Page 29 of Loathe Me (Touch of Death 1)
He tries to fight my hold. “You do not scare me. I will kill you.”
“Where is Enrique Bianchi?”
“You want Enrique?” He stops struggling. “Fuck you.” He spits on the floor.
I release an exasperated breath. I had hoped this would go easier, but I’ll ask one more time since I’m feeling generous. “Where is your boss?”
A hacking laugh barks out into the night, and my patience runs out. Clasping my hand over his mouth, I slam the heel of my boot into the side of his knee, hearing the bone crunch. A muffled cry is muted by my palm covering his lips. He crumples to the ground, his fingers clawing at the rough brick in an attempt to stay upright.
“Where is he?”
He sucks in several deep breaths, and his shoulders tense. Silence is all that follows. How disappointing. Grabbing one of his hands, I snap his index finger. This time he screams into my hand. He thinks himself strong because he is mafia. I can break him as easily as his bones. Taking the next finger, I snap it.
“I can break every bone in your body if you like.”
Ragged breaths hiss against the inside of my hand. I snap another finger, and he starts to sag against the wall. Adrenaline will take over in the face of extreme pain. It’s the body’s way of surviving just long enough to escape a predator or perceived danger. However, after a while, it fades, and the reality of the pain creeps in. I can almost see the moment his adrenaline burns off. His skin turns a waxy grey, and he starts to tremble. Blood covers his hands, shards of bone protruding through the skin of his fingers. This is where I often fail. I’m a killer, well versed in the art of torture, but it isn’t my forte. The breaking point differs for each person. There’s always a fine line, a point where he will tell you everything just to make it stop, but it has to be before he goes into shock. Push him too hard, and all is lost. It’s a balancing act, and Lucas here is about to go into shock.
“If you are of no use to me, I will slit your throat and leave you here to drown in your own blood.” I remove my hand from his mouth.
“I don’t know where he is,” he mumbles.
Gripping the back of his neck, I lean in closer, speaking in his ear. “Lies.” If that were true, he would have blurted it the second I broke his knee.
“I don’t. Please. Just…I can pay you.”
“Where. Is. He?” I say. I’m very much in control of my emotions, but I don’t have time for patience right now. I’m out in the open. Exposed. Anyone could walk right by and see us.
He inhales a breath. “I…he’ll kill me.”
“I’d take my chances if I were you.”
He releases a sharp sigh, wincing as he does. “He visits his club. Every Friday…Ten o’ clock…” His speech slurs, and he jolts as though he’s struggling to remain conscious.
“Where?”
“Finale. A private club…” His eyes close, and I shake him.
“What’s the club in Finale called?”
“Essenza.”
“Thank you, Lucas.”
I’m now left with a dilemma. If I let him go now, he could well run right back to Bianchi and warn him I’m coming. If I kill him, his absence will undoubtedly be noted, and it’ll raise an alarm.
“If you tell Enrique I’m coming, you’ll only delay my finding him. But I will find him, and before I do, I’ll make sure it gets back to him that you were so very helpful.” Through his pain, I see the flash of fear in his eyes. A rat in the mafia…they’ll make what I’ve done to him look like child’s play. I stroll away from the alleyway, leaving him groaning on the floor. Someone will find him, or he’ll call for help, but I’ll be long gone.
When I get back to the villa, all the lights are on. As soon as I open the door, the scent of food greets me. I find Adelina in the kitchen, stirring something in a pan. Checking my phone, I can see that the alarm didn’t go off. It should have.
“I told you not to leave your room.”
She turns around and places a hand on her hip. “I was hungry. You left and set the alarm. That’s a shitty move.”
“I had business to attend to. I needed you to stay here.”
“Doesn’t mean you have to lock me in like some kind of convict. There are these things called words. What if someone had tried to take me? Some protector you are.” She rambles on.
“The alarm is linked to my phone. I’d know if anyone broke in.” Or if she tried to leave…in theory.
Still, she could have run. She’s still here. “If you gave me a phone, you’d know, anyway.” She arches a brow and flicks her hair over her shoulder.
