Bratva Boss’s Secret Triplets by Bella King
Chapter 9
Rebel
My curiosity got the better of me. I had to go see April before watching the tapes. I should’ve been able to watch them before I left, but John took ages to pull them from the servers, and I ended up pacing around the office for hours, smoking like crazy until I finally had enough.
John assured me the tapes would be ready by the time I got back from April’s apartment.
They’d better be, or it’s his job on the line, and in the mafia, if you lose your job, you lose your life as well.
I pull out of the parking lot quickly, wondering what April made of my confrontation. She didn’t seem to have any clue what I was talking about, but I have a name to work with now, and I’m going to start digging into what she was really doing at the doctor’s office. If it was just to visit a friend – unlikely – then the name should clear things up.
Maria Addison.
I race through the evening traffic on the highway, swerving my car at speed that should make it lose traction with the pavement, but I had it outfitted with racing tires. They’ll grip the road at any speed, and it’s easy to outrun the police or just about any motherfucker who wants to challenge me to a race.
I live for the thrill.
It’s a gift and a curse because thrill is what got me so high in life, but it’s also what can make you fall in an instant. One wrong move, and the towering castle of cards comes tumbling down. I’ve seen men fall before, and the pavement is awfully hard when you fall from so high up.
Hard enough to crack your skull open like a raw egg.
I grip the steering wheel tightly, slowing down only a few miles per hour at the thought of accidently smearing myself across the pavement in a traffic accident. It’s not enough to make a difference, but it’s the illusion that counts. Everyone lives in illusions whether they’re aware of it or not. Mine just involve a greatly increased risk of bodily injury.
I make it back to the office in good time, breezing through security at the front without having to show ID and making my way to my office. If John isn’t there waiting for me, I’m literally going to murder him.
To my surprise and slight disappointment, John is waiting in my office with a TV remote in his hand and a slight smirk on his thin face. “The tapes are ready when you are,” he says.
“It’s about damn time,” I snarl, walking up to him and snatching the remote from his hand. I point it at a flatscreen TV that takes up the entire wall beside my desk, and it turn on immediately, displaying the beginning on the video footage from early this afternoon.
“The cause of death was strangulation,” John says as I press play.
“I didn’t ask,” I reply dryly. “Please leave so that I can watch this in peace.”
His head droops considerably in disappointment, but he turns away quickly to leave the room. He knows better than to test me. I’m pissed off enough as it is, and I’m looking for a place to take out my aggression.
April would’ve been nice. I remember how good it felt the first time that I pumped her full of my load. She took it hard and deep, and the sounds that she made were nothing short of divine. I’d like to have her again, but first I need to figure out whose side she’s on, if she’s on any at all.
I stand in front of the TV instead of sitting in my chair, laser focused on the video playing. There’s no audio, so I can’t hear what’s being said, but it seems that the prisoner has caught the guard’s attention.
I lean forward, looking at each pixel on the screen as something rolls underneath the door to the cell. The guard leans down to pick it up, then immediately jumps back as though it were scalding hot. Shaking his hand, he barges back to the door and fumbles with his keys, eager to get it unlocked.
Once unlocked, the door flies open, knocking him to the floor. Someone zip tied to a chair shouldn’t be able to push a door open like that, but when I see the man leaving the room, I realize how he got free.
The prisoner isn’t a large man, but he moves with the power of someone triple his size. He’s on top of the guard in an instant, digging his thumbs into his eyes and wrapping his arms around his throat to choke him out. In a matter of just fifteen seconds, the guard is dead.
“What the fuck,” I mutter as the freed prisoner flies down the hallway, running at speeds a normal person wouldn’t be able to. He looks up at the camera as he passes it, but his face is just a blur.
I’ve seen people move like that before, but they were chock full of so much amphetamine that they were delirious. Luring a guard out from their post would be too complicated for someone on that large of a dose, but he’d need to be in order to take down a three hundred pound tank of a man.
I shake my head. This is seriously fucked up. Whatever that man took in his cell allowed him to break free from his chair, take down a guard using only his hands, and flee the premises fast enough not to be caught on the way out.
I rewatch the video, trying to identify the object that was slid under the door. Whatever it was, it must’ve been important enough for the guard to want to enter the cell. It’s difficult to identify what it is, but after a rewinding and reviewing the tape a dozen or so times, I realize that it’s a piece of a zip tie, perhaps melted apart by a lighter.
No wonder the guard opened the door. The prisoner was showing that he had already escaped from the chair, taunting him into coming in so that he could finish escaping.
Insane. I don’t know any drugs on the market right now that can give a man that much power, not without him simultaneously losing his mind. There must be something new floating around, or that crazy motherfucker has a training regimen that throws shade at Navy SEALs.
It only takes me a moment to find the connection between the drugged-up lunatic that we captured and the OB-GYN clinic that Alan tipped me off about. If there’s a new drug on the market, it’s possible that it’s being produced using something there.
I might not be a chemist, but I’ve done enough drugs in my time to have a pretty decent understanding of how they work. I’ve partaken in basically every category of drug, and one thing I’ve learned for sure is that there are absolutely “good drugs” and “bad drugs”.
Good drugs make you happy, make colors and music more vibrant, and might even help you learn something about yourself if you take enough.
Bad drugs are the kind that make the user go completely berserk. Whatever the fuck is coming out of that lab is definitely a bad drug for two reasons: one, it’s clearly a concentrated stimulant, and it gives the user unregulated strength. Two, if put into the wrong hands, it could easily be misused and faces will be eaten.
Bath salts were a bad enough trend. Why can’t people just do ecstasy and call it a day?
I’m going to be paying April another visit tomorrow to see if she knows anything else, but first, I need to find out whether this Maria Addison she was supposedly meeting at the doctor’s is even a real person. It might be a coincidence that she was there, but I doubt it.
In my line of work, coincidences almost always have reasons behind them, and I don’t like it when people hide things from me. April had better come clean, or I’m going to make her life pure hell.
