Well, fuck me.
I have to admit, that’s incredible. He knows his financial situation. He’s also smart enough to know that I’m doing him a solid. If I weren’t willing to give him a finger discount, I’d probably just cut his throat and toss him in the river.
I slice off his middle finger as quickly as I can. It’s a mercy, really.
Once I release him, he drops to the floor, cradling his ruined and bloody hand. I toss him some paper towels. He wads them against the wounds.
“Two thousand,” I say, poking at the severed fingers. “You got two thousand?”
“I’ll give it to Frankie tonight.” He’s sobbing and hugging himself. “I swear, I just gotta get it from my apartment.”
“If you try to run, I’ll kill you and I’ll burn your mother’s apartment. I’ll slice off her fingers, make sure she matches her son. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Stellan. I swear, I won’t do it again. I got the money. I’m so sorry, bro.”
“I bet you are.” I toss his fingers to him. “I think these are yours. Tell those rats you work with that I’m watching. I want my cut.Don’t make me come here in person again. You know I hate working hard.”
I leave the bathroom whistling to myself. Several of the cooks are gathered in the hall looking on in terror. The guy I spoke to when I first showed up stares at me with fear and respect.
“Esta bien?” he asks.Is he okay?
“Sobrevivira, desafortunadamente.”He’ll live, unfortunately.
The sunlight feels oppressive. I walk to my car with my hands shoved in my pockets. I hoped that coming here and taking care of Hector myself would be cathartic. It’s been a while since I’ve gone on an old-fashioned shakedown like that. Typically, my crew handles these details.
And it did feel good. I relished the feel of the blade through his flesh. There’s a part of me that’ll always love pain. Suffering never fails. It never walks away. It never turns its back. Suffering is always there for me.
But Hector wasn’t enough. I need more to quiet the voice in my head. There are too many pressures right now, and a huge hole opened in the middle of my life last week. Maybe I thought I could fill it with blood.
Apparently not.
My phone rings as I start the BMW’s engine.
“Stellan? It’s Cathy. The owner got back to me.”
“Was our friend amenable to my offer?” I wipe my hands on a spare towel I keep in the glove compartment.
“Two million did the trick. You’re overpaying, though.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Send over the paperwork. I want this to close as soon as possible.”
I smile to myself. Cathy couldn’t possibly understand, but this is going to be one of the best investments I’ve ever made. It’s a long-term play.
Potentially, it’s the rest of my life.
All for a fucking waitress.
A girl who could be the key toeverything.
Only she has no idea.
KIRA
Tabby leans against the frame of her front door and sucks on a vape pen. She blows a thin layer of smoke up toward the ceiling. I tap my nails against my teeth as she looks at me, lips flat. “You hear about the new owner?” she asks, arching an eyebrow. “Can you believe that?”
I shake my head in surprise. Someone bought this building? Are they one of those big rental companies?”
“Nah, I don’t think so. It’s just some guy, apparently?” She shrugs a little. Tabby’s in her thirties and lives with her husband, Josh. They have a toddler and a dog, and she’s always saying she’s going to quit smoking. That hasn’t happened since I’ve been here.
