Page 6 of Finding Gwen

Chapter Four

Anthony

“Did you seriously think you could get away with it? That you could touch a woman without her consent and there wouldn’t be consequences? Just because she didn’t file charges doesn’t mean we don’t have all the fucking details.” Jason was angry. He had been using this man as a punching bag for the last fifteen minutes. But Mr. Dickhead here still wouldn’t admit what he did.

His girlfriend was currently admitted to the hospital with a concussion and several broken ribs. When we had been called in, it was because of the suspected sexual abuse she had received. She had let us take her statement, informing us her boyfriend was actually the one responsible, but ended up not wanting to press charges. That didn’t matter, though. We had gotten everything we needed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man snarled. They always snarled.

“Come on, man. Tell us what we want to hear and we’ll cut you a deal.” I straightened up from my place against the door frame. It was our routine, after all. Jason played bad cop, got them sweating. I played good cop, telling them we would make a deal. We had been doing this longer than I could remember.

“Fuck. You.” He spat at Jason and I sighed. That would push him past his breaking point.

In a blur, Jason had a knife sticking out of the dude’s shoulder. His screams filled the warehouse room we were in and oscurità mia got excited. Time to play. Jason stepped to the side, giving me a turn to torture the asshole. I walked up to the man, twisting the knife sticking out of his shoulder and pushing it in further.

“Fuck, man. Stop! Please—”

“Too late,” I cut him off. “Did she ask you to stop? Did she say please? Did you fucking listen?” I pulled my own knife out from my belt, the knife my father gave to me when I was old enough to learn how to wield it. The handle was wrapped in leather that was worn and blood-stained, but the blade was sharp. It had to be, after all, in order to teach these fuckers a lesson.

Without hesitation, I stabbed my knife into his hand, embedding the tip into the wood underneath. Leaving it there, I took several steps back so Jason could land another punch to the man’s ribs, cutting off the line of expletives coming out of his mouth. By this point, there was no way this asshole didn’t have a broken rib or two of his own. He coughed up blood, confirming my suspicions, and I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face as he groaned.

Jason leaned in close to the fucker so he was inches away from his face. “Here’s the thing, Mr. Williams. Whether you admit to it or not, we still know what you did. It stops today. You won’t be laying another hand on any woman, least of all your girlfriend.” At the mention of his name, it was like a switch had flipped. It was easy for this asshole to pretend like he didn’t know what we were talking about when he thought we didn’t actually know anything. Calling him by his name and mentioning his girlfriend, we showed him we knew everything.

“That bitch got what she deserved.” His demeanor changed, no longer pretending to be innocent.

Jason pulled his knife from the fucker’s shoulder, then moved so he was standing behind him, fisting his hair to yank his head back. “She deserved a concussion and broken ribs?”

“She deserved a lot more than that. You should’ve seen the things that woman was sending me all day. Then I get home, and it’s like she’s not even the same person. She’s a fucking tease.” Every word this man said made me sick. He treated women like objects, only good for sex and nothing else. “You can’t blame a man for getting pissed when he’s been hard as a rock all day. If she didn’t want me to stick my dick in her pussy, the least she could have done was use her mouth to get me off instead of constantly nagging me. That woman doesn’t know when to shut up. Doesn’t matter.” I saw a smile threatening his lips. “She’ll think twice before saying no again. I made sure—”

Jason had heard enough, his darkness showing as he touched his knife to this fucker’s throat, effectively silencing him. If Jason hadn’t, I would have. This dude had officially pissed me off. Walking up, I pulled my knife from his hand, my own darkness smiling from the involuntary grunt that came from him. “She won’t be saying anything to you ever again. Because you aren’t going anywhere near her with your dick ever again.”

“And what makes you so sure of that?”

I answered his question by shoving my knife in between his legs, aiming for his dick. The scream that escaped him was blood-curdling, letting me know I had hit my mark. “That’s how.” I met Jason’s gaze as he continued holding onto the asshole’s head, but pulling back his knife slightly as the dude thrashed in his chair. Jason didn’t want him accidentally cutting his own throat, essentially putting himself out of the misery he was currently experiencing.

It was only a couple more seconds before he passed out, his body going limp. Pulling my knife from his body, I wiped it off with one of the bloody towels nearby, inspecting it for any damage. Jason released his head, shoving it forward, so it was hanging down. His bleeding dick would be the first thing he saw when he came to.

Walking back around the chair, Jason looked down at the asshole before turning to me. “Honestly, Tony, why do you have to cut our fun short every single time?”

“If I had to listen to one more word come out of that fucker’s mouth, I was going to shove my knife into his heart. At least I made him suffer instead.” Shrugging my shoulders, I put my knife back on my belt, giving my clothes a once over. Not finding any evidence of the last hour on me, I looked to Jason, who was watching me with consideration, and I could tell he wanted to say something. “What?”

“How’s Ollie?” Jason finally asked.

“You mean the sweetest boy to have ever been born, who is stuck with me as a father?” I sighed, letting the pent up frustration leave my body. “Surprisingly, okay. I didn’t know what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t this. I feel like I’m constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.” I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest, and stared at the asshole slumped over in his chair, thinking about what would come next.

“What about her?” Jason knew I hated hearing her name–Kimberly. My ex-wife and Oliver’s mom, was a piece of work. He came to stand next to me, both of us used to the wait when they passed out.

“Still haven’t heard a peep. I have no idea where she is, but wherever it is, she can stay there. After everything she put Oliver and me through…” I trailed off, not wanting to think about the past right now.

“How’s the search for stable childcare going? Didn’t your neighbor Katie have her baby?” Jason quickly changed the subject, and I released yet another frustrated sigh.

“Yeah, Katie’s little girl is almost one now, I think. I know between that and watching Oliver, she’s gotta be exhausted. She’d never tell me, though. She and her husband both give me those looks of pity whenever we cross paths.” I chuckled, thinking about how they’d look at me if they knew what I actually did with my evenings.

In all reality, this was what Jason did most evenings. When he first brought me to the warehouse, I didn’t know what to expect. Standing in the middle of the concrete room with nothing but a single lightbulb and a chair, he explained how much the system disgusted him. That abusers and rapists got away with truly horrible things all because they were feared. He wanted them to understand what it felt like to know true fear. Of course, I didn’t know about his extracurricular activities when he first became my partner after having just ended an undercover assignment. He was good about keeping this side of him a secret.

After I had left Kimberly, he saw something inside of me grow, the darkness that I had always tried to keep hidden for my family’s sake. My mom used to call it oscurità mia. She would tell me stories about how my father once had his own and how much it controlled his life. When I was old enough to understand, I learned the story of how she had wanted a better life for me, convincing my father to move from Italy to the States before I was born and cutting ties with the syndicate. It had been hard, but they were happy. They made sure I went to the best schools and learned about my heritage, including the language. I was never fluent, but I knew enough to get by.

Ultimately, I was grateful my parents made the tough choice to leave everything behind. But in those organizations, you don’t get to just walk away. The day before my nineteenth birthday, my parents paid for our departure from Italy. My mother was assaulted over and over while my dad was tortured. I had been forced to watch it all. Maybe that’s why I became a cop in the first place.

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