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Dom turns and grins at his men.
“Have any of you ever come across shit like this before?”
“I have.”
The detective snaps his head to the side as a man steps forward who could probably wrestle a bear and his disgusted gaze falls on the detective as he growls. “I heard about them when I was in special ops.”
For the first time, I note the detective appears less confident as the man carries on.
“One of the guys spoke about it on a stakeout one night. We had shit else to do, and he told me they had been briefed about an organization of powerful figures in local communities forming some kind of ancient club. They work together to protect their interests and operate above the law, mainly because most of the people responsible for that are in the fucking club themselves.”
“So it goes further than Vegas, then.”
Dom addresses the man as if they’re having a conversation over a couple of beers and he nods.
“The soldier told me they were under orders to storm one of their meetings. To shoot on sight and take the ringleader out. They were in position, somewhere in Texas, and at the last minute they were told to stand down.”
“Interesting.”
The detective openly laughs.
“Even then, the Lords found out about it and protected themselves. What makes you think a fucking low life mafia soldier can win against the power that the Dark Lords enjoy? You’re a fool, Domenico and that will be the death of you and…” His gaze flicks over to me and he says with derision. “And all because of a hot, wet pussy. You’re pathetic.”
As he speaks, I notice the expression on Dom’s face change in a heartbeat. From easy going interest to murderous intent and I catch my breath as he reaches for the dagger that is lying beside the altar and holds it flush against the detective’s heart, causing him to break out into an immediate sweat. As he presses the blade in deep enough to cause the detective to cry out in pain, he growls, “Then let’s find out how pathetic I can be.”
CHAPTER42
DOM
The most important thing right now is to drag answers out of a dying man. It’s interesting to test a man’s limits, and the detective is stronger than most. Despite inflicting the same method he tried on Flora, he remains tight-lipped and, as I stare down at his body, bearing several marks from the same hot poker he used on Flora, I’m impressed by his resilience. He now bears scars courtesy of the same blade he rested against her heart and the resignation in his pain-filled eyes is impressive as I hold the knife against his own twisted heart. The air is thick with anticipation as I hold it close to his skin and whisper, “Last chance, detective. If you only tell me one thing, tell me Mario Bachini’s involvement in your organization.”
He glares up at me and with a small smile twisted with pain, whispers with a ragged breath. “Go to hell.”
I step back and throw the blade to the ground and sneer.
“Say hi to the Devil because you’re heading there first.”
Turning, I see Flora watching with a fascination that makes me smile and I reach for her hand and whisper, “I’m taking you home.”
As her soft hand closes around mine, I say to Pasquale, “Have you checked the building?”
“Clear.”
I sigh with exasperation.
“Our work here is done. Torch the place, making sure nothing can be identified and all that’s left is the smoldering tomb of a man who burned alive for his sins.”
As I make to leave, the detective cries out, “Wait, you can’t leave me here. At least finish the job, you fucking coward.”
I keep on walking.
“You’re a fucking joke. I heard you were a killer. A man who took no prisoners, but you’re a coward. You can’t even bring yourself to kill the man who hurt your whore.”
Flora shivers beside me and I fight the red mist away that’s threatening to blow my cool and then I hear, “Stop. I’ll give you names.”
I stop.
I turn.
