Page 51 of Hearts Held
“Do it,” I deadpan.
Freddy’s face relaxes as he and Marcus ask in unison, “What?”
“Boss…” Marcus softly states.
Cocking my head to the side, I lift the corner of my mouth into a smug grin. “Do it. Maybe I’ll finally fucking feel something.”
With that, I see a shudder rack Freddy’s body as he stutters, “F-fuck y-you.” His hand begins to tremble, the barrel of the gun vibrating against my skin.
“We don’t kill our own family!” Marcus shouts, causing Freddy to flinch. The doors to the gym open as Bobby’s voice trails in.
“What the fuck is going on?” I can hear Bobby’s footsteps near Marcus.
Marcus frantically exclaims, “I don’t know, mate, but Freddy’s fucking lost it.”
Freddy glances over to where Bobby and Marcus are standing, and that’s when he makes a grave mistake.
Swiftly, I lunge towardhim.
I raise my forearm, knocking the limb holding the pistol across his body. My hand slides down Freddy’s arm, grabbing his wrist and bending it toward his torso, the gun now resting into his abdomen. My other arm lifts to grasp his neck with my bare hand and delectablysqueeze.
“Guys—” Bobby’s hesitant voice echoes as silence consumes us. “Guys, let’s talk it out. Have a cuppa and just hug it out.” I can feel Bobby’s body close to mine as a tender hand lands atop my forearm, which is gently choking Freddy. “Everett, come on, brotha, we don’t kill one another.”
My silence is all-consuming. A pin drop could be heard. The tension builds, electricity and anger rising within me. I can nearly electrocute Freddy with the amount of pent-up rage that’s building within me. Nevertheless, I ease off his neck, but grab the gun from his limp fingers.
Opening the cylinder of the gun, I empty it of the remaining bullets and state, “No, we don’t kill family.” Then I rear back my arm and assault Freddy’s bitch-ass face with the pistol.
Bobby lets out a long, exaggerated exhale. “I figured a hug, ya know? With each other’s arms, not a pistol kiss to the face.”
Freddy’s body rocks back. He lands on his ass with a loudthudfollowing his descent.
I bend down, sneering into his face, “Who’s clothed you? Who’s sacrificed the most for this family? Who’s everyone’s fucking problem solver and punching bag when shit doesn’t go their way? It’s me, you fucking prick. That’s why Father put me in charge. Did I want this position? No.” Standing back up, I pocket the gun and continue, “But I’ll do it with honor, accountability and as much fucking integrity as a fucking gangster can. So grow up, stand down and get the fuck out of the way.”
Returning to the farm with Marcus and Bobby, I lock eyes with Kenneth as he approaches the barn on his Triumph motorcycle. The Adders unload the spy’s bodyand dispose of his existence by taking the carcass down to the pig pen.
I hear the crunch of gravel as Kenneth comes closer.
“You got the bastard?” he asks, sliding off his motorcycle goggles from his head and walking inside the barn beside me.
“Somewhat, but no other information before Freddy had to come and fuck everything up,” I state, opening the heavy barn door for him.
He shakes his head as he takes off his winter coat.
“Jesus fucking Christ, why can’t we fucking kill him?” he sneers, setting his things down.
“You know the answer to that,” I retort. A scream reverberates within the air.
We walk to the next room within the barn. A few Adders are staring into a pit filled with fifty or so snakes. They continuously coil and strike a man who is hollering and screaming in pain.
Kenneth points at the man in the pit and looks at Biscuit. “Anything from the other guy?”
Marcus joins the conversation. “No, boss. He kept swearing and singing shitty songs, like ‘Ring Around the Rosie,’ saying the only thing he’ll be ‘singing’ ismusic, then occasionally cursing at us in Italian.” Marcus places his hands within his trouser pockets then collectively winces with the other Adders as a snake strikes the gent’s face—right in the eye socket.
Neither Kenneth nor I bat an eye. We stand side by side, arms crossed.
“So it looks like the Italians and the London mob are working together, eh?” he mutters under his breath, then runs a hand over his face.
I look up at the barn ceiling. The crisp winter air fills my nostrils as I contemplate how we could take on two separate mobs.
