Page 11 of The Devil In Disguise

Bummer.

My distinct whistle announces my arrival and draws all heads in the room to me. Dario claps his hands and howls, “Now the real fun begins.”

“Where is Luciano?”

“Who knows? All I know is he won’t be here until after the doors open, so they are all ours.” He hikes a thumb over his shoulder to the restrained men, each wearing a stoic guise. Let's see how long that lasts.

Without bothering to use any special devices, I tower over one of the men with Dario following suit beside me.

“Who paid you to misplace the newest shipment?” The man facing me doesn’t falter. His friend is a different story, though.

In my periphery I see his lip twitch. Not a second after, Dario is plunging a knife into his thigh and twisting it. Over the years I learned not to question Dario. He is the most unhinged one out of all of us, and that’s saying a lot. He once walked into a room empty-handed and pulled out a saw. Don’t ask me where the fuck he got that from.

“You won’t even flinch when your friend here cries in your ear?” I shake my head condescendingly. “Should’ve directed that loyalty to us.” Both of their hands and feet are tied together and there’s a rope strapping them to the chair by their chest.

In my next breath I’m behind him, picking a random finger and bending it past the point of breaking. His loud whimpers seem to spur Dario on. He instructs one of the soldiers to lift up the man's shirt and that demented glint in his eye gives him away—to me at least.

“One of you are gonna answer, one way or another,” Dario laughs. Removing his knife from the man's thigh, he wipes it clean on the opposite thigh and begins slicing into the man’s stomach, deep enough for him to feel the pain, but not deep enough for it to be fatal. He watched a documentary on lingchi when he was twelve and has been obsessed ever since.

Both men are now babbling incoherently, the man before me only having two fingers left that aren’t broken. But neither has said a name—that’s all I care about. Blood-curdling screams ricochet off the walls and echo back at them.

Searching the room my eyes land on a bucket near the sink in the opposite corner of the room. Dario follows my line of vision and smirks, turning to the man with broken fingers. “Your turn,” he says in a sing-song voice, proceeding to slice him up while I leave to fill the bucket with water.

Two rags drop in the bucket. On my way back to the men, I signal the two soldiers to drop the guys on the floor. They cut the ropes holding them in place and pin them to the ground.

Passing Dario a rag, I place the bucket between us and take my rag out, holding it over the man's face. I pour some water over his covered face, then pass the bucket to Dario before removing the rag.

“Are you ready to cough up a name?” I ask as he struggles to catch his breath. He gives no indication he’ll give me the answer I want yet, so I continue to pour the water over his covered face intermittently. They will experience the burning sensation of drowning, without any actual drowning, until I get a name.

It didn’t take long before Dario's guy tapped out first and gave us the name.

“I-it was Gabriel,” he managed to choke out. I raise a brow at Dario and he shrugs. We cover their faces one more time and leave them to the soldiers.

“Not bad, boss.” Dario claps me on the shoulder and jogs up the stairs ahead of me. That kid has too much energy.

Boss. I’m the underboss now, but soon enough I will be king of New York. I don’t even know how I got here.

Time doesn’t exist underground. When I walk back into the main room, the club is in full swing. Colorful flashing lights, bass vibrating the walls, and glow-in-the-dark paint on people’s clothes or bodies makes up the room. There are four elevated stripper poles in each corner, all currently occupied with their own small crowd. The DJ booth is set up against the center of the back wall, overlooking the rest of the room.

Dario and I slip through the throng of glowing, sweaty bodies and set out for the bar. I’m halfway through my second round when a curvy, blonde girl passes by us. Dario sets his sights on her, leaving me in the corner alone. From here I’m able to observe everyone on the dance floor moving freely. I take the last swig of my drink and stand to leave.

As I’m walking, a tall, curly-headed brunette distractedly bumps into me while talking to her friend. An apology is flying out her mouth until she gets a good look at my face and unabashedly checks me out. She lightly grabs my forearm and leans in so I can hear her better.

“I am sorry, but I don’t regret running into you. How about you let me make it up to you? I can buy you a drink.”

Olive-green eyes fix me with a hopeful countenance and my attention drops to her full, glossy lips that chew on her bottom lip. I take in her short, gray dress and matching heels before leisurely bringing my eyes back to hers.

It’s not like I have anywhere else I need to be.

“How about we skip that drink and you let me show you what a good time really is?” My deep voice tempts in her ear.

She turns to her friend to let her know she’ll meet back up with her later, then turns back to me. “I’m all yours,” she says, smiling up at me. I take her hand and guide her to one of the private rooms we have in the back.

Chapter 6

Today is my first day off since I moved back in with my parents. Dad was out the door before I woke up, but he should be coming back home early today. I hope things aren’t awkward between us considering we haven’t really talked much since I’ve been back.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me to the grocery store?” Mama asks me for the third time today.

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