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“Now,” Angelo continues, moving down the line. “Let’s try that again.”
He rips the gag from the second man, who is cowering in fear, sweat dripping down his face, a sniveling mess. Angelo leans in closer. “I should shoot you for being such a fucking disgrace,” he growls. “Or maybe I should let Rocco determine how you die. How many bones does the human body have again, Roc?”
“Two hundred and six,” Rocco replies.
“That sounds like a lot. I learned something one time that I thought was fascinating…” Angelo says lightly, running the gun down the man's face. “The penis has no bones at all… so it can be sliced very easily, like a knife through butter, right, Roc?”
“You got it, boss. Shall I sharpen the blade?”
Angelo smiles. “No need. I’m sure he’s not stupid enough to think that we’re bluffing.” He turns to look at the corpse to his left. “This guy looks pretty dead to me.”
“I don’t know anything,” the man spits.
“Now, that just isn’t true,” Angelo replies, circling him once more. “Fynn?”
My head snaps up. “Angelo.”
“Why don’t you show our friend here how well you swing? I think we could make some improvements to his face before he loses his cock.”
The man squirms as I step forward. I roll up my sleeves and look at Angelo. “You always ruin your best suits,” I say in a low voice. “Gotta wear old shit.”
He smirks.
Just because I wore my old jeans and sneakers, along with a black collared shirt I don’t care if I ruin, doesn’t make me want to get blood all over them, but it’s a necessary evil. Angelo and Marco, they don’t leave the house unless they’re dressed in a three-piece. Marco probably sleeps in one.
I turn my attention back to the man and swing, socking him in the face before he even knows what’s hit him. If I wanted blood all over me, I’d break his nose, but I’ll save that for later. Going for a body shot, I hit him hard in the kidneys, and he coughs up blood a few moments later.
Satisfied, I cup his chin, bringing his face to mine. “I may look like a pretty boy, but I hit like a motherfucker.” I punch him again in exactly the same spot until he’s gasping.
“Windpipe,” Angelo says. “Put him to sleep.”
“Wait!” he gasps…
I hold his chin once more, squeezing it tighter as his eyes meet Angelo’s.
“Speak!” I shake him.
“There’s a guy, comes into the club… a suit…”
“So fucking what?” I shake him again.
“He’s a lawyer… I think…”
I turn to Angelo. “He doesn’t know shit.”
“No wait, I do! I do!”
“You’ve got three seconds.” I move from my stance and pull his pants down. “Or else I’m gonna do some slicing.”
“Rodriguez!” he screams.
I turn to look at Darko. “Ring a bell?”
He shakes his head.
“Enzo will find him,” Marco says, then to the quivering man in front of me, he adds, “If you’re lying…”
“I’m not! He comes to the bar sometimes, but he never does business there. I don’t know what his role is, just that he’s someone important.”
