Page 30 of Fragile Twisted Vows

Or obligation rather.

I’ve been looking for this prick for nearly three weeks. He stole over twenty thousand dollars from my jewelry store, and I’ve been wanting every finger and toe on his body alongside the cash he fucking owes me as payback.

“I want him in the basement asap. No less than thirty, you hear?” I growl.

“Yes, sir,” Bruno says as I hang up the call.

I should feel sorry for the guy. I eat up every minute of his day with my workload, and lately with the divorce and now Lucille, he’s been getting a lot of my frustration.

When the time is right, he’ll get a vacation. The man has given me all of his loyalty and dedication over the last three years, he at least deserves a few days in Barbados, fucking his girlfriend when he pleases.

At least one of us will be getting laid.

Perhaps that’s why I’m so wound up.

Definitely not because of the infuriating brunette I have held against her will.

I step out of the car and lock it, smoothing back my hair and readjusting my length in my pants, hissing as I do. When I make my way out of the garage and to the basement door on the back of the building, I make sure to lock it as I prepare the chair for the little thief Bruno is bringing me. I text my team to make sure all of my guards are on standby at their posts, shutting off my phone and shoving it into my pocket as I pick up the rope by the single chair in the concrete room.

A single light hangs here and as it flickers, I see old drops of blood on the cement floor. Many things have taken place in this room. Things I never wanted to do at first, things I was ordered to do, and eventually, that reluctance slowly morphed into need. Need for vengeance, need to punish. I’m a sick bastard and that’s exactly why I’m in this line of work. After all the gruesome shit I’ve seen in this world, fucking up punks and thieves for screwing around with my business is nothing, but it takes the edge off.

I make sure my gun is locked and loaded before I shove it into my beltline and pat the knife in my pocket. Once all my bases are covered, I adjust the gothic, platinum cross ring on my middle finger. It was passed down by my predecessor and packs a mean fucking punch when it needs to. And due to the fact that my mind is riddled with pale, thick legs and bright blue eyes right now, I’d say punching is the first on my list.

As time goes by, I hear the lock clicking on the door and I stand by the chair with my hands knotted in front of my waist, eagerly waiting for Bruno and the little asshole to walk into the basement. And when they do, my first inclination is to not beat the pathetic, panicked junkie to a pulp, but it’s to ask Bruno if he was able to get a car to pick up Lucille.

And that, that makes me want to fucking kill this little jewel-stealing asshole now.

“Take a seat,” I say to the man, the rope hanging from my pocket as I gesture towards the chair next to me.

His sunken, black eyes dart from me to the chair in fear as Bruno slams the door closed with his foot and drags him to me by the neck.

“You’ve been very hard to find, Joe. Have you been avoiding me?” I ask as Bruno swings him around and slams him into the chair, pinning him at the chest.

“I haven’t done shit!” the junkie shrieks and it takes everything in my power not to roll my eyes at him, because it’s a useless line, a typical one at that.

“Let’s cut the bullshit and move on, yeah?” I growl as I walk around to face him now, Bruno instantly moving away as I place a hand on each side of the chair and crowd the junkie until he sinks back like the pathetic fuck that he is.

“I’m missing over twenty grand in very expensive, rare jewelry Joe. And I just want to know where you put it. That’s all,” I offer, even though I already know where it is.

In the crack pipe that’s fallen out of his pocket.

He looks down at it and curses, sweat dripping down his forehead and matting his thinning hair.

“I don’t know shit man. I didn’t take nothin’, I don’t even know-”

I punch him hard across the jaw, the sounds of crunching and wailing now echoing throughout the basement as I stand and straighten myself after the blow.

“One more time,” I say as he spits blood onto the floor and glares up at me.

“It’s real simple, Joe. I promise. Just tell me where it is,” I say as I rub my jaw, the hairs of my beard rubbing against my fingertips.

“What do I get if I do?” he garbles, and I smile.

“You get to walk out of here alive,” I offer and he rolls his eyes, blood dripping from his mouth.

“And if I don’t?” he growls, and I shake my head at him and click my tongue.

I take out my knife then and switch it open, lowering it so the blade can gleam in his face as his sunken eyes widen.

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