Page 60 of Dance of Devils
Unsurprisingly, he gets no reply, since Sean and Terence's earpieces aren't working.
Zak’s face fills with what I assume is steroid-fueled anger and thumbs his radio again. “Sean! Terry!” he barks. “Stop watching the girls anddo your fucking job!”
Still no answer. By now Zak looks like he's ready to kill.
“Fuck!” he snarls, whirling back to me. “Look…Kevin, was it?”
“That’s me.”
He exhales. “I hate to ask, brother, but…you think you could stay out here by the door for a minute while I deal with this? Anyoneshows up, just tell them it’s a ten-minute wait to get in. I’ll have the manager comp your drinks all night.”
I smile. “No problem at all.”
He grins. “Appreciate it, man.”
I give him about a ten-second head start before I step back into the club and follow him as he marches straight for the restroom.
The minute he’s inside, he’s fuckingmine.
I slam a fist into one of his kidneys from behind, then the other, then his ear, making him scream before I kick his knees and send him collapsing to the piss-wet, sticky floor. I lock the door and calmly walk over to him.
He starts to scramble to his feet, but I’m much faster. And despite his size and juiced-up bulk, I sincerely doubt the fucker has ever been in a real fight in his life, aside from throwing drunks out of this place.
Me, though?
I’ve been inseveral.
When I start working him over, I do so methodically, making a deliberate statement. Like an artist or a surgeon. I break his nose first, then his left orbital, then get to work on his mouth, knocking two teeth out.
His abdomen is next, my fists pounding his torso over and over, until even his gym-honed muscles cave and I hear the satisfying snap of ribs. His balls similarly feel the wrath of my shoe, until the top of my foot actually hurts a bit.
He’s done after that, slumped whimpering and bleeding all over the floor, which I’m quite sure is even more piss-wet now.
He mumbles for mercy when I flick out my knife, grab his greasy ponytail in a fist and yank his head back, exposing his neck to the blade.
I’m not going to kill him, though I wouldreallylike to. But if it’s known that he hit Brooklyn the other night, and then he winds up dead in the men's room of the strip club where she works, she’d be at the top of any semi-competent police detective’s suspect list.
And I know what it feels like to not want the police poking into your life.
I squat beside him, tapping his neck with the tip of my knife a few times before I put it away.
“In case it’s unclear,” I growl quietly, “this is about Brooklyn Ellis.”
His puffy, swelling eyes widen a little bit.
“As in,Cherry Pie. There will be no retaliation, got it?” I say icily. “You take this out on her, or anyone else? I’ll know, and I’ll find you, and next time,I won’t stop. Nod if you understa?—”
“Fuucck yooou,” Zak blurts through his bloody mouth.
I punch him as hard as I can between the eyes, smiling when his head bounces off the sticky floor with a crack, knocking him out.
Pissing on his unconscious body isn’t necessary, butfuck, it feels good.
Then I slip out of the restroom and walk calmly out the front door.
I'm sure I didn’t get all her monsters tonight.
But it’s a start.
