“You sure we can’t just tie him up and torture the sick fuck to death?” Max asks as we duck across the road to Jake Mulcahy’s house under the cover of night.
“Don’t give him fucking ideas, Max,” Dante says with a sigh.
“Hey, I’m good with the plan,” I assure him. “No sense having to dispose of a cop’s dead body when we have enough information to scare the fuck shitless.” I’m not lying; I will stick to the plan. But I intend to deal with the twisted piece of shit my way in the future.
“Kitchen light’s on. You think he’s in there?” Max asks as he and I jog around to the back of the house while Dante goes to the front. We climb over the fence and drop to the grass below with a soft thud.
Max grins. “Well, let’s go say hello.”
We break in through the back and find Jake Mulcahy bent over his kitchen table, eating a microwave lasagna when Max and I stroll into the room. “What the fuck?” he snarls, scrabbling to get up and reach for his gun on the counter. But Max is too quick. He has Jake in a headlock before the prick can even get off his ass. We pull his arms behind his back and make short work of tying him to the chair.
Once he’s secure, Max releases his hold on Jake’s neck. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he seethes, wrestling against his restraints.
“You know who we are,” I remind him as I take a seat.
“You won’t get away with this. I’m a fucking decorated cop,” he spits.
“We haven’t done anything we need to get away with, Jakey.” Max perches on the edge of the table. “Not yet, anyway.”
“We only want to talk.” That’s bullshit. I want to rip his fucking throat out. But not tonight.
Dante walks into the kitchen, placing the lock he’s just removed from Jake’s front door on the table. “You might want to get that looked at. Came right off in my hands.”
“Fuck you!” Jake snarls.
Max backhands him across the face. “Don’t ever speak to Mr. Moretti like that again, fuck-nugget.”
Jake spits blood on the floor and glares at us with contempt. The stupid fucker doesn’t know how lucky he is that he’ll still be breathing when we walk out of here.
“Like I said, we only want to talk,” I repeat.
“So talk,” he snaps but there’s a tremor in his voice now. As though he’s only just realized the severity of his situation.
“I want you to stay away from Mia,” I start.
“She killed my fucking brother,” he says, his voice dripping with venom.
I glance at Max, and he punches Jake in the mouth. We agreed I wouldn’t lay a finger on the horrible fuck in case I couldn’t stop.
“As I was saying, you will stay away from Mia. You will drop this bullshit about your waste-of-oxygen brother, and you will never even think her name again. Understand?”
Beads of perspiration trickle down his forehead. “And if I refuse?”
“How about I cut you open from scrotum to nose, fuck-nugget?” Max asks, kicking Jake’s chair and making him flinch.
“You’d never fucking get away with it,” Jake insists. “I’m not some street punk you can make disappear.”
I made your brother disappear, you stupid fuck! The words want to roll off my tongue, but I hold them back. I’ll tell him when I return for his life. “I think you’ll find we can make anyone disappear,” I say instead. “But fortunately for you, my colleague here won’t need to gut you like a fish to stop you from talking.”
He eyeballs me but doesn’t say anything.
“All we have to do is release the statement your sister gave us. All about what a warped, evil little fuck you are. Your life as you know it would be over.”
His face turns whiter than the fridge directly behind him.
“Michaela’s even willing to press charges should we ever need to provide you with a little more encouragement. You know there’s no statute of limitations for rape in Boston, right?”
“You’re lying,” he snarls, but his lip wobbles and he’s sweating profusely now.
“No. We had a good chat with her. And of course there’s DNA evidence of your crimes. Did you know she had your child? A son. He knows nothing about the depraved fucker who sired him though.”
“Fuck you!”
I push my chair back and he flinches. I need to cause him a little pain, just so he has a taste of what’s coming to him one day. I grab his limp dick and squeeze. He wheezes and tears spring to his eyes. “Drop the vendetta against Mia or I will release that statement. And if she ever has to see your ugly goddamn face, hear your voice, or if anything happens to her because of you for the rest of her days”—I squeeze harder, tempted to pull the goddamn thing off with my bare hands—“we will come back here and we will slice off every single part of your anatomy piece by fucking piece. Until you’re nothing but a head on a fucking torso. And then I will pour battery acid into your fucking eyes and watch you burn from the inside out, you disgusting fuck! You got me?”
Unable to speak from the pain of having his junk crushed, he nods.
“Good.” I walk out of his kitchen before my restraint snaps, leaving Max and Dante to untie him. Glancing back at the house, I swear that I will return. And next time I’ll come alone.
