Page 8 of It Will Always Be You
Noting we’ve approached the edge of the Pit, I glance down to see one of our new runners, bound and gagged as he thrashes widely.The whites of his eyes are visible as he locks eyes with me and starts fighting even harder to get free.
“And what do we have here?” I drawl, prowling around to the other side of the hole, crouching down so I can see the kid better. Kid truly is the only way to describe him—he looks young as fuck.
“We have a wannabe rat. Isn’t that right?” At the kid’s increased mumbling and frantic head shaking, Ciaran continues, “Oh, so itwasn’tyou I saw trying to break into Senior’s house? It wasn’t you who was about to go in all guns blazing like some pathetic rookie hit man?”
Spitting on him, Ciaran steps back, looking at me with glee. “I caught him crawling around the house all sketchy like, a mask on and his hood pulled up. He was packing heat, too.”
With a curse, I ponder aloud, “Now, what would give someone like this the idea that was a smart thing to do?”
“Probably someone whispering in his ear, full of false promises.”
“Question is, who?”
“Only one way to find out.”
Sharing a dark look, we act at the same time, reaching to grab the kid by his ankles and armpits. Ignoring his wiggling, we wrangle him over to the meat hooks and get him hooked up just how we like them: Immobile. Helpless. Stretched to the point of pain. All their vulnerable areas exposed.
“Here’s how this is going to work. We’re going to ask you questions. If you answer them, we’ll only beat you up a little. If you don’t or you lie, we’ll start removing body parts,” I drawl, unbuttoning my cufflinks and rolling up my sleeves. Slipping one of the black rubber aprons we keep down here over my white shirt, I pick up a rusty knife from the array of tools beside me. Ciaran lets out a cackle as he joins me in getting ready, shouldering his hatchet before joining me in front of our captive.
Reaching up, he yanks the gag out to a steady stream of pleas and apologies that fall on deaf ears. I jerk my chin at Ciaran. With a manic chuckle, he lands a punch before prowling around to take his placebehind the captive, resting his chin on his shoulder and muttering, “Now, now, enough of that. You heard the man. All we want are some answers out of you. Easy peasy, right?”
Watching him struggle not to let out more noise, I tip his chin back with edge of my knife.
“Let’s start easy, shall we? What’s your name?”
“Co…Colin, sir,” he stutters, his Adam’s apple bobbing with his struggle to swallow around his nerves.
“See how easy that was? Now, Colin, what were you doing outside Senior’s house? Surely, you’ve been told that’s off limits to specks of dirt like you by now.” I curl my lip in disgust as he whimpers, and his eyes glow glassy. Fucking pussy. Whoever recruited him needs to relearn what it takes to be a Four Points member, because this sure as shit isn’t it.
“I…I didn’t know… I thought it was a random house.” The thing about this job is, you learn how to weed out liars early on. Everyone has tells, and detecting those tells is all too easy when you’ve clocked as many hours down here as we have. Between the frantic, almost skittish expression on Colin’s face to the way he can’t maintain eye contact, he gives himself away instantly.
“You thought a house in our gated community, with our emblem engraved on the front fucking door, was a random house?” I snarl, spit flying as I apply pressure to the knife currently wedged under his chin.
“That sounds like a lie to me.” Ciaran sighs, that manic look in his eyes returning. Quicker than Colin can flinch, I draw my knife down and slam it into his thigh, listening to him howl in pain.
Little does he know, that’s nothing compared to what he has coming his way.
Stepping back, I wipe the blood on my hand on the apron and grab a pair of pliers. While he’s busy whimpering about his stab wound, I clamp the pliers around one of his fingers, relishing in the crunch as I rid him of the useless digit. For a second, he goes silent as all the blood drains from his face, and then he lets out a noise only dogsshould be able to hear.
“Let’s try that again, shall we?What the fuck were you doing at my Da’s house?” I roar, taking great pleasure in his flinch, only to freeze as he realises that just presses him even closer to Ciaran. With a chuckle, Ciaran swings his signature hatchet to the ground, taking great joy in the kid’s whimper at the clang.
“It was just meant to be a quick in and out,” he cries, glancing between us as if he doesn’t know who to fear the most. That’s the smartest choice he’s made so far. Depending on the day and circumstances, the answer to that varies. Right now, though, we’re pretty neck in neck and equally sick of this bullshit.
“We’re going to need more than that, kid,” Ciaran chimes in, making a show of reaching for his hatchet again.
“No, please! I’ll…I’ll tell you everything, just not that. Please!” It’s always amusing to watch realisation sink in that the Butcher Brothers isn’t some cute nickname Ciaran and Brennan have. Seeing either one of them handle a hatchet always serves as a surefire way to loosen tongues.
“Then. Talk,” I growl, wrenching my knife free and wiping the blood across his cheek, pressing the tip into it to draw his eyes back to me.
“I was meant to see if he was really out of the country, that’s it! No one was meant to get hurt,” he explains frantically, looking between us for a scrap of mercy he won’t find.
“Who sent you?” I growl, spitting directly into his face and watching it land beside his eye.
“My dad!” he damn near squeals like a pig. Scanning my mental memory of the ever-growing family trees of the Four Points draws me a blank. When I look at Ciaran, he just shrugs, equally as lost. It’s impossible to keep up with everyone when half these fuckers are popping out a new kid every year like it’s going out of fashion.
“And just who the hell is your dad?” I bark, slicing into his cheek and relishing the scream he lets out.
“Billy Hayes,” he finally confesses, looking at me with wild eyes, begging for this to be the end of his suffering. I’m too frozen in shock to deal with him. Looking behind him, I meet Ciaran’s gaze, who, for once, looks horrified. And for good reason—Billy is our current underboss, my dad’s second. If he’s sending his son to snoop around then, shit just hit the fan even quicker than I was expecting.
