Page 56 of Humility

Matt yelled to Nicholas that he would be back and hopped into the back seat. Unfortunately for Matt, unless I liked the answers I got from him, he would never be going home again.

“What’s the special occasion,” Matt asked as Dario pulled out of the parking lot.

“I don’t discuss business on an empty stomach. Do you like waffles, Matt?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. I didn’t give a fuck what he said. “I do. I like them cooked golden brown and loaded with fresh fruit, and I know just the place.”

“Sounds great,” Matt said, then sat back and didn’t say another word, like a scolded child.

“Great, indeed,” I mumbled.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

ANGELO

I pulled the knife out of Matt’s shoulder, and his scream echoed along the walls of the abandoned warehouse—a stark contrast to the sunlight that pooled in the windows.

I owned everything in this shit part of Beastville. The area had become rundown with time, weather, fire, and abuse. While others saw it as nothing more than a place for the homeless and drug dealers to hang out, I saw it as a prime opportunity. The land was practically given away and was only a ten-minute drive from the city’s main hub. With money and some TLC, I planned on turning this into an upscale shopping district with a hotel to rival anything in New York.

Beastville was a smaller community, but the tourism was prime and ripe for the picking with nearby attractions, beaches, and nightclubs. It also helped that there was a rampant number of motorcycle clubs and mobsters looking to spend and launder their money. Which, of course, gave me the perfect excuse to move my underground and very illegal casino above ground.

“You know, Matt, I was really hoping you would tell me I was wrong, and we could’ve avoided all of this.” I slowly waved my hand up and down to indicate his badly beaten body.

“Please, please,” he begged.

I rolled out my shoulders while sweat dripped down my back. I looked over at Dario, who hadn’t moved from his post by the door, watching for anyone who came this way. He looked like a fucking statue. I didn’t even know if he blinked.

Walking over to Matt, I cast my shadow over his body. He blinked out of the eye, not swollen completely shut, as he rolled his head up to look at me.

“Please,” he blubbered again, blood and spit dripping from his mouth to join the tears trailing down his cheeks.

“This would go so much smoother if you would answer the question. Where is my money?”

He cried and said please repeatedly, which was really starting to piss me the fuck off. Like I needed one more thing in my life to piss me off?

My knuckles cracked across his jaw, the sound of my large rings connecting as loud as his wails. His head fell forward as he blubbered. I stomped away and picked up the folder of paperwork that held the evidence against him.

“I asked you a fucking question,” I growled as I squatted before him. Smacking Matt across the face with the folder seemed to startle him, and he lifted his head to look at me. “I know you’ve been stealing from me. You’ve been padding the invoices and taking the extra money. I will let you live, and you can scurry off to be with your family as long as you move very fucking far away. But I want my money. No money, no living. Do you understand?”

“I don’t have it,” he said so softly I hardly caught the words.

“Say that again? I thought you just said that you don’t have three-quarters of a million dollars anymore. I couldn’t have heard you properly.” I chuckled as I gave him a fake smile, but his split bottom lip quivered as he shook his head back and forth.

“I don’t have it,” he said again. “Please don’t kill me, I’ll get it back.”

Standing, I walked over to the steel bench and slammed the folder down with a thud.

“What did you do with my money?” I was quickly losing my patience.

“I spent it.”

“Well, I gathered that. What did you spend my money on,” I asked, picking up my knife as I turned to face Matt. His eyes focused on the sharp blade I’d used to stab him multiple times in places that wouldn’t kill him but would hurt like a son of a bitch. Blood pooled on the floor around the chair he was tied to, but I would drain him dry until I got the answer I was after. If this idiot bought a boat or a fancy car, I could re-coop some of my money, but if he snorted it up his nose or went on trips, I had no way of getting any of it back.

“I went on a cruise and got divorced. I needed the money to pay off my wife,” he said. “She was trying to kick me out of the house.” He broke down again, and I almost felt sorry for him. Not that I’d ever been married, but I knew what crazy things love and hate could make you do. The difference between me and Matt was that I never intended to keep what I stole for myself. I’d only taken it as a part of a ruse to get what I really wanted.

“Pay off your now ex-wife.” I grabbed the handkerchief from my suit pocket and cleaned off the bloody blade. “And why was she divorcing you, Matt?” My curiosity was dragging this shit out.

He cried harder, and my control slipped. Stomping the short distance, I let my fists fly until he slumped in the chair, knocked out. I pulled out smelling salts from my pocket and held them under Matt’s nose. With a jerk and a gasp, he sat up and looked around. As soon he realized he was still tied up, he whimpered.

“Please, let me go. I’ll earn your money back. I’ll work overtime or do something else as well as my day job. I swear I’ll get you your money.”