Page 97 of Ruthless Beast

Ican’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t focus on anything else but my racing thoughts about Emily. I think I’ve aged ten years since she disappeared. The news that I’m about to be a father isn’t helping my situation one bit. The worst is that I have no idea whether the woman of my dreams, my soulmate, is alive or dead.

I’m a fucking mafia boss! How can I not find one woman? This is ridiculous. How far can she get without a passport?

No matter where I turn, I end up at a dead end. I’m at the end of my rope when Andreas enters my office late one night.

“I think you’d better have a look at this,” he says, handing me an envelope.

“What is it?”

“A printout of Damon’s text messages for the last six months. He deleted most of them off his device, but the messages were backed up.”

I open the envelope and take out the printed pages. My heart is pumping hard while I glance over the texts. I look up at Andreas halfway through. He has the same dark cloud around him as I do.

“Where is he?”

“Downstairs. I had him picked up.”

“Bring the little fucker to the gym, will you?”

Andreas nods and leaves the room. I can’t believe what I’m reading. It’s a veritable treasure trove of damning information. One name stands out. I know this name. He’s a capo in Gallo’s camp. It can’t be a coincidence.

Damon is in the gym, tied to a chair, by the time I get there. I’m spitting mad as I glare at him, but I know I must keep my cool until I get the information on Emily’s location. Once I have that, I’m going to make Damon suffer the way he’s made me suffer.

Damon isn’t saying a word. He’s motionless on the chair, blinking occasionally and staring ahead into space. So he’s acting tough, is he? Okay. Two can play this game.

I walk up to him calmly, of course, and give him a backhand. Damon and the chair he’s tied to topple to the floor. Andreas picks up the chair and Damon with it and places him upright again. A small gash on Damon’s lip is wet with blood. A thin stream trickles down his chin and drips onto his white shirt.

“Where is Emily?” I growl at him.

“I don’t know,” he says defiantly before I punch him.

Damon spits out a mouthful of blood. I hit him with my fist the second time around, so he’s bleeding profusely now. I don’t care. I'll hit him as many times as I have to to get the truth out of him. I’m not above killing this man for Emily’s sake.

“I see you’ve been rather chatty,” I say, throwing down the printout I got from Andreas.

Damon’s expression reveals a brief moment of panic before he puts on his tough guy act once again. It won’t be too long before he’ll be begging me to kill him.

“Where is Emily?”

“I don’t know.”

This little bastard is tough. Time to up the ante. I nod at Andreas, who takes out a small bag and places it on a table next to Damon.

“I’m going to give you one more chance, Damon.”

He glares at me defiantly and then down at his shoes. Andreas unzips the bag and lays it open on the table. Damon looks at the contents of the bag. He’s sweating profusely now.

“I hear it’s pretty painful. Losing your fingernails, that is. I haven't had the misfortune of experiencing it, but I must say that most men I’ve witnessed who have endured this procedure weren’t happy.”

Damon blinks faster.

“I don’t know where she is.”

“Are you sure?” Andreas asks, picking up the shiny pliers and twisting them in the light.

“I think we need to make sure that we have young Damon here’s full attention, Andreas. What do you think?”

“I think it’s a good idea. Just to be sure. I hear pain is a fantastic memory trigger,” Andreas agrees. “Eenie, meenie, miney, mo,” he says, then grabs Damon’s right hand and settles on the baby finger.

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