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“And I suppose you are right in the head, huh?” I scoff, pressing the blade deeper. A droplet of blood slips from beneath the blade, trailing down his skin. “Don’t make me fucking laugh.”
He looks down at the blade, snot and blood dripping from his nose and onto his piss-soaked jeans. “Look, I admit it. I was a cunt.”
“Was?” I bark out a laugh.
“Iama cunt,” he corrects himself. “But it’s the drug’s man. They make you fucking crazy. I love that boy.”
“LOVE?!” I boom, the sound of my voice loud in this hot as fuck basement. “You don’t know the meaning of the word! Don’t tell me you love that kid because we both know all you love is your next hit and the sounds of his screams when you beat him.”
“I swear to you,” he cries, eyes widening in pain as I bury the tip of the blade further, slicing through muscle this time. “I won’t hurt him again.”
“You’re right, you won’t,” I reply, then shove the blade through the gap in his ribcage and pierce his motherfucking lungs, drowning him in his own blood. “And neither will she.”
* * *
After takingoff my blood splattered coveralls that I wore to protect my clothes, and thoroughly scrubbing my hands clean, I head back upstairs into the main warehouse. To avoid walking through the gym, I take the longer route to Grim’s office via the corridor that circles the building, passing Cleveland on my way.
He nods in greeting, sliding a finger beneath the stiff collar of his fitted blue shirt. It’s got red edging around the pocket and cuffs, and reminds me of the uniform the employees of the local supermarket wear. I can’t resist the urge to tease him just a little bit. Nothing like a bit of lighthearted ribbing after some good old bloody violence. It’s all about the balance and shit.
“Clean up in aisle eight,” I say, laughing at my own joke.
“Excuse me?” he asks, not getting it at all.
My smile drops. Cleveland’s good at his job but he’s stiffer than a priest’s dick in a nunnery.
“I took care of things for Ford,” I explain. “His stepdad is currently choking on his own blood in the basement, that is if he isn’t already dead. I didn’t bother to stick around to check. Can you call in the cleaners whilst I go chat with Grim? Make sure they come after closing hours.”
He nods, pulling out his phone. “Consider it done.”
“Good man.” I grin, refraining from blurting out another joke that’s on the tip of my tongue.
“Is that all?’ he asks.
“Any news about Rodriguez?”
“Not yet… Don’t worry we’ll find him,” he adds quickly.
“I ain’t worried. That prick will get what’s coming to him sooner or later.”
“Indeed,” Cleveland replies, as straight-faced as ever as he heads towards the basement and the carnage I’ve left behind there.
“Is it done?” Kate asks the second I step into her office.
“It’s done,” I confirm, striding over to the drinks cabinet and pouring us each a two-fingered shot of bourbon, passing her a glass.
“Thanks.” She takes a sip, swirling the liquid as she stares at the screen on her computer.
“What’re you looking at?” I ask, stepping behind her and peering over her shoulder.
On the screen is footage of Ford training with us both in the ring this morning just like he has every morning for the past week. He bounces on the balls of his feet like a natural, protecting his face and dodging Kate’s jabs instinctively. Some people have to learn how to fight, and some are born to step into the ring. Ford is most definitely the latter.
“I’ve been watching our training sessions. He has a natural talent. I’ve never seen anything like it. When he grows into his body, I think he’ll be giving you a run for your money.”
“Not a fucking chance,” I reply with a dismissive snort. “The kid’s good, but he’s notthatgood.”
“But he will be after you’re done training him, right? You can’t always hold the crown.”
“I most certainly fucking can,” I reply, perching on the edge of the desk watching Kate as she studies the boy.
