Page 89 of Straightened Out

“They fucking cut three of my fingers off!”

I close the distance between me and the desk and assess the damage.

Christ, what a mess.

Schooling my features, I lift my gaze back to Micky and shrug my shoulders.

“Lucky for you, you got seven more.”

“Fuck you,” he spats.

The instant the words leave his lips, Phil drops the butcher knife to his other hand. Micky wails in agony as I step around him. I shrug off my suit jacket and carefully drape it across the back of an empty chair. Unbuttoning my sleeves, I roll them to my elbows and look back at Phil and Matty.

“That’s enough,” I order.

All eyes turn to me, but I ignore them as I step back around the desk. Bracing my hands on the edge of the desk, I lean forward and meet Micky’s glare.

“Sign the fucking papers, Micky, and I’ll give you back your fingers so you can sew them back on.”

“Take all ten,” he growls. “I ain’t signing shit. Not in the fucking lifetime. My debt was with Vic. He’s gone and I worked too hard to hand over my whole life’s earnings to his little cunt of a nephew.”

I gotta hand it to the old bastard, he’s got balls of steel. In another life, I’d commend him for taking a stand against me. Maybe even applaud him.

But, unfortunately, that’s not an option.

Poor Micky is going to learn the hard way.

I lift my head and my gaze wanders around the room, taking in all the grim faces that wait for my command to kill. However, the words never find their way to my tongue and I jut my chin toward the door, dismissing them.

“Everyone out.”

“But—” Matty starts.

“Out!”

“You heard the man,” Rienzi says.

Everyone slowly starts to file out of the room, except for Rienzi who stays rooted in place.

“You too,” I tell him.

“Boss—”

“Now, Rienzi.”

His eyes dart from me to Micky.

“Wait a minute,” Micky says.

Ignoring him, I keep my eyes trained to Rienzi.

“As you wish,” he croaks hoarsely. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

“Hold it,” Micky shouts as Rienzi turns around. “What the fuck is happening?”

Rienzi exits the room, closing the door behind him and I turn to Micky.

“Fuck,” he groans.

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