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Deciding to leave him to it, I moved softly on the balls of my feet and glided up the stairs like a phantom and right into Murphy’s room. The fucker laid on his back, mouth hung open, nose to the ceiling snoring louder than thunder. How his wife slept next to him, I had no idea. When Killian filed in behind me, I nodded my head toward the missus and he seemed to just read my mind, stalking towards her and drawing his gun.
I pulled mine too and placed it right between Murphy’s eyes, right on the bridge of his bony nose that had a little lump on it, probably from breaking it. The slight amount of pressure I pushed onto it, was enough to have him waking with a pained gasp. Brown eyes grew wild when he saw me. Bringing a finger to my lips, I hushed him and then flicked my gaze toward Killian. Following my line of sight, tears sprung to his eyes when he saw him pointing a gun at his gracefully sleeping wife.
Flicking my wrist, I indicated for him to get up from the bed and he followed my silent demand with ease. I turned my nose up in disgust and how weak he looked right now.
If a tear fell, I’d fucking blind him.
Leading him out of the room, I directed him out into his garage and when Killian shut the door behind us, I cracked Murphy across the back of the head with the butt of my gun. “Got something for me, Murph?” I asked casually as he staggered forward with a grunt. Flexing my neck, I popped my shoulder and rested back against his steel toolbox. One of those industrial ones that stacked on top of one another and lined the wall. I kicked one foot over the other as I watched him fall to his knees and allowed silence to fall.
“Don’t get up,” I told him, allowing him to turn so he was facing me, but not standing back to his feet. Resting the gun against my thigh, my other hand toyed with the end of something pointed on top of the worktop. I wanted him to look up at me from where he rested at my feet like a peasant. To see the power he decided to underestimate. “I don’t like it when payments are missed. So why did you think it was acceptable not to make one?”
For a moment, he just stared at me dazed. It was like he was warring with himself, trying to determine how afraid he should be of me. I noticed it the second he decided to try his hand at bravery. When he opened his mouth—no doubt to offer something smug and smart—I lunged forward with skilled grace. I shoved the barrel of my gun into his mouth, down his throat until he gagged, then stabbed him in the eye with whatever it was I was playing with from the side.
When it protruded from his head, I noticed it was a screwdriver.
“Shh, shh,” I hummed gently while I cradled the back of his head, shoving him deeper onto the end of sharp, sharp steel. “I’d think before you speak to me with anything less than respect, Murph. And I’d definitely think before you try to lie to me.”
He tried to scream, but it was muffled and instead, he gagged around the barrel. I pulled it out just in time for him to throw up that night’s dinner all over the ground. Huge chunks of it painted the padded tiles and I frowned. I’d cleared the space before any splashed back at me and took up my position leaning against the toolbox. “So let’s try this again, shall we?”
“Y-you crazy cunt!”
“Wouldn’t call that respect now, would you, Killian?”
My deadly guard just shook his head, not that Murphy could see it since I stabbed him through the eye on the side Killian stood.
“Didn’t think so.” I stepped forward again—around the puke—and closer to Murphy who scurried back like a rat in a hot tin can.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry!”
I didn’t want his apologies, but I so enjoyed his terror.
“My money, where it is?” I asked one last time, sounding bored.
“The ki- kitchen. It’s in the kitchen.” Sobbing, he pointed with his hands toward the door we had not long walked through. His hands were clasped together as if he was in the middle of prayer. I didn’t know if he was religious, but I knew no gods were coming to save him.
“Where?” I asked.
“In with Floppy’s ashes.”
“Floppy?”
“Our dog,” he cried and I narrowed my eyes in disgust.
“You keep your dead dog in the kitchen?”
“Mealtime was always his favorite.”
Shaking my head, I instructed Killian to go and check. When he returned seconds later with a hefty envelope, my suspicions were confirmed. “You had the money, so why not bring it to me?”
He couldn’t look at me, instead, he kept his overflowing gaze on the tips of my sock-covered toes. I cocked my gun and pointed it at his head.
“Okay, okay! I thought you were a push over, alright? I thought you were weak and wouldn’t do shit if I skipped out on paying you back. I never expected you to come here and get your hands dirty.”
“I think bloody is the word you’re looking for,” I tell him absently, the anger inside of me rising.
It wasn’t like I didn’t know why he, out of all of my clients, was the only one not to pay back what he owed. Everyone else had sense and value for their lives, this fucker clearly didn’t. I already knew what I would do next, but I wanted him to stew on it.
It would only benefit me if he lived. He’d be a breathing mutilation of what would happen if you crossed me, so that was a win. But still, a lost eye wasn’t all this bastard would be getting tonight. I turned and ran my soft hands over the other tools that lined the wall. When they brushed against a rusty pair of sheers, I pulled them from their hook and walked back toward him. “I don’t like thieves, Murphy.” He fell backward, his hand slicked with blood as he tripped over his own essence that refused to give him the platform he needed to keep himself upright. “I especially don’t like sexists.”
