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Slowly he stirs, his breathing ragged. “Mr. Torrio, please…” His voice is thick, and his speech is slightly slurred due to the missing teeth he has now. The gash I left on his lower lip hasn’t healed well, either. Looks like it might have become infected, and the sight pleases me more than it should.
“I didn’t give you permission to speak.” What do I do with this pathetic wreck? I can’t trust him to keep his mouth shut any more than I could trust him to keep his dick in his pants and away from women.
“I, for one, would like to know what he has to say.” Romero removes his suit jacket and drapes it over the back of another chair, then begins rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.
“I still don’t understand why I’m here. Why are you doing this to me?” Kristoff’s dark, bloodshot eyes dart back and forth between us. “Please, someone explain to me what happened because I only know you think I did something to earn this.”
Finally, his gaze lands on me and stays there. “You can’t keep me here forever. My father will come looking for me, especially when you have me here for no reason.”
“Don’t fuck with me.” His head snaps back in the wake of my snarl. “You know what you did. Every fucking time you chose to hurt my daughter, you earned another few hours in hell. Pissing and shitting in a bucket, bleeding and bruised. You put yourself in this very fucking place, so don’t sit here and play the victim.”
“What? What did I do to her?” Fresh sweat beads on his ashen skin.
“Listen to this,” Romero sighs. His irritation is getting the best of him. “I figured he’d be smarter.”
“I didn’t,” I grumble. I hope this isn’t his defense. Feigning ignorance? He’s had a week to figure this out. Couldn’t he come up with anything better?
“Honestly, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s the tears swimming in his eyes that turn my bitterness to rage. He has the nerve to cry after what he’s done. To make himself a victim. “I love Tatum. I–”
A backhand from me silences him, at least for a moment. He’s not intelligent enough to keep his mouth shut permanently. “Don’t you dare say that again,” I warn. “Not ever. I know what you did. She told me everything.”
“What are you talking about?” he manages to get the words out once he lifts his head. His cheek glows red now, in contrast to his sickly complexion. “What did she tell you? I didn’t do anything to her.”
“She showed us the bruises.” Romero’s fists are clenched at his sides, his chest heaving. Each breath becomes heavier than the last. We’ve done this together numerous times, but there’s something different about Kristoff. A personal edge to it. “She showed us what you did and told us about the rest. About the way you forced her… how you fucking raped her. At this point, you should be thankful you’re even alive!”
“What?” He suddenly sounds a lot sharper, clearer. “I didn’t. I would never do that.”
“If you didn’t do those things, then what you’re saying is she lied to us, right?” I demand, grabbing a handful of greasy hair and pulling his head back until we’re eye-to-eye. “That’s what you’re telling me? That she’s lying. That her having a mental breakdown in my arms had nothing to do with you? Her constant nightmares? That the reason she’s been a shell of her former self had nothing to do with you? Men like you are pathetic, and if you haven’t used your pea-sized brain yet and put the puzzle together, that’s why you’re here, you miserable piece of shit. Now stop wasting the last few minutes of your life lying.”
“The last…” Tears spill over his lashes and pour down his cheeks. “No. No, you can’t. Please, I don’t deserve this! You can’t kill me, please! I’ll do anything!”
“I’m sure you would promise me anything if it meant keeping your pathetic life,” I observe. The Glock in my waistband practically burns my skin; I’m so eager to wrap my hand around the butt and pull it free. This could all be over so quickly. I’d never have to hear his lies again.
“My father…” His breathing is quick, erratic. “He’s going to find out, and it’ll mean trouble for you. You’re screwing yourself by doing this.”
“Is that supposed to frighten me?” I ask on a sigh.
“I… I don’t know what she told you.” Wracking sobs consume his entire frame as he shakes from head to toe. “It’s possible that there was a misunderstanding, and if so, I’ll take responsibility for my part. I know I was drinking too much while we were on the trip. I tried some drugs. Honestly I didn’t know what I was doing!”
