’t. I’ll do…no!”
The second lash strikes from his right shoulder to the middle of his spine, this one breaking the skin, and the surrounding flesh turns red. “Why did you do it?”
“No more.”
“Why did you do it?” I ask again, gifting him the third and fourth before delivering the fifth over the back of his thigh. The sounds coming from the man’s throat are horror-filled and full of pain, loud and a little soothing to me. “If I have to ask again, I’m going to play the eye removal game. Count each strike across your face until I hit the orb at just the right angle to make you lose it. Your choice.”
“I’ll talk,” leaves him on a pathetic whimper.
“Then do so.” This time, the whip’s tip hits his injured shoulder. “Convince me you’re worth one more day.”
“Mauricio is in the Caribbean but moves around a lot. He has homes in Jamaica, Puerto Rico, Dominican Republic, and Cuba. There’s also Guatemala, Honduras, and Belize. That’s just to name a few.” He swallows hard, his teeth chattering as the pain peaks. “H-he’s been a hitman since his early twenties and is smart, too smart to get caught easily.”
“When did you meet, and where?”
“I need water.” Each word is spoken between clenching teeth, but the way his body shakes is an indicator that he’s breaking. He’ll either pass out or lose control of his bodily functions. “My throat.”
And to keep him alert, I flick my wrist and the leather snaps across his right flank. “Answer the question, lad. Don’t test my patience.”
His head nods, legs shaking. “We met in Miami while I was on vacation. He was close to a trafficker there.”
“Who?”
“The Villegas, but they’re all dead. Killed by the reigning family now: the De Leon’s.”
“Okay.” Tilting my head toward Archie, I signal to the bottle at his feet. It’s hot, has been sitting in the sun all day prior to this, but it’s water. “Hold it up to his lips.” Archie does so, and when that first sip lands on his tongue, Felix gags. He tries to reject it, but I nod, and Archie lets the entire one-liter tip and pour onto his mouth or face. “Thank you.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Felix, thank you for the information so far.”
“I’ll do anything.”
“I’m sure you would, but finish answering my earlier question. Why?”
From the corner of my eye, I catch Casper move closer. In his hand, he has his favorite toy once more. He’s worse than I am with my whip. “Go ahead.”
Quietly, he gets behind Felix and waits. The man is unaware, or maybe he isn’t. Doesn’t matter as a few tense seconds later, he begins to speak. “They offered me a lot of money to do so. More than Mauricio and I have ever been offered for one job, and we took it without pause.”
“How much was your cut?” I ask, placing the whip down just long enough to take my vest off and crack my neck.
“Half a million.”
“And that was worth a woman’s life?”
“It was never supposed to be his mama. His father or uncle, but not his mother.”
“Then why protect Mauricio Hernandez?” Casper’s voice tone is cold. His muscles flex, coiling as if he were an animal ready to strike. “Answer me.”
“I didn’t—”
“Liar,” my cousin snaps, gripping the back of Felix’s head, hair in a tight grip while he digs the tip of his Karambit down his back in a long and straight line. Then, he creates a half circle on the top of the line, the corners touching and turning his mark into a large letter ‘P’—his mother’s initial. “You hid him. You bought his plane ticket out and brought in others to help him escape our wrath.”
“N-no. I-I swear…I-I didn’t.”
My cousin lets him go and steps back. “Enjoy yourself.”
“Thanks, brother.” A tsking sound escapes me while Felix blubbers and begs. His cries and pleas fall on deaf ears. “Liars never make it into the kingdom of heaven.”
I show no more mercy.
We knew his moves, motives, and connections.
We just wanted him to voice it out loud. To be a man and admit it.
This time as the whip
’s leather snaps against his back, I don’t pause or let him breathe. Each strike is brutal, cutting and breaking flesh as his life’s essence splatters after each precise lash. Some lands on my skin, some on the ground and the equipment within. There’s no counting or spoken words inside the room as his screams of pure agony go from loud to unintelligible blubbers—from begging to silence as he loses consciousness and Felix’s body goes limp.
He’s a mess. Broken. Bloodied.
The last two from my whip land at the back of his head, and when it bounces, just a slight rebound that leaves behind a thick welt on the shaved bottom half of his skull, I step back.
It’s a disgusting scene to most. The torn flesh and rivulets of red that flow down and to the ground, creating a puddle at his feet.
To me, though, it’s poetic. He deserves so much more, but I know this isn’t enough for my cousin, and I have a gift of my own.
I turn my gaze to Archie. “Get him cleaned up and as stable as possible before we leave.”
“Leave? Where are you—”
“Alexander’s on his way to finish this, cousin.” His smile widens and nods in approval. Alexander is Aurora’s bodyguard for a reason, and it’s his brutality that’s kept him under our employ for so long. He has no boundaries nor empathy, and he’ll give De La Vega an ending he deserves. “And don’t worry about Gem. I moved someone there already, and Archie will be in charge until Alexander returns.”
“Thank you.”
“None needed.” Walking to him, I clasp his shoulder and squeeze. “Just don’t forget to videotape it. We’ve got plans for it.”
“We do?”
“We do.”
Casper never asked me why I took off or where I was off to, but I do send a text when I land.
Twenty-four hours. ~Callum J.
His response is just as fast, and nothing more than okay before I pocket my mobile. I’m turning my locator off, but the device will stay on until I’m back in the air and across international waters just in case something goes wrong.
Risqué: Mafia Romance (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 5) Page 15
