Marco spits on the ground with disgust. “Is that his dick?”
I nod, glancing at the bloody appendage on the floor. “Turi asked Seb to cut it off before turning him into a torch. I’m just following orders.”
“Amen.” He sniffs, lighting a cig. “Having the mayor’s assistant’s gratitude could be beneficial for us. Seb never does something for nothing.”
“Neither do you,” I remind him.
He flips me off. “Is that the Enzino runner?” he asks.
I aim my knife at the dirtbag tied to the chair on the other side, who beat up Art and then ran away. “Yeah,” I growl, sending a murderous glare his way.
Filippo and Ryan grabbed him out of a bar an hour ago; that’s why I had to leave Art to come here. I thought about bringing him here, but violence doesn’t seem to be up his alley. He can’t even defend himself—even though those teeth of his are sharp. I still have the bite marks on my skin to prove it. But it makes me wonder what other things he doesn’t have in common with his family? He’s always been Enzino’s black sheep, and isn’t that a good thing?
I stalk toward Enzino’s man, and he whimpers at the dark look on my face.
“Don’t worry, motherfucker, he’ll make sure you tell us everything we need to know,” Marco explains to him, making him shiver with fear.
I stop near the table and grab the hammer, leaving my knives for later. I don’t crave the adrenaline rush that comes with killing another living being like some other mobsters do. But the angry beast inside me likes to be drenched in the blood of others as well as its own.
“I know nothing. I swear,” the guy cries, glancing at the tool in my hand. He is already scared shitless. Good. But I need more. I need to see terror to feed the beast.
“I-I’m only a soldier. They don’t tell me nothing,” he repeats. The stench of sweat and cheap booze is repulsive on him.
“Your nothings are unreliable shit to us,” Marco states, tossing the butt of his cigarette at the guy. It bounces against his torso and drops on the floor.
“Please. I swear.”
Marco suddenly wears his gold knuckles, he kisses one of the crosses carved on the top, and then delivers a punch across his face, sending a spray of blood over the floor with a couple of teeth rolling.
I sigh at him.
He raises his hand in the air. “You are not the only one in need of venting. Fly’s fucking cat is driving me crazy.”
Like I give a fuck about that. Even though I know exactly what he means. Nacho is a horny demon.
The Enzino man spits blood on the floor, hitting my new shoes.
“Is this about Arturo Enzino?”
“Nobody takes from me.” My voice is quick and centered.
“I-I didn’t know he was with you.” He whimpers. “Don Jack thought he was just shacking up with one of his fucks. He told me to grab his son and bring him to the house.” He futilely pulls against the chains, restraining his torso and arms.
The memory of Art’s swollen eye and cut cheek makes me grit my teeth. I lift the hammer and in one swift movement, drop it on his ankle, crushing it. I hear the bones crunch, then his wailing. I glance at the mangled joint for a moment before I turn toward his other ankle.
“Fuck, wait! N-no! I didn’t know he was with you. I swear!” he screams, spitting and crying. Eyes wide with fear.
As if crushing crab shells and not human bones, I deliver a second blow, showing no emotion whatsoever. The disturbing sound of bones snapping out of place is drowned out by the fucker’s loud groans.
“Wh-why aren’t you…saying anything?” he sobs.
“Oh, that’sScarface's way.”
I growl at Marco’s taunt. I fucking hate that nickname. So much I’d accept Art’s stupid ones instead. All of them. Even though now that I think about it, when we’ve fucked lately, all he’s called me is baby or Luca. And I don’t fucking hate that.
I drop the hammer on the floor, the loud thud makes the guy jump and whimper. I move to the table again and grab a knife, the bigger one, serrated. It slices through materials like a saw rather than a push cut. It will help to turn off my damn brain. When I turn, Marco has his gun pointed at the idiot’s knee. What now?
“Which leg?” he asks, moving the gun muzzle from one to the other.
