Chapter Five

Braxton

 

The knife at Milo’s throat sure as shit sobered him up fast. His eyes, which had been half-hooded only moments earlier in the diner, were as round as saucers before a cloth bag gets shoved over his head.

He knows…

A chill weaves its way through my bones as the truck barrels down the West Side Highway, dodging cars in its path. Milo’s body trembles next to me, his loud whimpers piercing the heavy silence. His voice cracks, apologies sputtering from his lips. I’m tempted to pull off the thick black sack, but I resist. Sometimes the fear of the unknown is more comforting than the reality.

Christ, Milo, I hope that three-way was worth it.

The truck careens off the highway and pulls into a darkened alleyway near the pier. There are a bunch of old warehouses back here, conveniently located right next to the Hudson River. The tires screech to a halt and the guys jump out of either side. One of them tosses me a roll of duct tape and nods toward Milo. I tear off a piece and wrap it around his mouth, over the cloth bag, to keep him quiet.

There isn’t a single soul in the vicinity to witness the atrocities that are about to be inflicted on Milo. He played a very dangerous game and lost. Now, it’s time for him to pay up. Even being a senior member of the organization doesn’t carry any weight in this situation. There’s nothing I can do or say to stop it. He fucked up, plain and simple.

Franco, the driver, hooks an arm under Milo’s chin and drags him around a corner and into the back door of a deserted warehouse. Augie, the short, stocky thug who’d ridden shotgun, grabs a long black body bag out of the trunk, the contents clanging on the metal floor of the van, and hoists it over his shoulder.

His eyes narrow as they slowly rake over the length of my body, leading me to believe he either wants to fuck me or kill me. I’d never worked with him before, but the way his lips curl into a grimace has me wondering exactly who they’re whacking today. Embracing this life means you never really know who’s got your back or who’s ready to pummel you with a tire iron. Rank has no benefit.

Augie pulls open the door to the warehouse and nods at me. “Come on. You’re up next.”

The sudden pounding between my temples drowns out all sound. I try to swallow, but nothing gets through the lump that is now blocking my airway. The implication of his words attacks my mind like a flesh-eating bacteria. What the fu—?

“Relax, paisano.” He lets out a hearty chuckle and shakes the bag. “We’re cool. Didn’t mean to make you piss yourself. I just meant it’s your stage. We all wanna see what you’re made of, to find out if the legend fits the man.”

Fuck. They’re gonna make me do the hit. I watch Augie hoist the bag over his shoulder and saunter into the warehouse, looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like he isn’t carrying multiple torture devices that will be used to suck the life out of a man who’d committed the heinous crime of dipping his wick in a pool of pussy otherwise designated for paying customers.

On second thought, why should he be anything other than relaxed? He isn’t murdering anyone this morning.

The air inside is stagnant, infused with the stink of fish and urine, soon to be complimented by the stench of death. Bile rises in my throat. It never gets easier. Each time, I pray it’ll be the last, that Vergara will fuck up royally so I can pull the fucking trigger and save myself from drowning in deceit.

Maybe tomorrow.

“Brax!” Franco straightens up after tightening the thick rope around Milo’s wrists. I can see droplets of red soaking through the restraints. My heart thumps in time with his screams. I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing out the image of my father sitting in the very same spot, about to suffer the same fate as Cadence. I’d begged him to stay away from them, to let the authorities handle the investigation. But he couldn’t let go, not after they’d murdered his only daughter in cold blood. How many more notches will it cost me to avenge the death of my sister and the destruction of my family? I’ve let so many people down already. Seeing Milo crumble forward, hearing his high-pitched wails pierce the putrid air, makes my past rush back, crashing over me like a fucking tsunami. I thought I could make things right after Dad and Cadence were killed, but instead, I’ve put more people in danger, including the one person I love more than anything. She’s the one who needs my protection from people like me who are playing a role, monsters hiding in the shadows, ready to take what isn’t theirs, all for a person who doesn’t value their lives. They all made choices, albeit bad ones. I’m guilty of the same. Redemption? It’s always been just beyond my reach. I don’t deserve it, but I need it. Christ, I need it so badly.

“Yeah.” I choke out the reply, my back stiff. The last thing I need is for any of them to question the shit I’m desperate to hide – all the conflicting emotions that have been eclipsing my original directive for the past six weeks. So I inch closer to Milo and pull the cloth off his head. His shoulders quake as the panic sets in. Sweat gathers around the neck of his t-shirt and on the front, forming large patches that stick to his thick chest, his knees bouncing uncontrollably. Tears stream down his flushed face, his breathing erratic. I grit my teeth. He’s not a bad guy, but he crossed the wrong people, and for what? A dirty fuck that turned out to be with the grim reaper. When you cross swords with the devil, you always get slashed, something I found out a long time ago when the cops found my dad, mauled to the point he was practically in pieces, rolled up in a rug at the nearby dump.

I rub the knot taking residence in the base of my neck. My heart thuds when Augie kicks the bag over to me. “Go ahead, man. Pick your poison.”

I can’t look at Milo as I fall to my knees and feel around the inside of the bag. Wrenches, hammers, metal bats, an axe…

Don’t fucking lose your shit now, Brax. There’s too much riding on this. If you screw up, they’ll go to Vergara. They’ll find Loren.

They’ll know.

“Please, Brax! Don’t do this! I didn’t mean anything by it! Please, let me talk to Sal and Gaetano, let me ask them for another chance!” Milo’s begging has transformed into full-blown hysterics.

I swallow hard, my fingers closing around the Louisville Slugger. Blunt force trauma should do the trick. A more humane punishment than my dad received. The lump in my throat is damn-near choking me as his bloody and bruised face floats in front of my eyes. I blink quickly to eradicate the hallucination, Milo’s face returning to view.

Franco appears over me, wordlessly cocking an eyebrow at my selection.

“He’s been my fucking partner for the past year. A little mercy?” I hiss.

“So, maybe you should be sitting next to him, since you’ve let this shit go for the past year?”

I rise to my full height, which is at least five inches taller than Franco. My fingers tighten around the base of the bat. “Don’t tell me how to do my job.” My eyes narrow to slits. “Or else you’ll be next.”

I can see Augie circling Milo, eying him like a tiger stalking its prey. “Hey Brax, if you’re too much of a pussy to take care of this motherfucker, I’m sure I can find the right tools that’ll do the job. Maybe Sal needs to hear how one of his top guys is going soft. I bet he’ll wanna take care of that shit. You know what I’m sayin’?”

I push past Franco, launch my arm back, and unleash all the pent-up anger simmering beneath the surface. My fist connects with Augie’s jaw in a satisfying crack. He stumbles backward into the cement wall, collapsing to the floor in a puddle of something so noxious, it makes my stomach twist. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that. I’ll slice you six ways to Sunday if you so much as look at me ever again.” I clench the bat, my knuckles torn and bloody from the punch that landed a two hundred and fifty pound sack of shit on his ass.

I lean down so my face is directly in front of Milo’s. “You disappointed me, Milo. You knew this would lead to a dead end, and you defied me.”

“Give me another chance, Brax,” he sputters. “Don’t do this. We’re partners, man.”

A shiver shimmies down my spine with the next words utter. My voice is cold enough to freeze the air between us. “You’re only as good to this organization as your ability to follow the rules. But you let your dick make them instead. Your choices have cost us too much, and you can’t be trusted anymore.”

Milo’s head drops, tears landing on the front of his jeans, mixed with blood from the contusions courtesy of Franco. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“I know,” I whisper back, squeezing my eyes shut to block out the image of my father sitting in the very same position. He’d begged for mercy, just like Milo. Just like so many before him. My plans had failed. Every life I claim…none of them bring back what I’d lost so long ago, none of them get me closer to the peace that continues to elude me.

But the slightest hesitation puts me in Milo’s spot, and there is still one life out there for me to protect. Until I can erase all threats to our future, I have to follow the rules, or I’ll be getting the shit kicked out of me come morning.

With a deep breath, I stand up and swing the bat at his head. Blood spurts from the large gash where I’ve split the side of his face. I hammer it down over his head, making his eyes bulge from the sockets. The chair tips over from the force of his weight and he lands on the floor, his mangled face smashing into the wet concrete. The swelling is almost immediate, and within seconds, his face is barely recognizable. 

Franco tosses me the wrench, a taunting smirk spreading across his pockmarked face. “Do it, Brax. Fuck him up for all that pussy he took, that greedy bastard.”

My eyes fall to Milo. His body twitches, blood gushing from his nose, eyes, and skull. Death is close, imminent. It’s likely his swollen brain can’t feel the pain anymore, so I lean down, fist his hair to pull him off the floor, and swing the wrench across his face…once, twice, and a third time at the base of his skull before I let his head fall to the ground. It lands with a crack. His body no longer quivers, his life completely extinguished. And for what? A hot piece of ass? Or the thrill of the forbidden?

Augie creeps forward and kicks Milo’s bloodied head. “Scumbag deserved to die.”

“Let’s get him bagged up. I’ve got weights in the truck.” Franco uses a knife to slice off the restraints.

“I’ll get them.” I leap to my feet and grab the wall for balance as numbness creeps into my calves. I can’t get outside fast enough. The pungent air is a welcome change to the toxic air from which I’d just escaped. I stagger out the door, shielding my eyes from the bright sunlight peeking over the tops of the other dilapidated buildings. I crumble to my knees around the corner of the brick structure, allowing my stomach the freedom to revolt against the path I’d chosen, the one that threatens to extinguish the one bright spot I have left in this world. How ironic that I found love in the pits of hell where vengeance was my sole objective.