AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Do you know who I am?”
He sneered. “A dead man.”
I laughed, thoroughly amused. “Ah, jokes.” Before he opened his mouth again, I drove my fist into his stomach. I stepped closer, so our faces were an inch apart, emptying my eyes of emotion. I hoped he saw how dead inside I could be while he struggled for breath. “I’m your judge, jury, and if needed, executioner.”
When he flinched, I hammered my fists into his face. He needed to be roughed up, but not too much. That would come later. I stepped back, and Max took my position. Enzo was behind him, holding up a phone over Max’s shoulder, recording what would come next. Max held Lauralee’s phone in front of Guido’s face, the video cued to play.
“What’s this?” Guido asked between split, bleeding lips.
“What you had Lauralee Martin killed for,” Max responded.
No one said a word as the video played. Guido and Ben’s voices were crystal clear as they went over the damning portion of their plan to overthrow his father and take over two empires. He’d been close to convincing Joey Tucci to arrange a marriage between himself and Joey’s daughter. There had to have been more steps to assume both thrones, but that wasn’t our problem—it was Leo Amato’s.
Guido roared when he heard how much had been recorded, the implication behind the evidence driven home even more in front of the current audience. When the video finished playing, Guido was pale and shaking.
“This proves nothing. You doctored the video. That’s not even my voice.”
Max snorted.
“If it wasn’t damning evidence”—I tensed, ready to lunge forward if need be—“you wouldn’t have wasted time hunting Summer.”
“If you value your life, you’ll admit to what you planned. Then he’ll go easier on you.” Max thumbed over Guido’s shoulder toward me.
I flashed a dark grin. “Please don’t make it easy. I’ve got all day and night to spend with you, persuading.”
“I’m not admitting to anything.” Guido spit.
Max shrugged then moved to the side, resting his shoulder against the wall. That was my cue. I crowded Guido, pinched his lip ring between my fingers, and yanked. He shuddered but didn’t say a word. Fresh blood ran down his chin. I pulled a knife, slicing the rope that held him. He fell to the ground, and I lifted him with one hand then tossed him into the chair bolted to the cement not far from where he’d been. He slammed into it.
“Oh”—I offered an exaggerated flinch—“my bad. That’ll bruise.”
Max handed me zip ties and shoved Guido back into the chair when he tried to get up.
I secured each arm and leg to the chair.
The door opened, and Trey walked in. I motioned him over. “Where?”
He pointed to a specific spot on Guido’s hand. I pulled out my gun and shot him once in each hand while he screamed and cursed me. “You’ll be useless to shoot a gun.”
It wasn’t that detrimental. In his position, he would have his men do the killing. I had more to do, but we needed to get a confession first.
Trey and I shifted so that Max could continue with the interrogation. Emiliana dragged over a bucket filled with water. In her hand was a saturated rag. “Get him on the ground.”
Max cut him loose, and I tossed him on the ground, holding his bloody hands above his head by his wrists while Max grabbed his ankles. Emiliana placed the wet rag over Guido’s nose and mouth then lifted the jug and poured a steady stream of water over the cloth. Guido thrashed in our tight grasp, water gurgling from his mouth, struggling hard enough that it was clear he thought he was drowning.
Emiliana shot me an amused glance. My training with the guys hadn’t only been in the ring. I’d experienced this too. It wasn’t as bad as some of the other things.
After Emiliana tilted the jug back, stopping the steady stream of water, Max and I turned him on his side. He choked and sputtered. We waited. Then the questions began, the recording going to catch what we needed him to confess.
“What did you order Ben to do?” Max demanded.
“Fuck you.”
Emiliana laughed. “Not the correct response. Flip him back over, boys.”
Once he was on his back again, Emliana slapped the rag over his nose and mouth once more then poured water over it. She went longer than last time. He thrashed wildly beneath our grip, choking and gurgling.
The process repeated three times, our questions the same: “What did you order Ben to do? Who would take the fall for your father’s death? What did you plan to gain once that happened?”
