He hissed when I tugged him in a headlock, holding him in place. As he tried to fight back, Benny stepped to my side and stuck his Glock to the side of the guy’s temple.
We couldn’t pull the trigger. Neither of our guns had silencers. If Secret Service heard the sound of even a single bullet in the vicinity of the president, they’d lose their shit.
I grinned as I slit the man’s throat, tugging on the loose skin as I dug my knife in deep. When I cut through enough for blood to burst from his neck, I shoved him onto the dirty concrete. He wriggled on the ground like a fish out of water, gripping his throat, beside dirty cigarette butts and used needles.
Blood seeped through his throat as he gasped for words.
I knelt to his level, my eyes meeting his bloodshot ones.
“Please,” he gurgled out, reaching for me like I was some savior.
“Please what?” I asked.
“H … he …”
I could tell he was trying to sayhelp, but couldn’t form the words.
He wanted my help?
Sure thing, buddy.
I drew my arm back and rammed my knife through his eyeball. He howled in pain. Chuckling, I shoved it deeper into the organ until I felt the tip of the knife hit skull and then the ground.
The guy was pinned down by the face with my knife but managed to thrash his body from side to side.
I rotated my wrist, digging deeper into his eye socket. Once he gurgled blood from his mouth, I drew the knife out a few inches to cut the optic nerve with perfect precision.
I grunted in annoyance at the slight resistance and wiggled the knife a few times to break his eyeball loose from the socket. The muscle around the eyeball broke, and I pulled it clean out and held it up like it was a marshmallow on a skewer I was ready to make s’mores with.
Blair needed to behave, or I’d make her fucking eat it.
Speaking of Blair …
As I stood, I looked into the window, and she stared back, horrified.
“Get her back to the university,” Benny said. “I wish we had something that could zap this from her fucking memory.”
“Men in Blackstyle?” I asked with a slight chuckle.
“If she says a word—” my father started.
“Don’t worry,” I assured. “She knows talking means her death.”
My dad nodded, though I could tell he didn’t fully believe me. He slammed the heel of his loafer onto the man’s face to quiet his whimpers. I heard bones crack.
Blair beat her fists against the window as I saluted them and circled the car. I slid the man’s eye in my pocket, removed my gloves, and tossed them to Benny, who was also wearing gloves, to dispose of them.
When my hands were clear, I unlocked my car via the key fob and swung open the driver’s door.
She scooted as far away from me as she could get when I slid into the car. I chuckled when she tried to open the door, but my father slammed it back shut in her face. She shrank back in her seat at the stern expression he gave her.
I slowly started the engine while my father and Benny headed toward the front of the laundromat, where my father’s driver was waiting in the black SUV. Benny was on the phone, and I knew he was giving directions for someone to come dispose of this loser’s body.
No one would miss that man.
In fact, I’d done the world a favor.
You’re welcome, civilization.
