Page 64 of Disgrace

Soon, Lucian had dropped the black bag at John’s feet. Bending down, John upended the bag and let the contents spill out where Brad could get a good look at them.

Just to make the point of each thing clear, John went through all of them. “A couple of knives—I like to watch people bleed, you know. Small ice picks because when I drive them up under your fingernails, you’ll choke on your own vomit. A stun-gun. We all know what that does, right? It’ll be better, though, because you’re soaked with water, now. Vice grips—they’re great to pull out shit. Teeth, whatever. And a gun.”

John smiled at the man again, knowing damn well he looked cold. “Take your pick.”

Brad stumbled over his words.

John nodded. “Yeah, we’re not playing games now. You need to start talking.”

Like most fuckers, Brad was stubborn. John used the stun-gun first, and watched the foolish idiot jump halfway across the warehouse floor before the shocks finally stopped running through his system. He let the guy bleed a little bit when he drove a knife into his kneecap, and then sighed—annoyed—when Brad cried when the ice picks came out to play.

Bending down in front of the now bound, soaked, bleeding, and soon-to-die Calabrese enforcer, John tipped his head to the side.

Maybe his father was right.

Maybe he hadn’t needed somebody to keep him in line after all.

“I just want information, Brad,” John said, “and I have all day. We would really like to give my sister something to make her husband’s funeral a little bit better. You could help us out here.”

“Y-y-you fuck—”

John stabbed the stun-gun into Brad’s neck for a couple of quick seconds. It was another minute before the guy stopped jerking all over the place.

“Next time,” John told him, “I am going to shove this fucking thing down your throat, and stab your eye out with the goddamn ice pick. See, I would have taken information for my sister about William, and probably called it a day. You couldn’t make shit easy on me, though, could you? Now I’m going to expect a hell of a lot more.”

Brad swallowed hard.

John nodded. “Yeah, I told you I wasn’t fucking playing around, asshole. Start talking.”

The enforcer would still die, though.

It was just how shit worked.

• • •

John slipped into the third pew behind his sisters and mother. He didn’t want to impose his presence on them right now, considering everything.

At the front of the church, William’s black casket rested high enough for everyone to see it whether they were standing up, or sitting down. The silver accents and bars shined brightly under the flickering candles.

“When do you think you can come over again?” Siena asked.

That burner phone he left for her was coming in handy. Talking with her early in the morning gave John something to get through the day, really.

“Not sure,” John replied honestly.

He knew that wasn’t a good enough answer for her, but it would have to do. After all, they had delivered the dead enforcer’s body to the doorstep of Kev Calabrese’s new place of residence—his mother’s brownstone. It had only been a few days since John extracted information from the guy, and then killed him, but he kept him on ice to keep the body from going into decomposition.

He hoped Kev liked their present.

“I’ll try to figure out something soon,” he said. “But I have to go. This funeral is about to get started.”

“Don’t forget to tell Andino about Kev and Darren for me.”

“I won’t forget to tell Andino, love. Relax.”

“Okay.”

“Ti amo, Siena.”