25

Clinton
Soon…
The single word texted from a burner phone that had likely been tossed had changed my mood entirely.
To say I was wired would be a serious understatement.
If the implied threat was meant to send me cowering into a corner, it had provided the opposite effect.
I was ungodly enraged. Anything could set me off, and something had.
After dealing with the prick who had Maria’s life in the palm of his hand, I was hungry for blood. I considered myself to be a tolerant man most of the time. However, when I got to a certain point, people knew to stay out of my way. Even looking at me sideways could be grounds for termination or worse.
“You’re on edge. Again.” The words were said as I strolled into the outer room, my righthand man waiting for me. Brock Carter was the only person in my employ, and one of three in the world who could get away with tossing out basic insults.
He had his arms folded but threw his hand out, his palm pressing against my chest to stop me from barreling into the room where the jerk who’d almost killed his wife was being held.
“Don’t do this, Brock.” My snarl was laced with venom. At this point, there were two methods of soothing the anger and settling the darkness furrowing inside like a rancid infection. Unfortunately, brutal sex was off the table. I wasn’t in the mood to pretend I gave a damn about a woman long enough to get my rocks off.
The second was just as enjoyable, albeit messy. I wanted to peel away every inch of skin from the bastard who’d dared attack a woman. I’d done it before, but this time it would be personal.
Exhaling, he didn’t budge. He simply shook his head. “I wouldn’t be doing the job you hired me to do if I allowed you inside that room right now. You’ll kill him and that jerk still needs to provide for his family. He’s all they have.”
“Who gives a fuck?” I backed away, taking a deep breath and holding it.
“Well, unless you plan on saddling yourself with paying for a wife and three kids for the rest of your life, then I suggest you take a beat and calm the fuck down.”
Exhaling, I glared at him but finally nodded. He was right, as he usually was. “Fine. I’ll take a minute.”
“Good. Now, what the fuck happened to make you crazy?”
Crazy wasn’t the word for it. It was as if I’d been dragged into the past, the nightmare of what had occurred all those years ago coming dangerously close to the surface. If Theodore’s father was dead set on bringing us down, then we’d have no recourse but to end the chapter. What bothered me was that there would be additional questions, especially since he’d likely talked to the detective who’d bothered me.
Fuck. This situation was getting out of hand already. I knew better than to allow any loose ends to remain, but both Weston and Christian had convinced me to back away. Why was it all coming crashing down now?
“Be careful when your past comes back to haunt you,” I told him.
“The shit from the Elite?”
I’d kept many dark secrets in my life. It was a necessity in my line of work. The fact that I’d trusted him enough to mention the power we held during those four years over a bottle of bourbon hadn’t been in my best interest. I’d even considered ending his life because of what he’d learned, but the man was far too valuable. He’d saved my butt on more than one occasion.
“Yeah.”
“Well, if you need me to handle anything, I’ll be happy to take care of it.”
“You’re a twisted fuck, just like I am. It may come down to that. I’ll let you know.” I took another deep breath, then brushed my hands down my jacket, unbuttoning it at the same time. “Let’s get this over with.”
“You sure you don’t want me to deal with Brody?”
I managed to grin, which was usually the sign I wouldn’t become a total psychopath. “I think the lesson needs to come from me, or he’ll consider doing it again.”
He nodded. “Good point.”
As he opened the door, my thoughts briefly drifted to Maria, a smile crossing my face. As an image of her lovely face slipped into the forefront of my mind, I was pleasantly surprised how calm I’d suddenly become. Perhaps she was a good luck charm of sorts. I made a mental note to insist she have dinner with me.
One taste could be all I needed. Or maybe not.
Several lascivious thoughts lingered as I walked into the soundproof room. I’d known the moment I was taking over the casino that I’d need to spend an exorbitant amount of time handling the renovation and subsequent operation of the expansive resort. That meant I needed a secure area to handle different, more brutal aspects of my business. Including doling out punishment as necessary.
With a separate entrance, a secure gated parking lot with eight-foot concrete walls, the location allowed for maximum privacy when handling disposals as necessary.
The existence of the ‘special’ facility was widely known in the ranks of my employees as well as listed as an ugly rumor with my enemies. Which of course I’d started. I’d learned early on that an unsaid threat was just as powerful as one issued in person. Plus, it fed the sadistic man inside of me.
I enjoyed seeing them sweat.
Which was exactly what Brody was doing. People who knew him called him the Bruiser because of his use of his fists. In this case, his misuse.
By the glint of fear in his eyes, the room had worked his magic.
He’d been snatched up just getting off from work by Brock and another Capo, Marty, with two other soldiers remaining in the back of the room in case things got messy. Brody had been a damn good dealer in the casino since the opening, but the stories of his abuse to his once beautiful wife had finally crossed a line.
The boys had roughed him up pretty good, leaving me enough real estate if I wanted to create an entirely new face for him. I would ordinarily enjoy carving his wife’s name onto one cheek, the word ‘abuser’ on the other, but given my sudden good mood because of Maria, I might use another tactic. It depended on his actions and level of remorse.
I grabbed a chair, twisting it the opposite way and sitting down in front of him, crossing my arms across the stiff back.
Brody seemed surprised at my actions, flinching.
I glanced around the room at the various instruments and tools I’d acquired with nothing but punishment in mind. Inside these walls, I could carve a man into filet if needed.
“I don’t need to tell you how badly you fucked up, Brody.”
“I did nothing.”
His insistence irritated me. “So, you enjoy beating your wife on a regular basis?” As I lifted my head, glaring into his eyes, I could tell he wasn’t clueless as to what I was talking about. That gave him one bad boy point. I rated the men who sat in this chair. If they stayed under three, they were given a decent warning. Four or five, things started to get messy. Anything a seven or above and they’d shit themselves before begging for death.
Something else I enjoyed was betting on the number I’d ultimately give them. My guess was a six, just below the threshold where I’d be required by my rules to provide for his family for the duration of their lives.
“Fuck you,” he spit out. “She’s my wife. I can do anything I want with her.”
Mistake and bad boy points two and three. “You have children to think about, including the one inside her belly.”
“Bitch. I don’t think it’s mine.”
I pulled back, glancing at Brock, who shook his head. It was apparent that Brody was a clueless Neanderthal. We were up to five points. It wasn’t looking good for the heartless prick.
“Let me ask you a question. Do you love your wife?”
He hesitated but only because he hadn’t anticipated the question. “Yeah.”
Certainly not a romantic dude. “Then it’s your responsibility to treat her like a queen. I assure you that that child growing inside is yours. A boy, if I seem to recall. A legacy that you will treat with love and respect just like you will with your wife. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I always made it a point to know what I was talking about. For all the wrong reasons, his wife still adored him and would never stray.
“Like I said before,” he threw out through clenched teeth, his words slightly slurred from the beating he’d taken, “she’s my wife.”
And just like that he found himself on level six. It was almost like playing Russian Roulette. Perhaps that would have been more effective. “I can tell my requirements aren’t getting through to you, Brody, and that’s a shame. I’m going to have my men ensure that they get through to you in just a few moments.” I stood, taking my time to return the chair to its original position. Then I casually pulled my weapon from my jacket, studying it in front of him before shoving the barrel under his chin.
He finally had the fear of God flash in front of his eyes.
“Let me be very clear, Brody. You will never raise a hand to your wife or any of your children ever again. I do mean ever. I don’t care if she comes to her senses and fucks every man in this resort, or if your kids grow up to hate you, which they should, you will not touch them. If you do, what happens after I leave this room will be considered child’s play compared to what will happen in the future. Because I’ll be the one providing your punishment, which will take days since I enjoy inflicting pain. I think you know people refer to me as a twisted psychopath. Yes?”
He swallowed, his eyes coming close to bulging. Then he nodded once.
“Excellent.” I started to turn away, grinning given Brock’s surprised expression. He wasn’t used to seeing me in such a good mood. I rubbed my jaw, looking at Brody again. “Oh, and when you recover, which could take some time, you will buy your wife flowers once a week. Don’t always purchase Marias. Make them special, her favorite color. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” Suddenly, he grinned as if he had something on me. I waited, narrowing my eyes. “By the way. People know about that night.”
“That night?” I froze, instantly on edge. “What night are you talking about?” I tipped my head enough to see his eyes. He thought he carried some big, bad secret with him, one worth money or a get-out-of-jail-free card.
“Does the term the Elite mean anything to you?”
“From four of the best years of my life. What’s it to you?”
“People know what you did.”
“People?” I laughed. “I did a lot of things, Brody. Care to expound?”
He glanced towards Brock then back to me. “No, sir. I was just agreeing that you were a psycho.”
Why did I have the feeling there was more to his warning?
I slipped the weapon into my jacket, happy with the outcome at this point. Brock followed me to the door, laughing softly under his breath.
“I don’t know what liquor you had, but consider it your drink of choice,” he said.
“Not liquor, my friend. Something better. A beautiful woman who might get me out of my dry spell.”
“Well, then. She must be something special.” Brock guided me out the door. “What did the dirtbag mean by dishing your alma mater?”
“I’m not certain. See if you can get it out of him.”
“No problem. What treatment do you want?”
“I think the use of the Louisville Slugger will work.”
“Top or bottom?”
I threw Brody one last glance. “Let’s go bottom. As you reminded me. He does need to provide for his family, so he needs his arms and hands. However, there’s nothing in the rules against our dealers sitting. Permanently.”
“You got it, boss. You’re still the sickest fuck I know.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, Brock. One last thing. Have one of the men drop off an envelope of cash and a bouquet of flowers to his house. His wife will need a little help for the time being.”
The sound of his laughter followed me as I left the room. As soon as I did, another grin slipped across my face.
Maybe I’d invite Maria to my suite instead. I could only imagine what kind of mood I’d be in after spending an entire night with her.
It would be good for employee morale.