Page 124 of The Silencer

God, that was uncalled for. I mean, really.

My eyes sting and grow wet, the pain sliding up my cheek and down my neck. I breathe deeply through my nose and blink wildly to keep my tears at bay.

After a few seconds, I finally manage to turn my gaze back up to the man and narrow my eyes.

Fuck you, I think, trying to remain calm. I haven’t managed to do it successfully yet, but I can redeem myself. I can prove that I’m strong. Stronger than they think.

“Oh, so the little slut thinks he’s brave? You think you’re a big man, now?” the man says, leaning toward me and grinning wryly. “I promise you won’t be. Not when I’m done with you.”

I roll my eyes, and he lets out a dark laugh.

I swallow as his grimy hands grab on to my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Have some respect, boy. Do you know who I am?”

His fingernails bite into my skin, and I try and wrench my head away, but he won’t let go.

“I’m Douglas Kennedy. Yours truly.”

I don’t know who the fuck that is, and he must know this because he grins wide. “I run the Fallen Aces. It’s you I have to thank for all the closures and arrests that have been made against me, I’m sure. You’ve been pulling the strings.”

I pull zero strings when it comes to Anthony, but for some reason, he seems to think I have that kind of power.

“You’re the reason I lost twenty men in that bar up on Creek Road. But then again, you sure are pretty,” he says with a dark laugh.

I try and wrench my face away once more, but he keeps it turned toward him, my jaw aching from the hold he has on me.

A flash of metal appears from his pocket and he holds a knife up to my lips. “You know, your man is called The Silencer, right? He loves to take the tongues out of people’s mouths. Perhaps we could send yours home to him. Let him know what he’ll be missing.”

I writhe in the chair, trying to kick my legs out. But they only tie them down, rendering me unable to move.

The knife pricks the skin of my cheek, and I feel my eyes widen. They won’t really cut out my tongue, right?

“He’s scared. Good. Send Anthony a picture. Show him what his little pet has been up to.”

I glower at him, trying to look unafraid when the flash goes off.

God, Anthony is going to lose it when he sees this. Oh fuck.

He better not get hurt because of this. Because of me. I’d rather die.

“Shit. My finger was over the lens,” the man with the phone says, and Douglas groans.

“Take the picture right the first time, you piece of shit.”

“Yeah, okay, sorry. I got thick fingers. Can’t help it.”

Another flash and this time, I most likely look confused. Which I am. Apparently Douglas hasn’t employed the smartest people. Which is an advantage Anthony has over him. At least the people in his employ are smart, cunning even.

“He’s gonna be so angry,” a big man says, his head disproportionately smaller than his body. I wish I could tell him that, that he looks like a grape on top of a basketball. But I can’t. My mouth is still gagged. But if I could, I would. I’d sneer and mock him relentlessly.

“He will be. And then maybe he’ll give me what I want.”

Grape-head glances at him and asks dumbly, “And what do we want, Boss?”

Douglas sighs, putting the knife away and pinching his nose. “We want his shipping ports and we want the cocaine.”

“Yeah, that’s right. I remember now.”

Douglas’s jaw clenches and he glances down as he grabs a pair of garden shears.

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