Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Dumb asshole,” I growl, whipping my forehead forward. I bash it straight into the fucker’s face. “Took that bait too easy.”
He groans, backing away, his arm hanging limp. He tries to draw another knife, but this one’s easy to knock away. I hammer him with more blows until he’s on the ground, cowering with fear.
I kneel on his stomach. I’m breathing hard and hurting. “You hit hard.”
“Fuck… you do too.” He shows me bloody white teeth. “What now?”
“You killed my driver.”
He shifts himself into a ground guard. “Just doing my job.”
“Who sent you? What are you after?”
“Just the cargo.”
“Didn’t have to kill my man for that.”
“He was sleeping. It was too convenient.”
I bash two fists down into his arms. He grimaces as he absorbs the hit. “Who hired you?”
“Doesn’t matter.” He twists and bucks, trying to throw me off balance, but this is classic fighting shit. This is what I was built for. I shrug off his movements and keep him pinned.
“Last chance.” I smash into his guard again. I can tell he’s softening. “If you don’t start talking, I’m going to keep hitting you until you beg me to stop.”
“We’ll see who lasts longer, old man.”
I laugh, a low, ugly rumble. “I don’t stop. I never fucking stop.” I hit him again, and again, and again. I hit him so hard it breaks a finger in my hand. I don’t stop. I hammer down into his guard until I feel his forearms give in, slipping apart, and my fist finds the meat of his ugly fucking face. I smash it, hitting him gleefully, honestly enjoying myself for the first time all evening.
“Enough,” he moans, barely conscious. His face is a wreck. He’ll never look the same again after this.
“Who hired you.” I drop sweat into his mouth. I snarl in his face. “Tell me who sent you.”
“Westbrook… it was Westbrook…”
“The old man?”
“No, his son.”
Charlie’s father. Not unexpected, but a little frustrating. We’d both hoped that it would be her grandfather sending over the thieves, but I wasn’t surprised.
Men like him keep their hands clean and their circles small. Let others take the real risks.
“I appreciate the confession.” I hit him again. He groans, head lolling.
“Please… enough… I talked…”
“You did.” I hit him again. “But you also killed my driver.” I hit him again. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
I beat him until he stops moving. I beat him until he stops breathing. I beat him until he’s an ugly smear on the pavement, and only when it’s clear his brains are oozing from his ears do I finally get to my feet, breathing hard.
I take my phone from my pocket and stop the recording.
“Two minutes of talking… ten minutes of brutality.” I smile to myself. “Exactly how I like it.”
I limp slowly back to my car. Somebody else will come out and clean this shit up.
I have a wife waiting for me back home.
Chapter 31
Charlie
“Ireally didn’t want it to come to this.” I stare at the fence around my father’s Radnor house.
“The recording’s good, but it doesn’t go far enough. You said it yourself, we need the old man.”
I let out a sigh. I know he’s right. I just wanted it to end with our trap the other night.
At least we have leverage now. My father could have pleaded ignorance, at least until Stefano got that confession. That brutal, ugly recording. I wonder if we should play the whole thing so Dad understands who he’s dealing with.
Maybe we’ll do the edited version. Just for brevity’s sake.
“Last chance to stay behind.” Stefano pushes open the door and gets out. “I don’t want you in there with me.”
“I grew up in this place. You’re going to need my help. Besides,” I slap the door behind me and follow him to the fence. “My dad’s a big fucking baby.”
Stefano smothers a smile. “You going to slap him around if he gets in your face?”
“I won’t bother with an open palm.”
“That’s my girl. Put your shoulder and hip into it. That’ll give weight to the punch.”
“How about this?” I trot around the fence line until I find the spot I’m looking for. There are big, fluffy bushes on the other side, perfect to fall into and good at blocking any trespassers from view. “Once this is all over, you give me some fighting tips.”
“You just want an excuse to wrestle.”
“And you just want an excuse to pin me down.” I start climbing the fence and pause at the top. “You need help with this, old man?”
He lets out a long sigh and shakes his head. “Not fucking funny,” he mutters, struggling to get up as easily as I did. I let go and fall back into the bush, hitting it a lot harder than I used to. I roll out, wiping sticks and leaves from my hair. Stefano drops down a moment later, only slightly more graceful.