Page 15 of Fear Me, Love Me

As I approach the metal door, the bouncer within sees me through the spyhole and opens up. “Good evening, Mr. Mercer.”

Music is coming from down the corridor along with the sound of people talking and laughing. Officially, this place is a legally run bar, but it’s the illegal gambling rooms beyond that make money. People win and lose tens of thousands of dollars here every night. Mostly lose, as everyone knows things are weighed in the house’s favor. People like Vivienne’s father. It was in this club that he ruined his family, and because of that, I met my beloved.

Then I discovered all the pain she was wearing on her skin because of her family.

And a man called Lucas Jones.

Downstairs and through a locked door, the basement is dim and quiet, apart from a steady drip echoing off the concrete and the buzz and flicker of an old neon bulb. Jones is tied to a chair in the middle of the room, beaten and bloodied and dressed in a tattered T-shirt. Sandy hair is falling into his eyes. He lifts his head and he peers through it as he hears me approach through the shadows.

“Wh-who’s there?” he calls in a quavering voice.

I step into the light, and his mouth drops open. He rears back in his chair, shaking his head. “No. Please.Please.”

We’ve never met. I haven’t even told him why he’s here. Apparently his guilty conscience is eating at him because seeing me has confirmed his worst fears.

He’s going to die tonight, and it’s going to be painful.

Taking my time, I remove my jacket and hang it on a hook. There’s a length of heavy chain on the floor, the links almost the size of my fists. I pick it up and begin rotating a few feet of it in my right hand, faster and faster until it’s whirling in a blur.

Jones is whimpering and shaking his head. “Please, Mr. Mercer. I don’t—”

The first thing I want is for him to shut the fuck up. I lash the heavy chain across his face at such speed that teeth and blood explode from his mouth. Jones’s head whips to one side, and blood drips into his lap as he whimpers and sobs.

Relishing the sight of him so wretched with pain, I draw the chain slowly through my fingers and spin it again. It’s not one of my typical weapons, but it’s so very satisfying on the right person. The chain is heavy enough to inflict a lot of painful damage, but not so brutal that it will kill my victim in a handful of blows. I’m going to draw this out as long as possible. Make him suffer like Vivienne has suffered.

Using the chain, I break Jones’s arms and ribs. Tear off an ear. Dislodge one of his eyes from its socket. He thought he could get away with the things he’s done in my city. When I crack his shin bone, it’s satisfying knowing he’ll never walk again.

He screams every time the heavy links strike his body. Gasping in pain, he cries, “Why are you doing this?”

I don’t have to explain myself to a piece of meat.

Another strike breaks his nose and lacerates his cheek, and he overbalances in the chair and topples onto his side. The pain makes him pass out for a few minutes, and he loses control of himself, urinating on the floor. When he awakens, I’m standing over him with the bloody chain in both my hands. He actually cries for his mommy. Pathetic.

With his dying, gurgling breath, he whispers, “Was one of them your daughter? Your girlfriend?”

I stand on his throat and lean in close. “She’s the mother of my children. Rot in hell, you piece of shit. Pray I don’t die too soon, because when I follow you down there, I’m going to rip your soul into tiny, painful little pieces while you scream in agony for the rest of eternity.”

I raise the chain, whirling it again, and then slam it down on his skull.

Slowly, the light dies from his remaining good eye. I’m covered in sweat and blood spray. Watching my enemies die normally gives my mood a boost for the rest of the day, but I feel nothing but seething hatred for the corpse lying on the concrete floor.

It’s notenough.

I can’t undo what’s already been done, and that’s agony.

“Liam,” I shout, and throw the chain aside.

Liam comes into the room with a basin of water and a towel over his arm, and I wash my hands and face. The water quickly turns red. To tell Vivienne about this, or not? Once we’re together with my ring on her finger, my baby in her belly, and the rest of my plan falling into place, I will tell her. My fierce, sweet girl will put the past behind her and be ready for our future.

I smile with satisfaction when I remember that my baby could already be in her belly.

“Alan Merrick is in the club tonight, and he wishes to meet with you,” Liam announces.

I shake the bloodied water from my fingers and push them through my hair. Merrick. Merrick. Oh, yes, one of the town council members. I doubt I’m interested in what he has to say, but I’m not too busy to tell him to fuck off.

Upstairs in the main bar, I take a seat at my usual table and the bartender sends over a whisky. Not three minutes later, a man in a gray suit and a cheap blue tie tries to approach, but a bouncer steps in his way. Alan Merrick gives me a hopeful smile.

I incline my head, and the bouncer lets him through. As he draws closer and catches sight of me in the dim light, his obsequious smile falters.

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