“Brothers… socks. Hank, do you have any gloves?”
“We do.” I step over to the counter that holds all our tools when he speaks again.
“And some duct tape.”
The prospects snort as they yank off their boots. Dirty socks get peeled off one by one. I don’t even try to hide my laughter, but then I hear a familiar sound. Something unzipping. I’ve barely picked up the items Luca wanted and turned back around, when I see them pissing on the socks.
It must click with the son about what's going to happen, and he starts screaming like a fucking bitch. It’s so loud that it echoes through the room.
“Give the gloves and tape to the prospects. It’s time these two learn what it’s like to have socks crammed in their mouths like my sister did.”
“NOOOOO!” the son yells. “I didn’t piss on them.”
“So it was you?” Luca asks, an evil glint in his eyes. I raise my eyebrow in confusion. Did they put pissy socks in Vee’s mouth?
He starts shaking his head vehemently, but it’s too late.
“Make sure to add extra piss on his,” Luca orders not taking his eyes off the man in front of him.
One of the prospects takes the gloves as the other takes the tape, and they zip their pants back up. Once he has the gloves donned, he bends over to pick up the socks.
“Do the son first,” I order.
The prospect gives me a smile and chuckles under his breath. Once he has the offending objects in hand, they head toward the son. The man clenches his mouth shut and tries to pull his head away until the larger of the prospects steps behind himand holds his head still. The one in front takes hold of his face, gripping his cheeks, forcing his mouth open enough to cram the sock inside, until his muffled gagging and choking fills the basement. Then a strip of tape is placed over his mouth to ensure it stays safely in place.
The son gags behind the taped obstruction, twisting and turning, but it doesn’t do him any good.
The prospects quickly move to the father, who doesn’t even fight. He opens his mouth, eyes stone-cold, as he takes the foul piece of fabric into his mouth.
“A little worse than what you did to Vee,” Luca says casually as his eyes go hard. “But we don’t fucking care.”
Then he slams his fist into the son’s face, knocking his head backward. But he doesn’t stop there; he punches him in the ribs, kidneys, and then right in his groin.
The father gets his turn too. He jams his fingers straight into the gunshot wound in his stomach, twisting his finger, as he shoves it in deeper. The fucker screams around the sock.
“Oh, I can’t wait to have fun killing both of you. But not until I make sure my sister doesn’t want her own ounce of revenge on you.”
Luca pulls out his phone and starts typing. I know who he’s texting. My chest tightens as I step closer to him.
“Is she okay?” I ask.
No answer.
My hands clench into fists.
“Luca, is she okay?” He keeps typing, ignoring me completely. “Luca.” I call his name again, sharper this time. He glances at me. His expression is flat.
“No.” My stomach drops. My hopes that they didn’t have enough time to cause too much damage to her evaporate, as he speaks again. “You don’t get to know.” The words hit likea punch in the gut. He finally looks up from his phone and acknowledges me.
“We’re leaving them here for now. Hank, you get to stay here and be their personal guard, until you’re relieved.”
“What? But—” Who the hell does Luca think he is? He’s not going to keep me from talking to Vee. From seeing her.
“Orders from your Pres. Or they will be, as soon as I go up and talk to him.”
Luca and his prospects leave the room, and I take hold of a chair and fling it across the room, sending it crashing into the wall.
He may have me by the balls right now, but he’s not going to keep me from seeing Vee.
