Page 21 of Fiercely Protective

Chapter Five

Rogue

The argument with Bri had caused me to be later to my impromptu meeting with Blaze than I had intended. When my driver stopped the car out in front of the dark metal warehouse building in a more industrialized part of the city where we conducted our more clandestine meetings and slightly less than legal activities, I motioned for him to stay behind. I did not know what Blaze had waiting for me inside, and there were some parts of my business that I kept strictly between Blaze and me.

“Took you long enough.”

Blaze unhurriedly stepped out of the dark shadows of the mostly empty building. A smoke circle passed from his lips as he emerged into the moonlight before tossing the cigarette he had been smoking on the ground at his feet.

“I wasn’t expecting to have to leave the confines of the penthouse again tonight so you will have to excuse my tardiness.”

Blaze stepped closer, and I could see his hands were already covered in blood.

“From the extra surly look on your face, I would venture to guess that you were not successful convincing your newest plaything to join you in your bed tonight.” His lips curved up slightly in a sarcastic grin. “Or maybe leaving her alone naked in your bed is the reason for your annoyance. Either way, I’m glad to oblige.”

A low growl passed from my lips as I stalked forward. “I don’t recall it being any of your business who I have in my bed or in what state of undress they are in. But regardless of the inconvenience of your call, here I am, shivering in the cold and looking at your ugly face instead of enjoying what could have turned into a pleasurable evening. Not exactly the delightful turn of events I was hoping for, thus the reason I seem disagreeable. Now, why the fuck am I here? I know you did not drag me down here just to chat.”

“I have a present for you.” He walked back toward the warehouse.

I followed the smell of blood, piss, and fear growing stronger the farther we went into the building. Blaze stopped in front of a man tied to a chair. His face was beaten and bloody, his shirt had been torn open and there were cuts along his chest still oozing blood from where Blaze’s knife had carved into his skin. Knives and blades had always been his preferred method of inflicting pain when he was “playing” with his victims.

“There were two men outside the club tonight, the shooter, and this unfortunate fellow. He was lucky enough to escape on foot but not smart enough to keep running. I caught up with him a few blocks away, hiding behind a dumpster and waiting for someone to come pick him up, but I have a feeling that since he and his dead friend fucked things up so spectacularly, whoever sent him decided that he wasn’t worth the trouble and left him to fend for himself. One of our men working security recognized him as being with the would-be assassin tonight outside the club before all the chaos occurred. All he has done since I caught him is make threats and feign courage.”

I leaned forward to glare into the swollen and bruised eyes of the man Blaze had strapped to the chair before me. I studiedthe tattoo on his neck. “Not Russian. This looks to be Armenian.” I gripped his chin and forced his face up to mine. “My question is why would a member of the Armenian mafia be in my city, and why would you try to attack the leader of the most powerful Russian crime organization in the country? If you are so eager to meet death, you have come to the right place.”

I watched as the man’s teeth clenched and his chin jutted out in defiance, and I smiled. This was exactly the distraction I was needing right now.

I took off my coat, not wanting it to get ruined, and handed it to Blaze before putting on the thick leather gloves I had with me. I tilted my head slightly as I examined the man sitting before me.

“Most men are brave until they realize that there is no escape from death. I have seen it before many times. You think you can block out the pain, the fear. You think you are strong enough to withstand it. But there comes a point when death is not what one fears the most.”

His eyes flicked up to watch Blaze circle behind him. The anticipation of what was to come made his body begin to tremble.

“I can see the wheels turning in your mind. You think that if you talk to me and tell me what is being planned, your boss, whoever that might be, will do far worse than what I am about to do.” I leaned closer, my voice lowering as I spoke to him, adding to his fear. “But that isn’t true. I can make your suffering linger. I have spent years studying the art of bringing the maximum amount of pain with minimal blood loss. It allows me to play with my victims for longer before they bleed out or lose consciousness. I can do this for days until you tell meeverything you know. When I am done with you, you will be willing to sell out your mother just so the pain will end. And I am not squeamish, so shall we get started?”

I could see my words were starting to affect him. Perspiration mixed with blood began to drip into his eyes. I had a reputation, one that I had proudly cultivated over the years, and whoever had sent him had to know what would occur if he was caught. While the thoughts of what was about to happen to him began to sink into his brain, Blaze rolled over a small table with everything I would need to cause the agony necessary to get the information I needed. Just the sight of the implements made his eyes widen.

I walked over to the table and let my fingers glide over each piece. There were knives of all shapes and sizes, some jagged and others sharp as razors. Screwdrivers, drills, poisons, and alcohol to pour over the wounds to make them burn. Speaking of burning, there was a butane torch, pliers, a hammer, and all sorts of fun tools. I finally settled on the nail gun. It would be a nice slow start. I picked it up and walked toward him before pressing it to his shoulder.

“Since I do have somewhere I would much rather be right now, I will give you an opportunity to stop this before it begins. Tell me who sent you and why you tried to assassinate Nickolai Volkoff at my club tonight?”

A sudden flash of defiance appeared in his eyes, and I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “Fuck you! Soon all of you will die and this city will be free of your stench.”

I squeezed the trigger, sending the nail into his shoulder at the joint. He screamed before spitting blood on the floor at my feet from where he had bitten through his lip.

I kept my voice calm and steady as I watched a glazed look of pain and anguish begin to spread over his face. “Such vulgar language and spite for someone in such a precarious position, my friend. Let’s try this again. Who sent you?”

I pressed the nail gun to the side of his knee at a place that would create optimum pain.

“Kakes ger merakoun!”Eat shit motherfucker!

I pulled the trigger again. His screams echoed around us. “I speak several different languages, and Armenian is one of them. You should learn to think before you speak.”

The sound of Blaze cracking his knuckles echoed around the room as he stepped forward, drawing my attention. “While you might have your reasons for dragging this out, I would like to get at least a couple of hours of sleep tonight. So, stop playing around. Just get on with it. Nail his balls to the chair or cut off his dick. I don’t care which, just speed this up.”

My voice dripped with cynicism. “That’s easy for you to say, you have already had a bit of fun with him.”

I raised an eyebrow as I turned back to our victim and gave Blaze’s suggestion a bit more thought. “Hmm, I imagine you are right. He isn’t going to need his dick after tonight anyway.” I moved over to the table, selected a scalpel, and stepped closer. That was all it took for our Armenian friend to start talking, and I found it rather disappointing that he didn’t have the stamina to endure more.

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