by J Bree
I take out two of them and Harbin deals with the third.
Roxas starts muttering under his breath, pissed he’s losing that dumbass game of his, and we wait for anymore takers, anymore henchmen who might come running to find out why the hell the alarm is going off.
Surprise, fuckers.
There isn’t anyone else for an entire minute so I make the call and we move in, snapping the masks over our faces. We’re not worried about being seen, fuck no, I’m worried about some noxious chemicals. They’re cooking meth here, a whole fucking lab of the shit, and most of the ingredients are poisonous in their raw form.
I’ve learned that in my time with D’Ardo.
The entire warehouse is full of a hazy smoke and through the masks it’s impossible to see right. I’ve studied the floor plan enough to know where I’m heading even without being able to see but that doesn’t fucking help me if one of the cartel jumps the fuck out at me.
We need to get to the mezzanine floor, where Mecedo stands overhead and watches his minions produce. Crime lord dickheads love that shit, D’Ardo does it in his party shed at the docks. I guess a taste for watching comes with the ego they have, the god complex because they have some power.
They don’t realize the higher you climb on that fucked up throne the bigger the target you really are. I’ve always known true power is being about to look at that goddamn throne and have the power to kill anyone on it but never take it for yourself.
I take out two more and I hear a fight break out behind me but I have to trust that Harbin can fucking see well enough to kill the fuckers.
We don’t have time to waste. Mecedo and his men will be here soon.
We should’ve run an alarm test before we came out here but I didn’t want them getting suspicious there was someone in their system and losing my edge. I don’t know if the smoke is from them or if they’re destroying evidence in case the authorities show up.
Clearly, they know fucking nothing about the Bay.
I make it to the stairs and by the fourth step I’m above the smoke and can see what the fuck is actually happening down there. Roxas is grappling with some guy in a full hazmat suit while Harbin is still trying to find the staircase. The smoke is getting thicker but I can’t see where the fuck it’s even coming from.
I do see two men coming up on Harbin from behind and I throw a cleaver at one of them. I’m too far away to kill him but it gives Harbin the chance to turn around and finish the job.
What a fucking mess.
I move the rest of the way up the stairs and when I get to the top I find a guy crouched behind a fucking desk like a pussy.
"Don't kill me! I'm not here willingly!"
Too late.
His body drops to the ground, his throat slashed open and blood pouring out everywhere, and there's nothing left inside me to feel guilty about it even if he was innocent. I doubt it and I'm not getting stabbed in the back by some asshole pretending he's a victim in this shit. If they're here, they're dead... one way or another.
I walk along the top level and start picking off the rest of the cartel men, all of them crouched behind shit like that'll save them. I use my throwing knives, I’m more accurate at a distance with those and I make note of where the fuck they are so I can finish the job once I’m back down there. When I get to the end I find the tank that the smoke is pouring out of on the other side of the warehouse. It's below me but to get down there I'd have to walk back down the stairs and make my way across the smoke-filled warehouse without tripping over something or being taken out by some cartel trash hiding out. Fuck knows what it's actually got inside it but there's no way of plugging it from here.
Except.
I jog back over to the dead guy and grab his feet, dragging him along the top floor until I get above the tank again. Roxas makes it up the stairs, sweating and wiping his forehead around the gas mask. There's blood on his hands that smears everywhere but who gives a fuck about a little blood?
I tip the body over the edge and the dead guy lands over the hole in the tank, plugging it enough that there's only wisps of the smoke making it out around him.
I hope the thing doesn't blow, we should get the fuck out of here before it has the chance, and as I turn to say as much to Roxas the door opens again and gunfire starts up again.
Harbin's down there by himself.
Roxas takes off at a sprint and I grab the last of my knives, already aiming as I run up behind him.
I don't want Mecedo dead though.
I need him and his bodyguards alive and trussed up like fucking turkeys in my workroom. I need to know exactly how far I can take this with Odie and just how much involvement she needs in this list of mine to feel safe and whole again.
I can't let Harbin die for that shit though.
I get to the top of the stairs and a knife comes flying at me as well. If my life has taught me nothing else, it's that I'm not afraid of catching some steel between my eyes. I push the golden goddess waiting for me back home out of my mind and start throwing the knives back, mostly aiming for their legs.
Roxas lets out a shout and I stop shooting long enough to see him charge at them, Harbin coming in hot behind him and dragging two of the men to the ground.
I take the stairs three at a time to get down to them but by the time I get down there Roxas is beating one of them to a pulp and Harbin is tying two of the others up.
"I need him alive, man." I remind him but the biker just goes to fucking town on him, smashing his teeth in and crushing his ribs with his knees.
"I fucking hate cartel assholes." He pants when he finally lets the guy go, standing and stomping on his dick just to watch the guy squeal through the blood he’s coughing up and choking on.
I take stock of what's happening, of who's here bleeding at our feet and who's already fucking dead. There's an extra guy still alive, not one of the guys who took Odie so I slit his throat and watch as his blood sprays out and soaks his boss. Mecedo doesn't flinch, his eyes defiant as he glares up at me. I crouch down to wipe the blade off on his suit, smirking at him just to fuck with him a little.
"The Jackal sent you? I told him I didn't send the bikers after his drugs." he says, his lip curling.
I grab him by the throat and squeeze, letting out just enough of my anger to get through this moment without fucking gutting him right here.
The death back home will be sweeter.
"No one sent me. I'm here for something personal, something you can't talk your way out of. Fuck, I wouldn't give up your death for fucking anything."
I let him go and step away, finally noticing that Harbin is bleeding. His arm is missing a fucking chunk and blood is pouring out like a bitch all over the fucking place. I throw a tourniquet from my kit to him and he snaps it into place, pulling the cord to tighten it with his teeth.
"Cartel scum. Nothing fucking worse," he spits out, kicking Mecedo in the gut.
He's fucking savage when he gets injured, even fucking lightly. I've only seen it once before and I saw him thumb the shooter’s eyes out and crush them under his fucking boot. It's one of the reasons I get along so well with him.
We're both a little unhinged when it comes to death.
“Do you want them dead now? Fuck, I’m in the mood for squealing drug runners. They always break so fucking good.”
Mecedo stares up at Roxas like he’s some dirty biker and being in the cartel is a much more noble line of work.
Piece of filth.
“Nah, I need them alive for now. I have a very specific plan for their deaths.”
Roxas nods and holds out his hand. This is the part that’s going to hurt way more than an open wound ever could.
I hand him the keys to my Mustang.
“If you so much as fucking dent it I’ll carve out your fucking spleen and mail it to your mother.”
He tips back his head and roars with laughter, all joy and riding the high of winning out over dozens of men. That shit never gets old. Fucking neve
r.
Then we head back to my warehouse.
Back to my workroom where the fun really begins.
When I arrive home I get the guys to help me move the cartel to my workroom before they leave, Roxas being a total dick about my fucking car.
Stupid bikers.
I find my girl covered in paint and smiling at her work, happy and content in the home I’ve built for her. Fuck, I didn’t even know I was making this place for her but fuck if it isn’t true.
“Bonjour, mon Monstre. How was your night?" she says in French, slow enough that I can catch onto what she’s saying. I’m getting better at it but I’m most fucking definitely not fluent yet but fuck. The words coming out of her sound like fucking foreplay, like she’s desperate for my cock to rearrange her organs for a few hours but she’s busy with her oils and canvas.
The woman was fucking made for me.
Put on this Earth just for me to find and protect, teach and fuck and own. She’s mine for all of time the same way I’m now hers too.
I have to remember the men tied to chairs in my workroom, this is not the fucking time for my dick to take over the fucking conversation, no matter how badly I want her.
"I had a busy night, baby girl. I have something to show you downstairs."
Chapter Eighteen
Odie
I'm painting something dark and surreal when mon Monstre arrives home for the night. My eyes are sore and my head is a little hazy, the long hours of working in a daze taking their toll. I set down my brushes and paints with a smile, lifting the little stray tendrils of my hair that have escaped the ponytail away from my face.
“Bonjour, mon Monstre. How was your night?" I say in French. Now that he’s trying to learn I’m conscious of speaking it to help him.
He shucks off his jacket and I see the blood and gore still streaking his arms but he doesn't move towards the bathroom, something he always does straight away. It doesn't matter that I know all about his work and the life he leads when he goes out every night, he never comes to me dirty.
"I had a busy night, baby girl. I have something to show you downstairs."
I frown a little but I nod. Of course, whatever he needs me to do, I'll do it. His gruff demeanor still worries me though.
I step forward but he holds out a hand to stop me. "Wash up, baby, and throw on one of my sweaters. I'm taking you down to my workroom. I've found Mecedo and some of his men. I need you to see them, make sure I've got the right psychopath, and then I'll deal with them."
My stomach bottoms out.
Mecedo. His men. Here, at my safe place, the place that put me back together, the home I know is mine forever.
Illi grimaces. "I know, baby, I don't want them here either but I'm not taking you out there. I need you safe here and I need them all having the worst fucking death I can give them. That happens here, in the basement where all of my tools are. They'll be dead before I come to bed, I promise you, I’m not going to have them alive downstairs in our house for long.”
I nod slowly, I trust him with far more than my life, and I rush to the bathroom to wash the paint away from my hands. I pick out a sweater I don't love, one I'll be okay with throwing out the second I come back upstairs in case it's... well, in case I lose my mind the second I get down there and kill Mecedo myself. I grab my knife just in case.
I know mon Monstre would never try to stop me from getting my own vengeance. I remember the pride in his face when he found Lord Devareux dead on the carpet back when he rescued me.
When I step out of the bathroom, I find Illi still standing in front of the door. He sees the knife and nods at me. "Good choice, baby girl. Fuck, I want to hold you right now but I'm not going to get this shit on you and I want to put these assholes in the ground already. I don't want them here either."
I smile at him, soft and warm because this intensity and anger is for me. He's always brought his work home and never cared about it before. With the extra security he's got set up, I know that I'm perfectly safe here but he's not worried about me physically. It's my mind and my heart he's trying to protect.
I’ve come a long way so there’s much further to fall now.
"Lead the way, mon Monstre. I will always follow you."
He smiles, a genuine one that softens his fierce features. "Baby girl, you follow no one. Let me wash my hands so I can at least hold your hand down there. Fuck, I want you in my arms but that will have to do."
So we take the stairs together, his hand warm in mine and the whole way down he works on his French, low murmured words shared between us like a guarded secret. It's only when we get to the bottom of the second set of stairs that the warmth and humor dries up from him, leaving behind the man they call the Butcher.
He’s harder, none of the man I know left in his face, but I still love this version of him. How can I not, when he protects me so fiercely?
We step into the large, sparse room, the only room in the warehouse I’ve never before stepped foot into. His workroom is cold and bare, the fans whirring softly as the cooling unit works overtime to keep this place icy cold. The walls are lined with tools and knives, bone saws and power tools. It looks like the playroom of a serial killer and, well, I guess it is.
It doesn't change a thing in my mind.
I step forward carefully and Illi murmurs to me, "Watch your step, the floors have just been washed down."
I glance down to see the little drain in the center of the floor. Handy.
It takes all of the strength in me to look up and into the faces of the men mon Monstre has tied to chairs. His palm is warm on my back even through the layers I'm wearing and I draw all the strength I need from him.
He's here, he loves me, he'd die to keep me safe.
All four of the men who were there the day my father sold me for his debts are here. The woman who showered me and took the photos isn't but I'm not worried.
I know she will meet her fate and vengeance will be served mon Monstre.
Every one of the men look at me but their eyes give nothing away. I'm sure this isn't the worst situation they've been in, the drug business isn't for the faint of heart, but I know with every fiber of my being that this is the last few moments of their lives. That all of the evil they have brought into the world, all of the death and pain, it all was leading up to this moment.
"Do you want to kill them, baby girl, or am I doing it for you? You can head upstairs if you want to, go paint or cook something."
I shake my head. "I need to be here. I need to see it with my own eyes."
Mecedo shakes his head and leans forward, the ropes straining, so he can spit on the ground at our feet. "¡Váyanse a chingar mucho a su chingada puta madre no son nadien! "
It means nothing to me, nothing at all, but Illi's face sets into a cold fury. "You'll be cleaning that up with your tongue before I kill you, cunt. If you want a quick death you'll beg Odie for forgiveness."
"¿Pedirle perdón a una babosa que ni su familia la quiso? ¡No me hagas reír!"
Illi grips my elbow and gently tugs me over to the corner where I'll have the perfect view but I should be able to stay clear of the gore once he gets to work.
"All of this over some puta pussy. Pathetic. You'll find your end soon... men who lose their head always do."
Illi chuckles under his breath, picking up a blowtorch and lighting it with practiced ease. The sound of the gaslit flame is loud in the silence of the room and all four of the captive men instantly turn to stone.
I can see the sweat on Mecedo’s brow.
A smile curves across my lips. Good. I want him terrified. I want him shaking in his boots over the death that mon Monstre, the Butcher of the Bay, is about to give him.
He deserves every second of it.
Illi slowly walks towards Mecedo, the blowtorch still throwing out that fire, and not for a second does it fail. "I've been doing this job a long fucking time. I've killed a lot of men, most of them jobs, but some were personal. I've learned all
about the human body, how to break it, how to make it hurt so fucking bad that all of the truth in the world falls out."
He gets right up to Mecedo and holds the torch right up to his face, not quite burning him yet but with the flick of his wrist the pain will begin. "Did you know it takes 600 degrees to melt human fat? The skin slides away easy enough before then but to take out that gut of yours I'd need a lot of heat. Well, this blowtorch can heat up to 2,900 degrees. I ordered in especially for you, Mecedo. I've been waiting for this day for too long."
My stomach is a whirling mess but my mind is clear. I think the smell will be the thing to force me out of the room, something like that being too much for me but the thought of Illi torturing these men... no, I can sleep well with that thought tonight. I can sleep so peacefully knowing they're no longer walking this earth and hurting young girls like me.
"Baby girl, now is the time to leave. I'll bring you their hearts once it's done."
I nod and walk out, my feet slow and steady on the slick floor, and when I hear the screaming start, for a second I turn back.
Illi has the flame of the blowtorch up against Mecedo’s face, his eyeball nothing but jelly sliding down his cheek.
I swallow the bile and leave, a weight lifted from my chest and the night a little safer before me.
I wake up the next morning with mon Monstre naked and warm behind me, and four new jars on my bedside table.
Mon Monstre keeps me in my training, coaxing me into joining him down in the gym most early evenings before he heads out for the day. I enjoy watching him train and it’s good to keep my own skills sharp. My confidence grows daily this way, especially the day I finally use one of le Loup’s choke holds on him and I take him down on the mat. He grunts as he lands and my entire body shakes with the effort it takes me to complete the maneuver, his body being three times my size at least.
I’m sure he’s only humoring me and there’s a million different ways he could have gotten out of it but the grin he gives me has me feeling like the most amazing woman on Earth.
