Page 38 of Rise of Temptation

“Frankie,” Enzo interrupts. “Shut him the fuck up.”

“Gladly.” I rub my hands together, then turn to choose the perfect pair of pliers. When Emilio sees them, he starts trying to break free from his bindings, but it’s no use. Sal has had plenty of practice tying people up—for pain and for pleasure—and there’s no way to escape until someone chooses to set you free. And that’s not happening.

Pliers in hand, I approach my sobbing victim. Sal steps up unprompted to hold Emilio’s mouth open, and I get a firm grip on one of his molars. A gentle tug makes him scream, andI laugh cruelly. They always show their fear sooner or later. I give him a minute to calm down but keep the pliers in place on his tooth. When he looks like he’s about to start fighting us off again, I make eye contact with Sal and give the tooth a vicious pull. It pops free, followed by a second one, and then I shove some gauze in Emilio’s mouth to staunch the flow of blood.

“Look at the bright side. You’re still alive, and those teeth were far enough back that no one will even notice,” Sal offers.

Emilio doesn’t seem to hear him. In fact, he doesn’t appear to be paying attention to any of us anymore. Enzo realizes the same thing and stoops down in front of him to make him an offer.

“You owe us an apology for breaking the rules. That’s a pretty simple way to avoid losing anything else.”

“Fuck you! I know this is all just showmanship before you finally kill me. So just do it already! Or are you too scared?” he taunts.

“Come on, man. You know better than to say shit like that,” Sal groans.

Enzo backs up to give us the room we need to work. He doesn’t have much patience for uncooperative assholes. Sal bends down and takes off one of Emilio’s shoes, and I grab a pair of shears that will easily cut through a toe.

When he sees them and puts two and two together, a wet spot starts to grow in the crotch of his dark jeans.

“Dude! What the fuck?!” Sal shouts.

“Not such a tough guy now, are you?” I smirk, but Emilio just continues to cry.

“Please, I’m sorry! I won’t come back. I won’t touch any of your stupid whores ever again. I don’t want anything to do with this place. Just let me go and don’t cut off my toes. Please!”

“You’re pathetic,” I inform him. Then I turn to Enzo. “What do you think? Do we believe him?”

Enzo studies the blubbering mess on the chair. “I’d tell you to stop acting like a little girl, but that would be insulting to little girls,” he says with disgust. To me, he tilts his hand back and forth, indicating he feels so-so about buying the coerced apology. I interpret that to mean that he can keep his toe. Mostly.

The pliers I used on his teeth are still sitting on the table. I get up to swap out my shears and then squat on the floor in front of Emilio, being careful to avoid the puddle of urine. It isn’t easy to work the pliers into position, but I manage to get a good enough grasp on his toenail that I can push myself to a standing position and the force of my movement brings the nail with me.

Emilio lets out a beautiful scream and then immediately passes out. It’s a fair reaction; losing a nail fucking hurts. While he’s down for the count, Sal and I bandage up his foot.

“Let’s get him out of here,” Enzo says. “He’ll be easier to move while he’s quiet.”

We untie him, then Sal and I each grab an arm. Neither of us wants to touch his legs and get covered in piss, so we drag him—not all that carefully—up the stairs and down the hall that leads to the alley behind the club. He fits perfectly behind the dumpster.

“Hopefully when he wakes up he realizes what a piece of trash he is and feels lucky that we didn’t toss him in,” Sal says.

“I don’t have high hopes for any self-realization on his part,” Enzo replies.

“Do you think he’ll keep his word and stay away from us?” I ask.

Enzo shrugs. “If he knows what’s good for him.”

Chapter 30

Elise

I’m going to lose my mind if I have to sit in this house for one more minute without doing anything productive. I’ve never had a case move this slow. Being undercover should be helping it go faster, but it seems to be having the opposite effect. I can’t tell if things are actually as stagnant as they seem, or if Enzo just isn’t telling me all of the information he has. My coworkers have been just as silent, just sending generic check-in messages and asking for updates. Which I don’t have.

I’m not getting pulled from this case, I know that much. I’ve invested too much time and energy—too much of myself—to give up now.

Tonight, I’m going to push my luck with Joey. He’s babysitting me while Enzo, Sal, and Frankie are at the club. I haven’t figured out why Enzo thinks I need someone to watch me, but at least he picked Joey. I’m sure I could get information out of Sal too, but I’m guessing he’s loyal enough to Frankie that he’d be a harder nut to crack. Joey seems like he would be open to talking to me if I played my cards right. Worst case scenario, I can always seduce him.

Dressed in my uniform—just in case Joey is reporting every little thing back to Enzo—I go downstairs in search of my target. He’s exactly where I figured he’d be: playing video games in the living room. It works in my favor because he’s relaxed and distracted instead of suspicious and on edge.

“How come you’re the only one who gets stuck with babysitting duty?” I ask, plopping down on the couch next to him.

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