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“Where is she?” I jump off the bed, throwing on my jeans. “Neither of you fuckers better have looked at her.”
“I only look at my wife, and I’m not sure if Finn over here has ever looked at a naked chick.”
I wince at Enzo’s comment when I see Finn’s expression. He grits his teeth before turning away.
I watch as O’Shea’s body is wrapped in plastic by two cleaners. “Where is she?”
“Who?”
“Parisa.”
Enzo claps me on the back. “Ciaran, there’s no one else here.” He glances at Finn before his eyes lock with mine. “When we walked in, we saw you and the dead body. “If there were two of you here, you could’ve at least cleaned this mess up. You know how hard it is to get blood out of the carpet if you let it sit for a prolonged period.”
I shrug. “I don’t need a lecture.”
“You obviously do. Where’s your head at?”
I step up to Enzo. Who the fuck is he to talk to me about losing his head? When he met his wife, he had his head so far up her pussy that he threatened to kill me. “You know what I hate, Enzo? Fuckin’ hypocrites. Would you be cool with me talking trash about Reese?”
“Keep my wife’s name out of your mouth,” Enzo snarls, tossing a folded piece of paper at me.
“What’s this?” I ask, picking up the paper.
“No clue. It was on the pillow beside you. The chick wasn’t interested in sticking around.”
Fuck! My fist connects to the wall, punching a hole.
“Damn, man. It’s just some random pussy. You don’t need to make this shitty job worse. Now we gotta patch that wall up,” one of the cleaners says.
The rage is all-consuming. I grab the cleaner by the shirt and toss him against the wall. The fear in his eyes is a drug, and I want more of it. Who the fuck is this fucker to call Parisa random pussy? She’s mine, and no one will ever talk about her like she doesn’t matter. No one. I pick up my chain and wrap it around my hand, ready to put this fucker down like the dog he is.
The guy covers his face as if his pathetic hands can protect him from me. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
He doesn’t realize that he’s enraged a monster, and now I can’t rest until I get a taste of blood.
“You can’t poke a beast and expect him to do nothing.”
His bones shatter as my fist connects with his jaw. Blood splatters across my face. I pound into him again and again, laughing as more and more blood pools on the floor.
“You’re fuckin’ crazy!”
I laugh. This guy thinks he’s telling me something I don’t know. I hit him again. His face is now a mangled mess of flesh and blood.
I’m so consumed in the moment I can’t focus on anything other than beating him and bathing in his blood. Hands wrap around my shoulders, and Enzo’s voice breaks through the fog. “Ciaran, snap out of it. You’re gonna kill him.”
The cleaner stumbles as he gets up, his face completely unrecognizable. One eye looks like it’s detached. My lip twitches as I take in my artwork.
“Must be a good pussy,” he mumbles.
Enzo drops his arms, releasing me. “Oh, you should’ve kept your mouth shut.”
The guy stumbles back as I step towards him, unable to get his bearings. I smile as I wrap my chain around his neck and squeeze, watching as the fucker meets his maker.
I don't think I’ll ever tire of watching the light fade from someone’s eyes, knowing that I’m the judge, jury, and executioner. Killing gives me control, something that was stripped from me. It gives me balance and centers me, allowing me peace.
“Great, now I gotta clean that mess up,” a voice from the other side of the room says. All three of us look at him, and the guy visibility shakes, holding his hands up in the air in surrender. “Not my money, not my problem. I just need to call someone else from the crew.”
“I gotta get out of here,” I tell Enzo and Finn before storming out. I need to figure out how I’m going to find Parisa, knowing I won’t rest until I do.
The bed shifts as I flop down on it. I thought the shower would clear my head by washing Parisa from my mind, but all it did was make me think about her long, dark hair and large, brown eyes.
I scrub my face, hating how helpless I feel. The girl won’t be easy to find. She’s in a business that allows her the luxury of disappearing whenever she wants. My hand slips into the back pocket of my blood-soaked jeans. I don’t want to throw them in the wash cause her cum and blood are still on them. My heart drops as I hold the folded piece of stationery, but I open it, anyway.
