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“That was it. I swear, we didn’t plan to take any money straight out of your pocket.” Chandler cleared his throat, trying to meet our gazes but failing. “It all stopped once Ramada went missing.”

Benito blew out a puff of smoke. I applied pressure dragging the blade back and forth, cutting into Chandler’s flesh. I had to be careful. Too much pressure would have the knife cutting off his dick like a hot knife through butter. I sawed it instead, forcing him to feel his flesh parting slowly as I cut off his cock.

His screams grew, and he flailed as much as his restraints allowed. His words became intangible as he banged his head back against the table. The stench of urine filled the air, mixing with the metallic scent of blood.

I grimaced as piss cleared some of the blood off my tattooed hands. I gritted my teeth and stopped halfway through his cock.

Giancarlo pushed off the wall, grabbed Chandler’s face, and slapped him. The cop’s mouth opened and closed before his eyelids fluttered. Blood continued to drip out past my knife.

“You shouldn’t lie. Who’s all working on this?” Benito asked.

Chandler shook his head, choking on his saliva.

“Man, I’ve met idiots before, but you’re taking the fucking cake here.” Giancarlo took a step back, wiping his hand on his pants leg.

Benito didn’t need to give me direction. I cut through the remaining piece of flesh. Blood squirted up, and Giancarlo let out a huff of laughter.

“He’s not going to hold out,” I said. I’d been working Chandler over long before they arrived. It had just slipped my mind to ask questions.

“Doc is already on her way,” Benito said.

I grabbed a wad of paper towel from Chandler’s kitchen and stuffed it over the bleeding stump where his cock once was.

The room grew quiet as I leaned against the wall. Tension hung heavy in the air. This had been going on far longer than any of us had realized. We were going to need to put the fear of the devil in everyone that was under us.

Benito must have predicted that I was going to go too far too fast. Not even five minutes later, one of our men let the doc through.

Melony’s thick curly hair was pinned back in a bun. Her dark brown skin glowed even in the dim lighting of the kitchen. She stepped through, her mouth turned down in a frown, the moment she saw the man on the kitchen table. She stepped around, trying to avoid the puddles of blood as she approached him. “How long?”

Benito stared at the doc. “Long enough to answer my questions.”

She shook her head. “It won’t be easy.” She held her hand up, silencing Benito. She was probably one of the very few women who could, besides our nonna. “Once I’m done, be ready to work quickly.” She started setting up, taking some of his blood and testing.

I turned away and moved to the side as we waited for her to bring Aaron Chandler back around. Couldn’t get answers if he was knocked out or too close to death.

“When he gives up your boy, I want him dead,” Benito said.

I went stiff at the thought of killing Tex. No matter how much I threatened him, if it came down to it, would I be able to pull the trigger?

“He won’t,” I said through gritted teeth.

Benito didn’t look convinced. Giancarlo was quick to jump up before a full-blown argument started again.

“Come on, are we sure he’s working with someone?”

“Yes,” Benito and I both said in unison.

“There are too many products and too many avenues being fucked with for him to be able to do it alone,” Benito said. He put his cigarette out and grabbed another. “Had to have inside information on our shit as well.” He eyed me accusingly, and my fist balled up tighter.

It isn’t Tex!I kept my mouth closed. I could scream it until I got blue in the face, and my brother still wouldn’t believe me. It would take every drop of evidence and then a fucking miracle to convince him otherwise.

“Benito—”

“Shut up, Gin,” Benito said. He pointed his cigarette at him. “I know you don’t want to go back to prison.”

Giancarlo’s face twisted in anger before smoothing out. Out of the three of us, he wore his emotions a lot more. He was also the one who hated confined places. Hospitals and jails were all the same to my brother.

“This is different,” Gin argued.