I stopped and half turned. “You carrying on asking, Father, he isn’t listening. He never did to those who needed him and he sure as fuck isn’t going to listen to you.”
The next stop was a run-down shack of a house on a small holding just a few miles away. The noise of the car had a woman come out through the broken screen door. She looked old, worn out, worn down by the life she had led, she held the hand of a small child although I doubted this was her own. She pulled the grubby child to her and cradled his face in her apron. I caught the sight of a chicken coop, two scrawny, uncared for chickens were scratching in the dirt. Neither of us spoke but she closed her eyes and nodded before pointing to a shed.
Quietly entering the shed, Travis and I made our way over to the old man fixing the rota blades of his tractor. He’d heard us and as he stood and turned, I punched him to the floor.
“What the...,” was all he managed to say before he recognised me and his eyes widened in fear.
I crouched down in front of him. “Payback time, for Cara. Remember her? The daughter you abused, the daughter you killed,” I snarled.
He started to snivel, his body shaking in fear as I paced, the hatred and disgust for this man pouring from me. For the first time I was struggling to gain control of myself. Every memory of that time flooded my brain, I found it hard to focus, to concentrate.
“You see, there isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t see her face, where I don’t hear her cries. Do you? Does she haunt you like she does me? Do you close your eyes at night and see her face, the split lip, the bruises? Do you see the blood running down her thighs? I do and I never forgot.”
Travis placed his hand on my shoulder, I stopped and looked at him. Without saying a word he gave a slight nod to his head and indicated with his eyes for me to move to one side. He then grabbed the man by his hair dragging him towards the still spinning rota blades, tipping him forwards so he instinctively put out his hands to stop his fall.
“You won’t be laying your filthy hands on anyone, ever again now, will you?” Travis said.
As we walked out of the shed the woman, minus the child, stood outside.
“Thank you, Robert,” she said as a tear rolled down her cheek. She turned and walked back to her house, ignoring the screams from her husband.
Did I feel good? No. There was nothing good about what Travis and I had done, but that man had abused every one of his children, his wife and God knows how many others. He had killed his daughter, a beautiful girl with blonde hair and kind, hazel eyes. He had never received punishment, the town never acknowledged what he had done. Was I judge and jury? In this case, yes, and justice had been served. He would live, but he would never be able to touch another person again.
As we headed back to the car, Travis pulled a wash cloth from the makeshift clothes line and wiped the blood splatters from his face. He gave me a smile as we climbed in the car and headed back to Washington. I rested my head back, closed my eyes and slept the whole way.
****
One evening, a few days later, Travis and I followed Joey to a bar. We watched him lord it up, play the hard man. The thing with Joey was that he had a big mouth, he wanted everyone to know who he was. He played on people knowing who his father was. He was the youngest of Joe’s kids, short and stocky but not fit, with dank, greasy hair and a spotty face. He only got girls he paid for, and now he had made two very dangerous enemies in Travis and I.
We sat outside in the car, watching, waiting for him to leave. Stupidly he thought he was now untouchable, and to our surprise when he left the bar he walked. We waited until he had passed the car we sat in. I listened to his footsteps echoing along the now deserted street towards the house. Very quietly, Travis and I got out as he passed by and when we were close I watched his steps falter, he knew someone was behind him. He gave a slight look to his side, not wanting it to be obvious that he needed to check who was following him.
I reached out with one hand grabbing the back of his collar, pulling him towards me. I spun him around, I wanted him to know who was behind him and to see us. His face openly displayed the fear and the shock he was desperately trying to hide. I felt him tremble and then he opened his mouth.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing? Get your fucking hands of me,” he said.
I dragged him back towards the open trunk of the car. Travis kicked at the back of his knees until he fell, face first, inside. We slammed the trunk shut and drove to the same warehouse Joey had selected for our demise. All the time he was shouting and bashing his fists against the trunk.
We pulled up alongside the warehouse and noticed there was a new padlock securing the door. Reaching behind the seat, Travis took a tyre iron to gain us access. Walking to the back of the car, I popped open the trunk. Joey was lying on his side, his eyes full of fear but he made no attempt to move. I reached in and grabbed the front of his shirt hauling him out. Pushing him through the door, I threw him to the floor. Travis’s foot connected with his ribs, making a sickening crack that echoed around the dark room.
Travis laughed. “You prick, you think you can set us up?” He was more scary when he was laughing, he enjoyed hurting people.
“What are you idiots talking about?” Joey stammered between coughs and wheezes, his eyes darting from the one laughing and the one chillingly silent.
“You hurt me, Rob, and dad will crush you,” he said.
I raised my eyebrows and allowed a small smirk to cross my face. I crouched down on my heels beside him.
“What do you think will happen when Joe finds out what you did? What will happen when he finds out you paid people to kill us? One of them still lives, Joey, only one, but what do you think will happen if he talks? You got three men killed that night.”
Looking at the shock registering on his face, I continued.
“No, you hadn’t thought that far ahead had you, you fucking idiot. Are you that fucking dumb? Do you think you could threaten us, set us up, try to get us killed and then just walk away? And what’s more insulting, is that you thought all we were worth was a kilo of coke.”
With that I pulled back my fist and smashed it straight into his face, blood spurted from his nose. His hands covered his face and his bladder gave way. While piss soaked the front of his pants, Travis kicked him continuously. Joey curled up in a ball, crying for his mother. I took out the knife I carried and I held it to his face, his eyes widened as I sliced across his forehead and through his eyebrow.
“Every time you touch that scar, every time you see it, you’ll be reminded of this night,” I said.
“If you even so much as breathe the same air as us, Joey, I will slit your throat. The only reason you will live tonight is because I have more respect for your father than you do,” I continued.
We left him there, sobbing into the dusty ground, knowing he would be pissing blood for the next week or so, but he would never forget what went on there, and would be constantly looking over his shoulder.
****
I needed sex. Whenever I fought, whenever my adrenalin was pumped, that was what I needed as a release. We headed to the club, it was nearly closing time but I knew the usual girls would be there. I had started to have regular sex with Christy. We would meet up two or three times a week and had been for about a year. I didn’t view her as my girlfriend and whether she realised it, she was not the only girl I fucked. She was okay looking, blonde, wore too much make up and regularly hinted at having a conventional relationship. I liked the arrangement, she shared an apartment with another girl, worked in an office and was a couple of years older than me.
Walking into the club, there she was. I strode over, grabbed her by the arm and we made our way out. Travis gestured to Carly and the four of us headed out to their apartment, stopping at the liquor store to buy a six pack on the way.
Leaving Travis and Carly, we walked into Christy’s bedroom. I still had Joey’s blood on my fist and I was pumped. She undressed herself, knowing what I wanted and
walked towards me, placing her arms around my neck and lifted her face to mine. I pulled her arms away, I didn’t want intimacy with her, with anyone, I just wanted to fuck her.
I turned her to face the bed. I pushed at the base of her neck until she was bent over, supporting herself by her arms on the side of the bed. With my foot I kicked her legs apart and ran my hand over her ass, sliding it down and between her thighs, finding her clitoris already soaking wet. As I stroked and teased, I unzipped my pants. She moaned, pushing her body back towards me. I wrapped one hand in her hair, holding her head up and I slammed into her. I fucked her hard. I saw her legs shake as her orgasm built and she came. My release was quick to follow. But I wasn’t finished.
As I kicked off my shoes, I pulled my shirt over my head. Christy gripped the side of my pants and slid them down. Before they had even fallen to the floor she had my cock in her mouth. My hands tangled in her hair and I fucked her mouth. I heard her gag, I saw tears form in her eyes and as they fell, a line of black mascara ran down her cheek.
I felt like a complete shit because I couldn’t feel anything for her. I didn’t love her, I was completely selfish in what I was doing. The least I could do was make sure she had a good time. She was on her knees, on the bed and as I climbed on, she lay down on her back beside me. My hand grazed over her nipple, twisting and squeezing and her body arched upwards. I let my hand slide down her stomach and she parted her legs. She was wet, a mixture of her and my come. I pushed two fingers in her, my thumb circled her clitoris and I watched her hands grip the bedding. As she came again, a flash of sadness washed over me. It took me by surprise and I wasn’t entirely sure why.
I could hear the laughter from the other bedroom and it struck me that, Christy and I fucked, we didn’t have fun doing it. There was never laughter from us.
She rolled onto me, riding my cock while her hands splayed on my chest. She bent down to kiss me but I turned my face slightly away, her lips only connecting with the side of my mouth. I held her hips, mine rising and falling to meet her rhythm and as her head fell back and she cried out my name, I came.
“Will you stay the night?” she asked after, a pleading in her voice. I didn’t answer.
I was sat on the end of her bed. She’d pulled the sheet around herself, covering her naked body and I heard a small sob. I wasn’t capable of a relationship with anyone, I thought she had understood that. I knew I used her for my own satisfaction, I knew she would have loved to have a proper relationship with me, but this was all I could offer. She could do a whole lot better than lust after me. I turned, ran my fingers down her cheek, my thumb rubbing away at some of the black under one eye and I looked at her.
“Chris, I don’t want a relationship, with anyone. I’m sorry if you think I’m using you and I guess I am really, but this is all you will get from me. I can’t give you any more,” I said gently. I stood and dressed.
Back then I knew I didn’t treat women fairly, I took what I wanted, giving them nothing back. I didn’t love her, I liked her enough to want to have sex with her but I found it hard to respect her, she just gave in, accepting whatever little I would offer her. I had nothing in me to give to another person, other than Travis. We were bound together for life after what we had been through. I walked away leaving her crying, calling for Travis who sounded like he was having a better time than I’d had and we left.
I didn’t have sex because I wanted that connection with a woman, it was more of a release for me, emotionless fucking. Travis fell in love with every girl, albeit there would be a new one each week.
****
The following night we got pulled by the cops. As we left the club, I noticed a car pull out behind us, its blue lights flashing.
“What do you want to do bro?” Travis asked.
“Pull over, let’s see what they want.”
Travis pulled over to the curb and we waited for the occupants of the car behind to arrive. A cop tapped at the driver window.
“Permit,” he said.
Travis rifled around the car until he found what they wanted.
“Exit the car, slowly, both of you,” we were instructed.
Two police officers, who had obviously been waiting, gestured for us to get out. We were made to face the car as they handcuffed us and took us to the station.
“Do you want to tell me what this is about?” I asked while we were sitting in the back of their car.
“We’re investigating an assault, thought you might like to help us with that,” I was told.
“And you need to handcuff me to do that?”
As much as we had never been pulled up by the cops before, I knew being handcuffed and forced into the back of their car, driven to the station, was not normal.
Standing at the counter, we were asked our names, our pockets were searched, keys and money was placed in a tray. I had thrown the knife after I had used it on Joey and I now thanked my instinct for that, perhaps I had known this might happen.
We were placed in separate cells, the smallness of them was something that I hated. There were no windows, a single bulb hung from the ceiling, its flickering light only just casting a glow over the room. Its incessant hum would drive me mad if I’d had to stay in that cell too long. There was a metal cot along one wall and a stainless steel toilet against another. I stood, I wouldn’t sit on the cot, the mattress was stained and dirty.
Eventually the door opened, a plain clothed cop asked me to follow him. We entered a small room with just a table, a couple of chairs and a tape recorder which was switched on, waiting to record every word that was spoken. I was offered coffee, a cigarette, both of which I declined, so far the cop had been pleasant.
“Robert, my name is Detective Jones and this here is Detective Mallory,” he introduced the one standing by the door.
I wondered which one was going to play the bad cop and Mallory seemed to fit the bill. He had puffed out his chest and crossed his arms, resting them on the gut that overflowed the top of his trousers.
“I have a couple of questions you might be able to help me answer,” he said.
He already knew my name, knew who I was. “First, I don’t appreciate being handcuffed and left in a cell just to help you with your enquiries. However, saying that, what would you like my help with?” I asked.
I wanted to make sure the fact that we had been handcuffed and left in a cell was recorded.
“Joey Morietti,” he said. “Wound up in the hospital, someone has done him over good, know anything about that?”
“No, I don’t,” I replied.
“So, anyone you can think of who would?”
“No.”
“Did he have enemies?”
“I guess you need to ask him that.”
“I would imagine, in your line of business, there would be plenty of people waiting for a little payback,” he said.
“I don’t know what line of business Joey is in,” I replied.
It was obvious this guy was not going to get too much out of me and Mallory walked from his position, holding up the wall.
“We know that you know him. We know you work for his father,” he said.
“I haven’t denied knowing him. I have explained that I was not aware he had been done over, as you put it, or who would have done that,” I replied.
“Are you not concerned for your friend?” he asked.
“He’s not my friend and, if he has been done over, perhaps he has offended someone. But that someone was not me. I don’t have anything to do with him. My business is with his father, as you rightly pointed out.”
“So, what exactly do you do for his father?”
“Am I here answering questions about Joey, or his father?”
“You’re here answering whatever questions I want you to,” he replied.
“You have a reputation, Robert, we know you’re capable of doing this,” Jones said.
“Then if you have any evidence to that fact, perhaps you should charge me. Before you do,
I have the right to call a lawyer.”
“Why would you need a lawyer? Right now you’re just helping with our enquiries,” he said.
“Has Joey made a complaint? Has he indicated I was the one to put him in the hospital?”
The look on their faces told me the answer was no. At least Joey had picked up one thing from his upbringing, omerta, the code of silence. I was surprised he hadn’t told the cops who had done him over though.
“Then, I have been kept here for over two hours. I’m tired and hungry so unless you want to charge me with something, it’s time for me to say goodnight,” I said as I stood.
I towered over both of them, my face showing no emotion.
“We still have a couple of questions,” Mallory said, blocking my route.
“About Joey or his father?” I asked.
“I’ll ask you again, what do you do for Guiseppi?”
“I collect his rents as I am sure you already know.”
“What do you do, Robert, when someone doesn’t pay? Beat up on little old women do you?”
Mallory was trying to rile me. I smiled, a cold chilling smile.
“Do I look like I need to beat up on little old women?” I asked.
They had no answer to that and with Mallory stepping to one side, I made for the door.
“You can let Mr. Morietti know that we will be doing everything we can to catch the people who put his son in hospital,” he said, a veiled threat.
“I’m sure, as a tax payer, he’ll be pleased to hear that. Now, I expect Travis will be ready to leave as well.”
While I waited for Travis, I collected my money and keys and headed outside.
“Hey bro, you okay?” I heard as he came out of the station.
“Sure, let’s get a cab back to the car,” I replied.
We didn’t talk about it until we were back to where we had left the car and the first thing we did was to make sure the tail lights were not all of a sudden broken, another reason we could be pulled over.
“What did they ask you?” I said
“About Joey, wanted to know who had done him over. I told them we were at the club, guess they checked but other than that not much else.”
Robert (Fallen Angel Series Book 1) Page 10
