Page 1 of Waging War
CHAPTERONE
Ben
Click. Click. Click.
The sound of my boots against the wet pavement echoes in time with my thundering heart. Every exhale dissipates into a white cloud against the frozen air, and my hands rest in the pockets of my leather coat. I cross the empty lot beside the old Rosenburg distillery. It’s become the designated spot for lessons that need teaching—and not the grade-school kind.
Alfonzo and Félix wait for me beside a white van. Félix is pensive as usual, but Alfonzo looks downright gleeful with a sinister smile and the death grip he has on a man standing in front of him. A brown bag rests over the man’s face, shielding his identity from me.
“Brought you somethin’,boss.” Alfonzo kicks the backs of his knees, and the man’s hands fly out to break his fall.
A Hail Mary sputters from his lips. “Holy Mary, Mother of God…”
Alfonzo mocks me any chance he gets. Being one of Bruce’s more trusted men, he’s involved in a lot of my dealings, though he knows better than to push me too far.
They all do.
I glare at the jagged scar splitting his brow—courtesy of Juliana. It’s a nice addition to the other lines and slashes marring his face. “Scar’s healed well, I see.”
He sneers, but blessedly, he shuts the fuck up.
The whimpering male between us continues his prayer as sweat coats a ring around the thin bag covering his head. A cheap gold name tag with big, bold letters spelling the nameTonyis pinned to his shirt, as if these guys snatched him straight from his night shift.
Tony convulses, knees grinding against the icy concrete. Any second now, he’s going to piss himself, and the idea of a grown man soiling himself from terror twists my usually numb insides.
“What are his crimes against Diablo?” I deadpan.
Félix shoves a hand into his pants pocket. “He’s been stealing money from the bar at Marquee’s for months.”
“Thispendejothought no one would notice.” Alfonzo spits at the ground beside Tony.
It takes maximum effort not to pick this idiot up and shake him senseless. Who would be stupid enough to steal right from under Diablo’s nose?
You’re not so different, my demons whisper.
I reach down and rip the covering off his head. Crazed eyes fly straight to mine, searching for forgiveness that I can’t give. Tony appears to be in his late fifties. He’s plump and balding, and his sniffling and whining is grating on my already-frayed nerves.
“Please, I beg you. I have a family,” he whimpers, “and k-kids!”
Shaking him off my pant leg, I growl, “That’s something you should have thought about before you decided to steal from the devil.”
I don’t want to feel sorry for him, but as the voices in my head have kindly pointed out, we aren’t so different. Not even a year ago, I’d stolen money from my own brother as well as the very man who’s now ordering this punishment.
Except, where Tony will be fortunate enough to leave a free man, I’ve been controlled for so long that freedom has become a foreign ideal.
I flick my gaze to Alfonzo. “Has the money been recovered?”
A smug grin curls his scarred face. “Every last dime.”
A shudder racks our captive.
“Good,” I respond. Fear widens his dark brown eyes, and I grab the front of his buttoned shirt and haul him forward on his knees across the pavement. “Since the money has been recovered, you can consider it a favor that I’m allowing you to live.” A cruel smirk turns up the edge of my mouth as Alfonzo mutters a curse. “Though I don’t think my counterparts would be so generous.”
Tony sags in my hold. “Oh, thank you. Thank you!”
Punish him, Ben, or you’ll be the one begging for your life.
An inky blackness crowds my vision. How many times have I stood here, doling out punishments for Diablo or watching his lackeys beat their victims within an inch of their miserable lives?
