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I give single warnings to people and expect them to listen.
I consider myself kind for giving them that.
There’s no third chance with me.
“If you don’t reply, I’ll cut your tongue out instead of a finger.” I get into his face and hear his teeth rattle.
“I need the money,” Jack cries out. “I depended on the income, and you … you just cut me off!”
I can’t help but chuckle at the mention ofcutting himoff.
He rubs his sunken eyes, drawing my attention to the track marks on his arm.
I reach across the table, snatch his arm, and dig my fingers into his skin. “I cut you off because you weren’t paying what we demanded.”
Jack grimaces, attempting to jerk his arm away, but I press down harder. “Your sixty percent cut was making it hard to live, Antonio.”
“Which is why we terminated our agreement with you.” I release his arm, and it falls slack on the table. “And what was it you said? You’d find better work elsewhere?” I cross my arms and smirk. “How’s that going for you, considering you’re back here?”
“No one else will do business with me.” Jack gets a brave hair up his ass and spits on the table. “Thanks to your family.”
I sigh, debating how much time I want to spend with him. I have a long-ass to-do list for today, and there isn’t a large enough time slot to torture a man who only has a year max before he pisses off someone else and they murder him.
I withdraw my pistol. Jack’s eyes widen, and he pulls a gun from his jeans pocket. I smirk again as he awkwardly handles the gun, nearly fumbling it from his hold. He releases a long groan while focusing on how to work it. Fucker should’ve practiced handling a gun with three fingers to at least pretend he isn’t a total moron.
“Let’s see who has the better shot then, shall we?” I wait for him to point his gun at me before pulling the trigger.
We’re so close that it doesn’t take long for the bullet to strike him. It travels underneath his skin, into his muscle, and makes its final contact through his skull in only seconds.
Some men don’t pay attention when they take a man’s life.
Not me.
I enjoy watching.
The sound of a bullet shattering through a skull always provides me peace.
Gives me a moment of solace from my fucked-up world.
Jack’s pathetic body collides with a steel chair before crumpling to the floor. A crimson red pools around his body.
I stroll toward him, sweep my Oxford through his blood, and kick him in the face, leaving a blood smear on his cheek. “I always warned you to be faster with everything—counting money, answering questions, and apparently pulling the trigger. I’ll collect any additional money you owe me when we meet in hell.”
Two of my men, Leo and Rafael, assist me in disposing of Jack’s body. We don’t invest too much time into it, given Jack has pissed off a roster of people enough to want him dead. So we toss him into a dumpster in a remote alley, knowing it’s scheduled for pickup this evening.
After I finish, I visit my father in his office. He, Sonny, Vinny, and I have offices within the casino. It serves as our central hub to conduct business.
My father sits behind his desk while Sonny looms in the corner, wearing his usual disgruntled, constipated expression. Both hold a drink in their hands.
“You take care of Jack?” my father asks, resting his glass on the desk.
I tuck my hands into my pockets. “Yeah.”
Sonny exaggeratedly checks behind me. “Where’s Vinny?”
“Something came up,” I lie.
Vinny’s job is to deal with fuckheads like Jack, but I’m always left to pick up his slack. When I talked to him this morning, he confirmed he’d meet me at the casino in an hour. Five hours later, and he’s still a no-show.
