Risqué by Elena M. Reyes

19

“What are you going to do to me?” Felix asks, his body dragging backwards, and I make no move to follow him. He will come. He will accept his judgment. “Please, let’s be reasonable. We can work something out.”

“Come here.”

“Callum—”

“If any of us have to grab you, it will be worse.” Taking the item out of the black bag, I test the weight in my hand and check the leather used. It’s not like mine back home. No. This one doesn’t have the added touch of a madman, but it’ll inflict plenty of pain.

One snap of my wrist and it unfurls, the whip snapping against the dirty concrete. The sound is loud, meant to spike his fear, and Felix throws up. Hunching over, he empties his stomach and I scrunch up my nose. Disgusting.

“Would you like me to fetch him, Mr. Jameson?” Archie asks, coming back inside. He wipes his brow and eyes the man with a mixture of pity for the lad and ire. Every person in our organization, from the tenured to the newest guard, has felt the death of Aunt Penelope. “Ezra called to make sure we are on schedule, and he’s waiting for the signal.”

“He worries a lot.” Casper’s traded the gun in his lap for one of his Karambits. “Send him a message with new airport ETA. An extra two hours today should be enough.”

“Yes, sir.”

Turning back to the man on his arse, I see he’s still trying to crab crawl back and failing. His dodged-up knee, thigh, and hand are an impediment he can’t escape. “Last chance, De La Vega.” A warning he doesn’t heed, and I flick my eyes to an eager Casper. “You get two shots.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

“I try, you arse.”

The wanker doesn’t answer; he’s too busy looking at the man. For a few minutes neither moves, my cousin waiting, and when Felix whimpers, the Karambit breaks through the air and slices a clean cut across his left shoulder before landing on the ground.

Because that’s the beauty of that knife: it’s bloody sharp. The skin parts, the flesh having given way, and what’s left is a deep gash that bleeds at a high rate.

“That’s one.” I’m admiring his work, ignoring the way Felix screams and writhes before picking up the knife. It’s in his grip, but the twat doesn’t know how to place his fingers, much less how to angle the blade for a more accurate slice.

“All I’m going to take.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Blood loss is a bitch and Felix is beginning to show a bit of fatigue, the Karambit slipping through his loose grip. He’s bled quite a bit from each wound, and when he attempts to stand with his uninjured hand extending the knife out, it doesn’t last. Instead, he stumbles, and Archie comes back in time to grab him.

Felix thrashes, tries to fight back, but is quickly outmaneuvered and taken to a deviant little section Casper’s acquaintance keeps here. Every apparatus back here is for discipline, to keep the recipient in place, and I chose the bench to start.

His body’s bare except for the pair of boxers we’ve left on him. His feet are stepping on an array of broken glass that’s kept inside of a built-in wooden box for added punishment.

He shuffles, tries to push the shards aside to save the bottom of his feet, but the first strike of my whip remedies that. It slices through the air, connecting with his back while leaving a sharp welt behind that quickly blisters.

“Fuck!” he screams, fighting his bonds, back arching yet the limited space keeps him in place. The blubbering starts at once, and it’s disappointing. “Don’t. I’ll do…no!”

The second lash strikes from his right shoulder to the middle of his spine, this one breaking the skin, and the surrounding flesh turns red. “Why did you do it?”

“No more.”

“Why did you do it?” I ask again, gifting him the third and fourth before delivering the fifth over the back of his thigh. The sounds coming from the man’s throat are horror-filled and full of pain, loud and a little soothing to me. “If I have to ask again, I’m going to play the eye removal game. Count each strike across your face until I hit the orb at just the right angle to make you lose it. Your choice.”

“I’ll talk,” leaves him on a pathetic whimper.

“Then do so.” This time, the whip’s tip hits his injured shoulder. “Convince me you’re worth one more day.”

“Mauricio is in the Caribbean but moves around a lot. He has homes in Jamaica, Puerto Rico, Dominican Republic, and Cuba. There’s also Guatemala, Honduras, and Belize. That’s just to name a few.” He swallows hard, his teeth chattering as the pain peaks. “H-he’s been a hitman since his early twenties and is smart, too smart to get caught easily.”

“When did you meet, and where?”

“I need water.” Each word is spoken between clenching teeth, but the way his body shakes is an indicator that he’s breaking. He’ll either pass out or lose control of his bodily functions. “My throat.”

And to keep him alert, I flick my wrist and the leather snaps across his right flank. “Answer the question, lad. Don’t test my patience.”

His head nods, legs shaking. “We met in Miami while I was on vacation. He was close to a trafficker there.”

“Who?”

“The Villegas, but they’re all dead. Killed by the reigning family now: the De Leon’s.”

“Okay.” Tilting my head toward Archie, I signal to the bottle at his feet. It’s hot, has been sitting in the sun all day prior to this, but it’s water. “Hold it up to his lips.” Archie does so, and when that first sip lands on his tongue, Felix gags. He tries to reject it, but I nod, and Archie lets the entire one-liter tip and pour onto his mouth or face. “Thank you.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Felix, thank you for the information so far.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“I’m sure you would, but finish answering my earlier question. Why?”

From the corner of my eye, I catch Casper move closer. In his hand, he has his favorite toy once more. He’s worse than I am with my whip. “Go ahead.”

Quietly, he gets behind Felix and waits. The man is unaware, or maybe he isn’t. Doesn’t matter as a few tense seconds later, he begins to speak. “They offered me a lot of money to do so. More than Mauricio and I have ever been offered for one job, and we took it without pause.”

“How much was your cut?” I ask, placing the whip down just long enough to take my vest off and crack my neck.

“Half a million.”

“And that was worth a woman’s life?”

“It was never supposed to be his mama. His father or uncle, but not his mother.”

“Then why protect Mauricio Hernandez?” Casper’s voice tone is cold. His muscles flex, coiling as if he were an animal ready to strike. “Answer me.”

“I didn’t—”

“Liar,” my cousin snaps, gripping the back of Felix’s head, hair in a tight grip while he digs the tip of his Karambit down his back in a long and straight line. Then, he creates a half circle on the top of the line, the corners touching and turning his mark into a large letter ‘P’—his mother’s initial. “You hid him. You bought his plane ticket out and brought in others to help him escape our wrath.”

“N-no. I-I swear…I-I didn’t.”

My cousin lets him go and steps back. “Enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks, brother.” A tsking sound escapes me while Felix blubbers and begs. His cries and pleas fall on deaf ears. “Liars never make it into the kingdom of heaven.”

I show no more mercy.

We knew his moves, motives, and connections.

We just wanted him to voice it out loud. To be a man and admit it.

This time as the whip’s leather snaps against his back, I don’t pause or let him breathe. Each strike is brutal, cutting and breaking flesh as his life’s essence splatters after each precise lash. Some lands on my skin, some on the ground and the equipment within. There’s no counting or spoken words inside the room as his screams of pure agony go from loud to unintelligible blubbers—from begging to silence as he loses consciousness and Felix’s body goes limp.

He’s a mess. Broken. Bloodied.

The last two from my whip land at the back of his head, and when it bounces, just a slight rebound that leaves behind a thick welt on the shaved bottom half of his skull, I step back.

It’s a disgusting scene to most. The torn flesh and rivulets of red that flow down and to the ground, creating a puddle at his feet.

To me, though, it’s poetic. He deserves so much more, but I know this isn’t enough for my cousin, and I have a gift of my own.

I turn my gaze to Archie. “Get him cleaned up and as stable as possible before we leave.”

“Leave? Where are you—”

“Alexander’s on his way to finish this, cousin.” His smile widens and nods in approval. Alexander is Aurora’s bodyguard for a reason, and it’s his brutality that’s kept him under our employ for so long. He has no boundaries nor empathy, and he’ll give De La Vega an ending he deserves. “And don’t worry about Gem. I moved someone there already, and Archie will be in charge until Alexander returns.”

“Thank you.”

“None needed.” Walking to him, I clasp his shoulder and squeeze. “Just don’t forget to videotape it. We’ve got plans for it.”

“We do?”

“We do.”

Casper never askedme why I took off or where I was off to, but I do send a text when I land.

Twenty-four hours. ~Callum J.

His response is just as fast, and nothing more than okay before I pocket my mobile. I’m turning my locator off, but the device will stay on until I’m back in the air and across international waters just in case something goes wrong.

No one but Ezra knows where I’m at or why, but he’ll erase every proof of our—my—being on US soil before sending a second plane for my private use. I’d left Casper with the other. The government doesn’t need that kind of information, not while investigating that bullshit wire fraud case, and Malcolm helped by letting me use his private jet and airstrip to land in Chicago after cleaning off Felix’s filth in the meantime.

He’s also moved our money again. Every cent. Something that gives security to our suppliers back home.

The tarmac is empty when I arrive, except for Kray who waits outside his large SUV. Once I’m close, he pushes off and holds out a hand. “Good to have you back,” he says, and I take it, shaking it quickly before tilting my head toward the car.

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen Aliana. A day feels like too many, and although she understands that duty binds me this once, I need to see her. The daily reports that Giannis turns in are shit in comparison to being near her.

They don’t fill that void, this ever-growing need that I can’t contain.

“Aliana’s home tonight. It’s been a busy time at the center, and she seems exhausted.” This I knew; Giannis has told me as much. Seems the last few weeks they’ve had an influx at the Conte House, and she’s been working late to help Aurora. “Is there anywhere you want to stop first, or…?”

“Straight to her house.”

“Done.” After a minute, he begins to thump his fingers on the steering wheel, and I know why. I’m waiting for what I know is coming. Kray settles after a minute, exhaling roughly. “I’m sorry, Callum. I let you down.”

“Am I angry? Yes,” I say, resting my head back with eyes closed. “However, they were at work. They take risks every day to help women in need, and I understand that. You stepped in and removed him the moment you realized what was happening.”

Kray chuckles and I raise a brow. “Miss Rubens emptied a can of mase on his face. Direct hit.”

“That’s my girl.”

“I was on my way in when he ran out and into me. Those women are exemplary—tough.”

“But…”

“It won’t happen again. I’m working on an idea to have someone on the inside.”

“Smart. Let me know when you have the specifics.”

We don’t talk the rest of the way. With each turn the vehicle takes and the closer to her home we get, my body thrums. It’s a different kind of energy. Just as pleasurable as taking a life, but with the memory of her taste still lingering in my mind, I’m throbbing.

Hungry. Pulsing.

A heady feeling that almost compares to taking a life, and yet, this one is more. It’s everything.

The street where her townhome sits looms close, and I notice Giannis outside when I pull up. He doesn’t say anything when I exit, but simply nods and then gets into a vehicle with a man I recognize as his better half. They drive away, and Kray does the same.

I want no one around.

No interruptions.

There are twenty-four hours between this trip and my return to England, and I just want her.

I’m at her door before both cars turn right at the stop sign down the street, my fist pounding on her door. Five hard knocks, and nothing. No sound. But when I raise my fist once more, I hear that melodic voice.

“I’m coming!” my Venus yells, her feet stomping toward the door before yanking it open. “Giannis, for the love of God, I just want a quiet night and—” Aliana stops abruptly after I clear my throat. She’s in a cute romper set with a towel wrapped in her hair, a warm flush covering her peach scented skin, and staring at me with wide eyes and plush lips in the perfect shape of an “O.”

“I’ve missed you too, love.”