Page 57 of Dangerous Contract: Part 2

"You shot me!" Frillman yelled, his voice cracking.

Ignoring the pathetic outburst, Raz continued. "I let you live. But as soon as you were free, you asked your people to look into me and my family. You wanted to know who I was fucking, who I loved, where I hung out, where I slept, all that shit. You wanted my loved ones' heads in a box, right?"

Frillman shivered but didn't reply, not that Raz needed him to.

"You said you would rain down hell on me and mine," Raz continued, standing in front of the cowering man. "Who's in hell now, bitch?"

"You little fucke..." Frillman tried to spit out.

Raz planted his foot in the bitch's face before he could finish the sentence, breaking his nose with a sickening crunch. Blood spilled from Frillman's nostrils as he cried. The man's hand went to his nose before he pulled his hand back to stare at it.

He gasped, tears mixing with the crimson streaks that poured from his nose. Raz crouched down in front of the bundle of whimpering bitch before him.

"You have a wife," Raz said, voice low and menacing. "You have children. You should've thought of them before you pissed me off. Because of you, I'm thinking of them. Because of you, they're next on my list."

Frillman shook his head desperately, tears streaming down his face. "No. Please. They did nothing wrong."

"You're right. They didn't," Raz replied icily. "Just like the woman I love did nothing wrong. Yet, you've sent your people after her. All is fair in war. Nothing is off-limits."

"Please..." Frillman choked out, but before he could say anything more, Raz dug his finger into the bullet wound he'd gifted Frillman not even two hours ago. The man screamed, blood gushing from the wound as Raz twisted his finger inside it.

"Do I look like a man who'd be swayed if you beg?" Raz asked, his tone dripping with contempt.

"N-no... Please..." Frillman stammered, pain contorting his features.

"Shut the fuck up," Raz snapped just as a cell phone chimed from inside Frillman's coat pocket. "Someone's texting you. Let's see who it is."

Yanking his finger from the wound, Raz reached for the coat. Frillman tried to twist away, but Raz slammed his fist into the man's already bleeding nose, relishing the pained groans that followed. He finally retrieved the phone from Frillman's pocket, only to find it locked and asking for a thumbprint.

“Give me your hand,” Raz demanded.

Frillman shook his head, clenching his hands into fists.

"Bro," Cas called from behind him. "We need to leave. I'm sure the cops have been called. Leo and Rome are dragging the bodies into the lobby. They told me to come get you."

"Pop the trunk and bring me a knife," Raz told Cas, his voice low and dangerous. Frillman's gaze flickered from Raz to Cas, the fear in his eyes intensifying.

"A little job knife or a big job knife?" Cas asked.

"A big job knife," Raz answered, never taking his eyes off Frillman.

The man quickly unclenched his fist, presenting his hand to Raz with a desperate plea in his eyes. But Raz just smiled down at him.

"Here," Frillman said, shoving his hand forward.

Raz's smile didn't falter.

"This was Patrick's doing," Frillman began snitching, desperation seeping into his voice. "Your uncle convinced us all to turn on the president."

"Did he convince you to send your people after the woman I love?" Raz growled.

Frillman's mouth opened, then closed as the man searched for the right words, hoping he could find words that would save his life.

Unfortunately for Frillman, those words didn't exist.

Chapter Seventeen

ORAZIO

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