Page 22 of Blackout: Book Two

“Fuck you,” I hiss, taking a step forward. Raising my fists, my eyes dart between the two men doing a number on me.

“More,” Il Padrino demands.

The two men circle me and despite the pain shooting through my abdomen, I lift my leg and deliver a roundhouse kick, knocking the pipe out of the cocksuckers hand. I don’t get a chance to celebrate the victory because his partner lands a blow to the side of my head. I fall to the ground and my head slams against the concrete.

A groan rumbles from the back of my throat as the bastard straddles me, using my face as a fucking punching bag. Blood sprays from my left eye as I struggle to get him off me.

“Still, not willing to cooperate?” Padrino questions.

I don’t know what he wants from me, but I’ll die before I give this cunt anything. Jack Parrish may not have taught me how to be a proper husband or father but he sure as fuck taught me how to be a loyal soldier.

I hear the steel door open and with the eye that isn’t swollen shut and bleeding, I watch Padrino turn to the guard. He speaks to him in Spanish, but I can’t make out a single word because of the blood swooshing in my ears.

“You have a decision to make,” Padrino calls to me. His voice sounds ions away. “The way I see it, your club went against their word and in turn, my brother’s organization suffered a hit. We lost money on those streets you promised us and you’re gonna make up every fucking penny.”

He takes a knee next to me and drags his fingers through my hair, tugging it hard so that my head jerks and my one eye meets his.

“The guards on the cell block are going to turn their heads and you my friend, you’re gonna sell my product through these halls.”

“The fuck I am,” I grunt. “I don’t sell drugs.”

“You sure about that?”

Inside my mouth, I swirl the blood around preparing to spit it in his face when he pulls a wild card on me. The guard hands him a phone and I watch Padrino smile at the screen. His gold teeth glisten as he runs his tongue over them.

“Such a pretty little thing,” he murmurs. “Look at those tits.”

The blood in my veins runs cold as my stomach rolls. He turns the screen to me and even with one eye and blurred vision I can make out Lacey’s beautiful face.

“No,” I grind out. “No, you stay the fuck away from her!”

“It’s too late for that, Chico,” Padrino says as I reach for the phone. He leans away, out of my reach and my eyes dart back to the phone. “That isn’t a picture, motherfucker. That’s a live fucking feed. Either you agree to my terms or I tell the man sitting in your bedroom, watching your wife sleep to wake her up with his dick in her mouth. I bet a sweet piece of ass like that gives good head. If you’re lucky, I’ll let you watch her swallow his come before he slices her throat.”

An animalistic sound tears through my throat and my scream echoes off the walls as I lift my torso from the concrete and lunge for him. He tosses the phone to the side and wraps his tattooed fingers around my throat, slamming me back against the ground.

“Don’t try me, Chico, I get off on watching another man’s woman on her death bed.”

“Don’t fucking touch her,” I grind out. My voice sounds weak even to my own ears and I feel wetness pool from my eye. Whether it’s blood or tears, I’m not sure. “I’ll do whatever you want just don’t touch her.”

He flashes another golden smile at me.

“I thought you’d see things my way,” he says as he holds out his palm. The guard drops a small black bag into his palm that looks a lot like a cosmetic case. Padrino pushes it against my chest as he leans over me. “Inside is the product you're going to move. Don’t disappoint me. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m going to go jerk off to your wife’s tits.”

He rises to his full height. A moment later, Padrino and his men leave the room. The guard closes the door and I release an anguished cry as I slam the back of my head against the concrete repeatedly, hoping to erase the grainy image of Lacey lying helpless in our bed from my memory.

My fingers close around the leather bag sitting on top of my chest and her name falls from my lips.

“I’m sorry,” I croak. “So, fucking sorry.”

---