Page 50 of Blood Spilled
“Is that supposed to scare me? Such choices you give me. Looks like I lose either way. Good thing I have a high tolerance for pain.”
His eyes grow darker. “Let’s see how high it is, shall we?” He pulls out a pair of pliers from his pocket. I don't flinch or show any emotion, just remain neutral. It was easy not to show any fear when you didn't have any. He bends down, pulling the shoe off my right foot. After yanking off my sock, he tugs at each toe singing the “This Little Piggy Went to Market” song until he finally got to my pinky.
He slips them under the nail. “Tell me what your brothers are planning. I know you are a part of it.”
I don't say anything, and he applies pressure to my nail, slightly bending it back. “You going to help me or not, hijo?”
“I'm not your fucking son!”
“I guess that's a no.” He rips off the nail of my pinky and I clench my teeth to keep from screaming. “Now are you going to cooperate? I'd hate for you to lose all your toenails.”
“Fuck you,” I spit.
He laughs louder. “Wrong answer.” He rips off another nail from one of my middle toes. He does it two more times and I am taking in deep breaths through my nose to keep from howling out in pain.
“I'm not telling you shit, because there is no fucking plan. Only I was planning to save Santiago. My brothers don't care what happens to him. Plus, now that I've chosen our enemy, they don't care about what happens to me either.”
“You're a good liar, but I guess I suspected that. We are related after all. How about I give you some time to think about it?”
He tosses a handkerchief at my hands. “Clean yourself up, you got blood everywhere. I'm surprised you didn't piss yourself. Most men do.” He pulls out a zip lock bag from his pocket and gathers my bloody toenails from the floor. “I think I'll give these to Santiago as a gift. Maybe now he will believe me when I tell him I'll find a way to get him to talk.”
Before I can say anything, he walks out of the shed, closing the door and locking it back up. I'm going to kill that fucker as soon as I get the chance. I just hope he agrees to meet up with Gabriel soon. I’d much rather keep my other toenails if it’s possible. I slam my feet down on the ground and reach for my toes, pressing the white cloth over the bleeding ones. After a while, my eyes grow heavy and my back starts to ache. I lean against the shed and close my eyes, hoping that when I open them again, it won't be to Bobby returning with a pair of pliers.
My eyes open to the lock clicking open and there’s a man standing in the middle of the double doors with a gun pointed at me. “Don’t try anything asshole, I came here to take your assdown to the basement where the camera is set up. We will be putting on a nice little show for your boyfriend later. I think he will really enjoy hearing you scream in pain and agony while being held down in his bedroom, knowing he can’t do a damn thing about it. So, get up.”
I attempt to move and the throbbing pain in my foot makes it difficult to keep my balance. He kicks me in the leg. “I said move, pendejo.”
“Give me a fucking minute.” I try again and this time succeed with wobbly legs. He pushes me out of the shed, almost causing me to trip over the ramp. I steady myself on the door and keep walking when he pokes the back of my head with the gun.
“Come on, I don’t have all day.”
We are almost to the house when I hear a gunshot come from up above and when I turn around there’s a hole in the middle of my escort’s head. Blood pours down his face before he falls forward, crashing to the ground. I quickly jump out of the way, looking around for the person who’s responsible for the dead body lying next to me.
The branches of the tree by the shed move, but I can’t make out the cause of it. I’m about to walk closer when two men come running toward me. “Don’t fucking move.” One of them is on a phone, yelling in Spanish, asking for Robert to come back to assess the situation.
Based on the scared look on the guy’s face, I take it Robert isn’t here right now. He ends the call and slides the phone into his pocket and stares at the man with blond hair, shaking his head.
“I guess we have to take care of it ourselves then,” the man with the blond hair says.
“Hopefully, Robert will come back soon and there won’t be a huge mess for him to clean up.”
“I don’t think your little boss is coming back.”
The dark haired guy looks at me, tightening his jaw. “What did you say? Did I tell you to talk? No, I didn’t. So, move your ass toward the house.”
He shoves me forward and I laugh, counting out loud, “One ... two ... three …”
“What the hell are you—” The man’s words trail off as another gunshot goes off and I laugh harder, staring back at the blond guy.
“You better run.”
The man's eyes widen, and he glances around before his eyes meet mine again. “How are you doing that? Cut it out.” He points the gun to my head. “Call it off now. Make it stop.”
“It’s not me doing it and besides there’s no calling off a hitman. He won’t stop until the job is done.”
“Who won’t?” The man’s nerves cause the gun to shake in his hand.
A deep voice comes from a man walking out from behind the shed in a black mask. “Me.” The guy turns around, but before he fully faces the guy, a shot takes him down. The man walks closer, yanking his hood off. “Hola, hijo. Where is that uncle of yours? We have much to discuss.”
