Page 37 of The Taker

“Hmmm, maybe. Let’s see how this date pans out,” I sass him, mostly because I don’t know what to make of this version of Rocco. The cold, mafia boss and the sexually dominant versions I can handle…but a sweet, dare I say romantic, version of Rocco is another thing entirely.

“This is going to be the best date you’ve ever had. You’ll see,” he promises me.

That won’t be a hard feat, because I’ve never been on a real date before. Unless random hookups count, which they probably don’t.

He slaps my ass, then picks up a studded baseball bat. “Milo makes these you know. I was so jealous of Elio’s that I had to have one made for me. Isn’t it divine? It’s all the rage for torturers, murderers, and criminals alike,” he announces to the room at large. “Unfortunately for you two dumb fucks, it’s gonna hurt. Tell them why, Piero!”

“Because we know who sent you, so we don’t have to keep you alive for information,” he explains.

“Yeah, we can just beat the fuck out of you for funsies,” Elio chimes in.

“Oh really?” I ask, stepping up to the one Milo took out in the hallway. “Did you know he chased Lulu when she ran to my ensuite bathroom. If Milo didn’t take him out, who knows whatthis fuck would have done.” He never said anything, but the predatory look in his eyes said enough for me.

He hangs there, his entire body shaking. A foul, acrid smell wafts into my face, and a huge wet spot spread on the front of his jeans. He pissed himself…ew. “I swear, I didn’t mean nothing by it. Ronan ordered us to grab the girl!” he cries. “Please, let me go. I’ll never come near you or your family again Mr. Vettore, I swear on my life.”

“What’s your name again?” Rocco asks.

“Br-br-brody,” he stutters, his teeth clacking so loudly the residents in the lobby can probably hear him.

“Well Brody, swearing on your life doesn’t mean much because as far as I’m concerned, you’re already dead. You broke into my home…terrorized my family…trashed one of my apartments.”

Rocco takes a batting stance worthy of a professional baseball player and swings his bat, hitting Brody square in the chest. He howls in pain, his face contorted as the spikes on the bat rip through his skin. I can barely hear what he’s saying as Rocco swings a second time.

“No one threatens or touches what’s mine. You’re going to end up as pig food for a very nice drift of Kunekune pigs on our farm upstate. Did you know pigs can eat human flesh, even bones and cartilage? Everything but teeth.” Brody shakes his head, screaming. Rocco hits him again in his jaw, breaking it so it hangs pathetically from his face. “See? That’s the Vettore touch. You get educated while you’re being beaten to death.You’re welcome.”

Elio and Milo start laughing, but Piero glowers at Brody. “Can I try something, Mr. Vettore?” Rocco nods, and Peiro takes the smoking curling iron, and burns the flesh right above his belly button. Then he burns him a few inches up from that. The sizzle of the hot metal hitting his skin should disgust me, butit makes me bloody thirsty. It’s not enough—he needs to suffer more.

Brody starts to ugly cry as snot runs down his face. The guys take turns beating him with Rocco and Elio’s matching bats, but a very interesting item on the wall catched my eye. It’s a carbon steel boning knife. The bougie kind you’d only find in a professional kitchen. I take it off the wall, and hold it up to the light.

So pretty. I love a good knife.

“Ah, you like it?” Rocco’s evil, Chesire smile sends goosebumps down my spine. His shirt is covered in little blood splatters, and a deep, twisted part of me wants to melt into a lustful puddle at his feet. “I got it for you. One for the basement and another for the kitchen.”

“That’s…really sweet actually. No one ever buys me gifts,” I blurt out before realizing how much of a loser I sound like. I make a mental note to work on my impulse control.

“Oh, lionheart… Whatever you want, tell me. It’s yours, but first, lemme see what that knife can do.” The dark, smooth tenor of his voice feels like honey. It coats me until all the little nagging doubts in my mind are silenced.

I step up to Brody, taking his large, rough hand in mine. Who knows how many people he’s hurt or killed with this hand…all the evil he’s done. I use the knife to slice into his index finger, slowly running the blade next to his bone and parting the flesh from it. His screams are so piercing they wake up the other man who attacked me in my bedroom.

“Stop! Fuck! Just kill me already, please!” he begs as I start on his middle finger. At first the sight of blood made me feel sick, like I was doing something wrong.

But nothing has ever felt so right in my life. I’m delivering a cosmic level of justice.

I feel his nearness before the warmth of his body seeps through me. Rocco wraps his arms around my waist resting his head on my shoulder.

“You’re a sick fuck, toy,” he murmurs low enough that I’m the only one who hears it.

The first time he told me that, I ruminated over it, wondering if there was something broken inside me—something wrong with me for loving the crass things he says to me and the brutal way he plays with me.

But now, as I stare at the knife in my hand covered in fresh red blood, it feels like a compliment. It buoys me, my confidence swelling until I feel like I’m floating on cloud nine. I take the knife, holding it against the unnamed man’s throat.

I don’t even give a fuck I don’t know his name. The only thing I care about is that this fucker is put down.

“You could slice his throat wide open right here and now. Make a huge mess. Or you can drag it out, and we can have some real fun together…” Rocco whispers. “It’s date night, after all, no curfew for us.”

I turn my head, pressing a light kiss to his forehead. “This is the best date I’ve ever been on.”

“And the night just started.”

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