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“Bullshit.” There’s only one man left in his circle that hasn’t spilled blood, and I bring the count down to zero before his next blink. All of the men sitting or surrounding their boss have now paid for his greed. They groan, some trembling where they stand at the ready to die for Flavio. Admirable, but he’s not deserving of their loyalty. “But I’m going to let it slide…” Flavio exhales roughly while the man now on the floor cries out in pain “…for now.”
“I swear it’s the truth.”
“And I don’t give a flying fuck either way.”
“Callum, Casper…this hostility between us isn’t necessary. I can talk to Rubens; we can all prosper from my alliance. Think about it.”
“There’s nothing for me to think about, Gaspar.” Sitting forward, I level him with a hard stare. He’s sweating; the fear pours out of him. “You will stop whatever it is that you have with Rubens and Martin. No more meetings. No more threats.”
“Listen, Callum. I don’t know what the problem is, but you can’t—”
“I can and will.” Lifting my right hand, I empty every bullet left in the wall just two inches from Flavio’s head. The gun in my left hand still has ammo, and he sees the intent. The next time my Ruger discharges, the target is his skull. “The next time I visit over this, I’m going to burn you each alive and then feed your cooked meat to my pet; I’ll ship him over from his cushy home in one of my London properties just for this meal. This is your only warning, Flavio. Stay away from the Rubens and Martin family. All of them. Understood?”
He nods. “Yes.”
“Any Gaspar found to be trespassing my order will be put down. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t speak to their families, employees, or the person who makes their coffee at the local deli. Not so much as a bloody nod in their direction.” My eyes shift to all the men one by one, not moving onto the next until they nod. “Heed my warning. I won’t hesitate to kill you.”
17
“We deserve a gold medal after the last few days,” I say, sighing as the warm water of the pedicure bowl pulses with massaging jets. We’re in pamper mode today—activated and unreachable while taking a much-needed break. It’s been a week now since both men left, since my father canceled my trip again—no notice or explanation, just a text telling me to hold off until further notice. It’s also been seven days since all hell broke loose and we got an influx of women that left us scrambling to accommodate and protect, leaving me no time to wonder why the sudden change in plans.
Two of the new residents had a drug addiction, while the other three were running from abusive men that had no qualms about threatening us, but one took it the extra mile. That one didn’t care, charging in with a weapon drawn while trying to intimidate by looking to hurt us or the building his ex was seeking sanctuary inside of.
The visit lasted a few minutes at the most, tense seconds where Aurora pulled out her gun while I doused his face with pepper spray before he could shoot, or worse.
“Bring her out,” the man screams; a tall jerk with twitchy movements and the nauseating scent of garbage all around him. He’s unkempt. His expression is of pure rage while holding an old pistol in his grip. Arm down and shaking, he stormed inside, scaring the two assistants helping with the dietary changes needed for a seven-year-old with a peanut allergy. “Where is my wife?”
“Sir, you need to put your weapon away, or we will be obligated to call the police.” Aurora moves in front of the two shaking women while I gently push them toward the office. We’ve gone over drills with the staff and those who live here, practice these at least once a month, but when fear kicks in, you can’t predict how a person will react. “Put it away, and we’ll go to my office and speak calmly—”
“Shut the fuck up, bitch. Bring me my wife, or I’ll shoot every single one of you.”
“Last warning,” Aurora says, tone neutral while her hand opens the drawer of the desk right beside her. The man looks down at it, but before he can see her reach for her weapon, I push a high stack of papers onto the ground; it flutters in the space between us and him. It’s just enough of a distraction for Aurora to grab her gun and aim at his chest, while the other women lock the door to her office. “You didn’t listen. This is private property, and I want you out.”
“I’m not leaving without her. I’d rather burn this entire place to the ground.”
“Get out,” I hiss, while Aurora clicks the safety off. The man’s eyes flash with fear, but soon that’s gone. That miniscule second reasserts his careless way of thinking, and it also gives me a chance to pull out the pepper spray I keep on myself, finger ready to dress down.
“No.” He takes a step forward in my direction, but I’m already spraying. I empty the bottle, focusing on his left eye that is partially uncovered through spread fingers, and then step back.
“You whore!” the man screams, stumbling back and falling as the papers cause him to slide. His body crashes hard, the gun slipping out of his hand and ending against the opposite wall. “The fuck is this shit? It burns!”
“That was a warning, sir. Get up, and get out.” No sooner do those words pass through Aurora’s lips than we hear police sirens. They are close. The office is at the front of the compound, not far from the parking lot and main road. The closer they get, the more he panics and scrambles to get up, only to fall once more, hitting his face this time as he’s having a hard time keeping his eyes open. “And we will be pressing charges. See you in court.”
With difficulty, he pushes himself up and stands. He’s facing us, but not really focused. “I’ll be back. This isn’t the end, and my slut of a wife will pay for this.”
After that, he left, body stumbling into the wall beside the door before managing to exit, still screaming, insulting us, and then not a single trace left for the cops to find.
None of our cameras caught sight of him past the front door. He disappeared.
No blood. No body. Nada.
These occurrences aren’t really the norm with us. Most men don’t want cops involved or looking their way and approach the women in a softer manner. Some fall for the fake repentance, some don’t, but we defend ourselves either way. This also makes me think that Aurora’s still being watched.
Or is it me?
