Page 74 of Vengeful Eyes
My wrists twitch in the bonds, quietly trying to move the cable ties around. They’re tight, but not enough so that I can’t get some leverage against them. There’s nothing of use in this room. A few more chairs and some old scattered containers, signs of wear on the innards of this ship.
We were together for the ride over here. I watched Quinn and Nathan in a pissing contest with some of the men. Didn’t work. The fucking riot that erupted nearly had two Yakuza scum over the side. We were separated after that, and I was hauled through the decks, no sign of the other two before I was dumped. Alone.
It’s fucking monotonous.
After a while some noise starts out in the corridors around this room. Footsteps echo through the walls, quick and hurried. At least six sets of them, two of them dragging their asses and making the movement hard work. I’d smirk if I dared give myself away. The Cane boys are obviously making themselves felt. Still, I don’t move. I’m not moving a goddamn muscle until it’s useful to me. They’re alive. It’s a good start.
Then the goddamn door opens, finally, one man’s heavy footfalls coming in from behind me somewhere. I stay latched onto the view in front of me, eyes directed at some rusting remnants of an old dividing wall in the space. He wanders around in front of me, a suit showing some fucking pretence of importance.
“The great Benjamin Vico.” Yeah, that’s me. “Not such a concern after all. She said you might be, but here you are.” My hands twist in the bonds a little again, trying to manoeuvre my wrists to where I can reach. “No point pretending. I know the drugs will be wearing off now.” I’ll give him something then. My eyes turn to look at him slowly, head moving slightly. The fact these fucks had to drug me should prove a point. Didn’t see them drugging the Cane boys. “Talking yet?” No.
Not to a goddamn monkey anyway.
I stare, eyes like fucking slits because this cunt is getting all kinds of fucked up before I leave. He’s one of those pompous asses, chest puffed out like he owns the world. He doesn’t.
“My name is Andreas Alves.” By the look of his smug grin, that’s supposed to mean something to me. It doesn’t, other than the fact that this must be the brother of Nate’s woman. Yakuza scum is all he is to me, an American who defected. Sad fuck.
He pulls one of the chairs up and comes closer, his beady eyes attempting to threaten me in some way as he sits. Self-important dick. If I thought it useful, I’d rip his fucking head off his shoulders. “How does it feel to be so vulnerable, Vico?”
I look around the room, noting there’s nobody else here to help him. He should ask himself the same fucking question.
“Your woman was useful to me.” The goddamn statement zones me in on him. He smiles and leans back, apathy entrenched into his features. “At least the Yakuza have some of the money back from the drugs you provided. Sure, she’ll get the rest back from the Canes soon.” I couldn’t give a fuck about the money.
It’s fucking inopportune for the door to crash open behind me again, a brawl of noise coming as more feet storm in. Nathan’s body is pushed across the room, Quinn’s coming quickly afterwards. I don’t look. I keep staring at this fuck instead. If he laid one damn hand on her, I'll slit his throat and drink his blood.
He chuckles and rises from his seat, dragging it away to put it by the far wall next to another. The boys are put in them, their wrists bound like mine, but thankfully not locked to the chair. I glance at them then. Their faces are fucked up, knuckles too. They got some shots in then. Amusing.
Quinn scowls at me, his eyes searching mine to see if I’m back in control of my limbs yet. Lucky for him, I am. Not that anyone else has a goddamn idea of it.
Three guys stand off to the side as Andreas moves around the space, all of them with weapons aimed. Astute given the three of us. My wrists manoeuvre around again, beads finally in my fingers enough for me to get some traction on the cable tie.
“Benjamin.” A woman’s voice.
I frown and move my eyes to the sound of her steps coming from the side, heels echoing her stride. She stops in front of me, a smile on her face, as she looks me over. Cute. I should fuck it before I kill it. “You made a mess of my office.”
I’m gonna do it again in a minute.
“This could have been so much easier than you’ve made it. We wanted co-operation, not all this.” I don’t co-operate, not with cunts who threaten my ass “The Canes made that mistake, too.” Seems they won to me.
I smirk, amused at the amount of money they stole from this bitch. “You got that money back yet?” I mutter, flicking my eyes to Nathan. His brow goes up. Clearly not. She laughs.
“I don’t need it back. Look what I have instead. Who is ready to take over for you now that your second is dead? I enjoyed making sure he was killed. A second is always problematic.” Bitch. “And with you all dead and buried,” she says, spinning slowly to look at the boys and backing her way towards me, “both Chicago and New York should be easy enough to manage. All of it under Yakuza control with no one to argue anymore.”
Quinn growls and rattles his seat, grating it against the ship’s wall. Presumably he's pissed about the Chicago comment. I'm more bothered about my own city.
Mine. Fuck her.
She nods at one of the men. He brings her a chair, then walks over and cracks the butt of his weapon on Quinn’s head hard enough that he topples out of his seat. I watch his body, hoping he’s not out cold. Seems fucking lifeless, though.
“I’m simply interested in seeing your reactions to the lies you’ve all been living with now,” she says, almost laughing. My gaze swings back to her as two of the men leave the room, Andreas’ gun is now aimed at me. “Hell hath no fury. Isn’t that the saying?”
Fucking silence then. She just stares at me as if waiting for something.
All three of our women are suddenly dragged into the room, Hope with a gash on the side of her face. One of the men shoves Gabby to the floor. She immediately looks to Andreas, venomous eyes on show as she launches up at him and starts rallying off in Spanish. It's a floor show for a minute, arms and hands trying to rip him to bits, but he eventually slaps her back to the floor, no fucking care for his family. I couldn’t give a damn what they do. Only Hope’s well-being matters in all this.
I stare at her, checking her state. She’s unharmed from what I can see, but all that attitude I’ve seen from her lately is gone. She doesn’t even look at me. She looks at the floor, eyes tired and red like she’s been crying.
“Tell them,” the woman says, smiling still. My wrist hitches around again as Andreas moves closer to me, his gun still poised and ready to do damage. The toughened wire in my beads loops around the cable tie on my sixth attempt, enough purchase in it that I can start sawing it back and forth quietly. Quinn moans, a grunt coming as he tries to pull himself upright. Good. Whatever the fuck this is, I need him awake and with it. Still, I stay fixed on Hope as one of the men shoves her into the middle of the room. Nothing comes out of her mouth.
