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“I—I don’t know,” he whines, though we all know he’s lying as he side-eyes Renz. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that the man has brain damage considering the fact thatheis the one who attacked Renz only hours ago.
Eli barks out a maniacal laugh as he reaches forward and quite literally, bitch slaps the man. “Get it together you shit-stain! You should be embarrassed!” He throws his hands up and stomps away, as though he can’t bare to look at our prisoner anymore.
Renz, our ever-stoically faced brother, doesn’t join in Eli’s reaction as he continues to glare down at the man. I roll my eyes at both of them. This right here is why I’m in charge of prisoners.
“You know where you are,” I coo softly, my voice betraying the demon scraping at my insides in an attempt to get out. Eli may be a borderline serial killer when he disassociates but I’m the one who has the Devil in my soul. “You remember what you did, and you know what the consequences of that decision were, so let’s not pretend,” I tut, giving him a disapproving look.
Come closer little bug. Come join me in my web.
He tugs his lip into his mouth in a very childlike mannerism that is not befitting of his large stature. The man is unremarkable, at best, but he’s not small, I’ll give him that. He’s around 5’11 or 6’0 in height. Not fit but not overweight. His head is shaved, as were all of the other men the other night. He has no tattoos, piercings, no obvious body marking or scars. I would say it’s safe to assume that his fingerprints have been removed as well.
His face offers no notable features. His eyes are brown, his skin is white but with a slight tan, so his race is difficult to discern. His nose is thin and crooked in two places, clearly having been broken a few times. His lips are thin, his cheeks are gaunt and there are dark circles beneath his eyes.
The more I look at the man, the more I realize that though he has taken extreme measures to blend in, however, there are some things about him that aid with our search. By process of elimination, I’m able to confidently rule out that this man is not a mercenary. While they typically burn off their fingerprints and keep their distinguishing features to a minimum, he is not fit nor is he trained in interrogation survival tactics. That is basically Mercenary 101.
His body has not been branded or tattooed anywhere so that removes not only the Los Diablos but the Irish Mob as well. Orin’s father was a stickler for branding their family crest onto all of his warrior’s skin. From what I’ve seen the coat of arms with a Celtic cross is always above their hearts. Gus requires his men to have the Diablos sigil tattooed on their hips so they can flash it along with their weapons discretely. He has neither, so I can rule out both of them.
I’ve no idea if Diaz marks his men but, if he is recruiting dispensable nobodies, then…
“Fine,” he huffs, finally gaining some control of the waterworks. “I’m with the Cosa Nostra but you should know, this is pointless. I don’t know shit.”
Taking another step, he jerks when our knees brush and then begins to shake in earnest when he realizes that he has nowhere to go. “That’s just not true—” I break off, arching my brows expectantly.
Swallowing deeply, his eyes dart back and forth nervously as he whispers, “John.”
Chuckling, I nod in understanding. “Doe, is it?” John cringes, giving him away. He really is terrible at this. “Well,John,” I say, drawing his fake name out. “Even if it’s true that you don’t know much, you do know some things. Such as, who hired you.”
He begins to shake his head emphatically, but I ignore him. He’s a liar and a horrendous actor, we’ve already established that. “No, John. You are not going to lie to me anymore, do you understand me?” My voice takes on a harder edge, giving way to some of the violence aching to be released. But not all of it, not yet.
Come to me, trust me.
“I don’t know his name,” he says finally, after a lengthy pause. I smile reassuringly. Sometimes, they only need a little comfort and a friendly push over the edge of the cliff. Too bad he doesn’t realize what’s at the bottom of the fall. “He—he hired us, but we never met him face to face.”
“Who is we?” Renz snaps, advancing on the man. John immediately begins to cry again, and I have to swallow down the need to stab them both. I won’t of course. Not Renz at least, he is technically my boss, after all.
“Renz,” I sigh as I push him away. “Let me speak to our guest, yeah?” My cousin grunts and spins to join Eli wherever he’s fucked off to. Looking back at John, I cock my head to the side and smile softly. “Who iswe, John?”
His brows furrow in confusion as though I’m the idiot in the room. I don’t like that. Not one bit.
Not yet, Isaac. Keep your head.
“Well, the ones who took the job,” he says plainly with a shrug of his shoulders. I barely stifle a hiss of annoyance. It must translate to my face because he rushes to add, “There’s an app where you can pick up jobs. There is all sorts of shit on there, easy ways to make cash.” I spin the metal tool once more, in annoyance. “Some of the jobs are easier than others. Some are just like, listings with a description and the payout.”
“Description of what?” My voice comes out a sharp snap and I have to forcibly relax before I decapitate him.
“People,” he grunts. “Listings of people that other people want to buy. Sometimes it’s an exact request with all the person’s details, sometimes it’s just a general description of—” he swallows audibly, seeming to understand he’s treading on a thin line now. “A description of desired characteristics. Age, size, gender, hair, or skin color. Whatever they want, they put it in the listing with the price, deadline, and drop-off location, and whoever wants the job, picks it up and then..”
“Goes hunting,” I supply. I’ve heard of such operations, commonly used in human trafficking. It’s essentially a fucking shopping list for sick and depraved people. If a druggie, or some lowlife short on cash, wants to make a quick buck, they pick up a job off these sites or apps. Then, they go in search of a person, often children and women, who meet the description of the desired appearance, take them and deliver them.
Two things become glaringly apparent then. This sick fuck needs to die for the sheer fact that he’s been on this app taking dirty jobs and Renz is on the app as a listing.
“What does his listing say?” I jut my chin in the general direction Renz had disappeared to. Somehow, this question makes John pale even further, until he becomes damn near translucent. His forehead breaks out into a sweat despite the freezing cold temperature and my blood begins to boil. Whatever he’s about to say, is going to truly piss me off, I just know it.
Lure him in. Do not waste this opportunity.
“He—” John licks his dry lips and stutters as he continues, “It’s not just him. It’s all of you. Biggest price I’ve ever seen on a kill order.” I gesture for him to continue, eager to hear our value. “Quarter of a million,each.”
I freeze, my entire body shuddering as though I’m a computer in the midst of a reboot. Eli barks out a loud, hysterical laugh that has my brain coming back online. I admit, I barely contain the peals of laughter building inside of me, but I force them down in favor of finishing my task.
