Page 49 of Gluttony

“Please. I’ll tell you everything. Just please don’t kill me!” Now that I’m closer, I recognize the man as Miller, the guy from the restaurant.

“That’s fuckin’ boring. We haven’t even demanded anything.” Hadley rolls his eyes. “Can’t I just torture you a little before you squeal like a piggy?”

“We were running a con. To steal the Abyss. Bowie, she’s supposed to seduce you to get access to your pentho—”

“Shut the fuck up, pencil dick.” I’ve heard enough. I want to break something, but I also know this guy means something to Bowie.

She’s double crossed us, betrayed us, and yet there’s something about her. A con artist she may be, but a great liar she is not. It’s impossible to hold lust in your gaze the way she does while pretending.

“Can I kill him yet?” Hadley is crunching on his Tic Tacs and quickly shoveling more into his mouth.

“Nah. Let’s play.” Hayes grins, and I know he’s worked out a plan already. “Mickey Martin, we know exactly who you are, and we know exactly where you live. I’m gonna suggest you don’t live there anymore. Fuck off somewhere far, far away, and never come back. Like out of the country far. We’ll even give you a little cash to help you on your way.”

“What the fuck?” Always the one to question Hayes’s plans, Hadley throws his head back in exasperation. “You better explain this one later, big bro, because that’s fucked.”

“Yes, yes, I promise. I’ll go. I’ll leave. Anything.” The dude has pissed himself, which is evident by the smell as well as the growing wet patch at the front of his pants. Disappointing. It tells me that he’s unlikely to rat us out at any point, though.

Why Bowie was working with this guy in the first place, I’ll never know. He’s a fucking weasel.

Finding out for certain that she’s shady as fuck gives me mixed feelings. On the one hand, I respect the hustle. On the other hand, even though her lies are shit, I don’t like it.

I guess the three of us will figure something out once we’ve gotten rid of the fucknugget on our table.

Gotta say, I’m a little disappointed we’re not dismembering him and sending his body parts to a pig farm, but I’m interested to see where Hayes is going with this.

I know he likes Bowie just as much as me and Hadley, so this has gotta be killing him a little inside too, even though he’s been suspicious all along. I don’t think he actually wanted to be right this time.

“Take his pinky finger. We’ll call it your promise to us that you’ll keep your gob shut about tonight and never speak to Bowie Jones again.”

Hadley gets straight to work, pulling a dagger from fuck knows where and slicing down on the table. Mickey cries out, his scream piercing through the space right before he passes out like the pathetic shit he is.

“If we kill him, she’ll hate us. Let her see what a cunt he is for herself. She ain’t stealing shit all from us, either. We’ll nip that in the bud and teach her a lesson.”

“Knew you were sweet for her, H.” I chuckle.

“Fuck off.”

Chapter Nineteen

Bowie

This whole week has been a mindfuck.

Just the idea of staying cooped up in the penthouse a minute longer was enough to make me doubt my sanity. Going back to work a week ago, mere days after I was attacked, may have been a bit premature but I regret nothing. Weird shit is happening with the guys and I need the stability of the office to keep my head in the game. On the plus side, my physical body may be battered and bruised but my mind is clear for the first time in my life. With Mickey’s admission the other night, a weight lifted off my shoulders when I decided I was done with him. Done with the snark, done with the violence, done with the criminal activities and this con as a whole. Most of all, done being dependent on a man who clearly has no respect for me. Just…done. I expected regret or sadness but so far, all I feel is relief.

My only worry is that my past is still there and could blow up in my face at any time. But for now, I’m going to let my body heal and enjoy this time with the guys, no matter how strange they’re acting.

After meeting up with Mickey last weekend, I thought I’d get a tongue lashing from at least Orion, who seems to have the role of worrying about those around him. At one point I thought he might, with his jaw set like he was fighting the urge to put me over his knee and spank the rebel out of me, I expected a verbal dressing down.

All I got was a quick “You okay?” and when I reassured him that everything was fine, he simply nodded, then went to his room, clicking the door closed and leaving me out in the hall like a welcomed intruder.

He’s barely spoken ten words to me since.

That’s not even the weirdest part. What has my entire body on high alert is Hayes and the sudden “please” and “thank yous” he’s been throwing my way all week. Short of a frontal lobe lobotomy, nothing could justify this complete one-eighty.

Case in point, the man himself is at my desk this very minute asking—not demanding—for his weekly schedule. The same one I sent over by email two hours ago. He’s seen it, there’s no doubt about that, because Hayes Beckett is nothing if not anal retentive, which means his inbox is neat and organized and his push notifications go straight to his phone and tablet.

This begs the question…why the fuck is he here, again? The fact that this is the second time he’s been to my office doubles his number of visits since I started working here. If only his presence were the only alarming thing about this whole scenario, but it’s not. The thing I can’t wrap my head around is the polite questions and the charming smiles. That’s never happened. Not once. Not even before I started working for them and his suspicions of me were on high alert.

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