Redd

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“Hey stranger.” The scratchy voice called out from behind the bar, before the door even had time to close.

“You remember me?” I asked, tucking my hands into my pockets and walking towards the long counter.

Tammy let out a chuckle, stuffing a towel into a glass and drying it out. Turning it upside down, she sent me a half smile. “I never forget a face, that's part of my appeal.”

Nodding, I smirked back. “Well, I'll have to remember that.”

“What can I get for you? Scotch, no ice?”

“No, I'm not here for that.” Leaning forward, I bent my chest over the bar. “I'm actually here to see Pierre. Is he around?”

“Pierre? What do you need him for?” Her brows furrowed, jaw crooking as she eyed me curiously. “Are you looking to join? Because I can take care of that for you.”

“No, I just need a word with him. Is he here?” I already knew he was, but I didn't want to concern her by getting pushy.

Thinning her lids, Tammy wiped her hands against a dark blue towel. “He's in the back, I'll go grab him for you.”

Slapping the bar, I stood up straight. “Actually, the privacy would be good. Can I go back and see him?”

Rolling her lips around, something about her demeanor changed. She looked uncomfortable in my presence, as if I was suddenly someone she shouldn't be talking to. “Let me go see what he wants to do.” Starting towards the back door, she stopped short and cocked her head over her shoulder. “Who am I saying is here?”

“Redd, you can tell him Redd is here.”

“Redd, got it. Give me a sec.”

Disappearing behind the old rickety door, I walked to the end of the bar and waited. I had no idea that night when I first came here, that this bar would be the center stage of what was coming.

Owned and ran by Pierre Garrel, a French immigrant who moved here over twenty years ago. From what Bijou had told me, he lived an honest life. But when she mentioned this place, and I remembered the men that were here, I knew Bijou didn't have a clue. Those men hadn't been here by chance, this was a small piece of Diablo's empire. It was the connection between Diablo and her father, and I was ready to learn why.

Pierre was holding up a thick veil, hiding this part of his life from his family. Who knew how deep this really all went.

“Redd. . .” Tammy said, holding the door open. “You can go back, second door on the left.”

“Thanks.” Brushing past her, I gave her one last look over my shoulder. Her face was stoic, an emotionless pit that pretended to not see the whole picture. She stopped looking at me, quietly going back to work as if I hadn't been there.

But she knew, I could tell, she knew exactly what was going on here.

The tight hall was dark, illuminated under flickering bulbs. Walking down the corridor, I found the door she had directed me to.

A small plaque sat in the center, the word 'Office' was written in faded, gold lettering. Grazing the wood with the back of my knuckles, a man's voice called out from inside. “Come in.”

Pushing the door open, her father was sitting behind an old metal framed desk. The suit he had on was ash gray, with heavy leather patches cupping his elbows. His hair was brushed back, the white strands thinning so you could see the pink of his scalp.

Straightening the trim of his jacket, he ran his hands down his chest as he watched me close the door. Clasping his finger together, his eyes stilled, motionless and cautious. Papers were piled around him like towers, the mess melting off his desk and spilling onto the floor.

It didn't matter how calm and in control he wanted to appear—because he wasn't.

Thick lines created paths around his face, mimicking the harsh world he was living in. His fingers kept moving, fiddling and stroking nervously over each other as his knuckles whitened. The vein in his neck pulsed with his heartbeat, growing faster and harder as I stepped up to him.

He had no idea who I was or how concerned he should be with my presence. And I was more than glad to use that to my advantage.

“Have a seat.” Holding out his hand, he edged me down with an open palm. “Tammy, she says you want to talk. What can I do for you, Redd.” The accent in his voice was thick, highlighting single letters and elongating vowels.

Holding the back of the chair, I cleared my throat. My nerves started to skip, jumping and popping as a weird mix of adrenaline and uneasiness flooded my body. On the drive there, all I felt was anger, a bitter rage that made me hate her father as much as the man that had held her captive.

Bijou had told me about how Diablo had insinuated that her father was the one to put her there to begin with. I couldn't understand it, and I didn't want to believe that a parent would willingly subject their child to that kind of torture.

Then I thought of my father, and my beliefs changed. Maybe it was possible, maybe it all made sense when I put it together. The bar, the men. . . There was no other reason that fit.

It made me more furious than I had ever been before. What excuse could he possibly have for that?

And then I saw him, I saw the weathered look on his face. Tired eyes, deep sadness and depression spilling in from every corner; I almost felt sorry for him.

He looked like he had been living in a hell of his own.

Sitting quietly, he cupped his hands together on the top of the desk, and just stared at me. We both sat in silence, waiting for the other to break it. I had this whole plan in my head, about how I was going to shake him down, make him feel real bad about what he had done.

I wanted him to know exactly what he had done to his daughter, to feel it, to hate it, to want to fix it so badly he dropped to his knees and begged me for forgiveness.

But now. . . I didn't know where the hell to begin.

Lifting his thumbs, he shrugged his shoulders. “Are you looking for a job? A membership? What are you here for?”

Shaking my head no, I took in a deep breath and scrubbed my forehead. “No, nothing like that.”

Eyeing me, his lips curved down. “Then what are you here for?”

“I need to talk to you about someone.”

“Someone?” Pushing back in his seat, his lids lowered. “Did my daughter do something? Did Lila do something? If she did, I will—”

“Oh, no,” shaking my head, I sat taller in the chair. “Your daughter didn't do anything.”

Resting his hands on his round belly, he sighed with relief. “Okay, then who are we talking about? Do you have a complaint about one of my staff?”

Spit it out! Just fucking say it already!

“I'm here about someone else, and not someone that works for you.”

Rolling a hand in the air, Pierre shifted in his chair, giving me an awkward smile. “Look, we can play this cat and mouse game all day, or you can get to the point.” Firming his jaw, his eyes met mine. “Get to the point.”

Who are you really Pierre Garrel?

I felt like I was walking this fine line, trying to feel him out. There was a pit in my stomach, it crunched up tight and refused to ease up.

What if I don't like what I hear?

Would I kill him right here? Would I make it quick and fast and not let him suffer? Or would I drag it out, make him feel every ounce of pain as I tore his nails from the beds and stuffed them down his throat.

Did he have the ability to understand what he had done to his own daughter?

Fuck! Why is this so difficult?

Rocking my jaw back and forth, I stared him down. “Diablo.”

Pierre's face turned ghost white as his hands stilled and his breathing slowed down. “I don't know anything about him, I've already told another officer that.”

“I'm not a cop, Pierre.”

“Then why are you here asking me about that man? I have nothing to do with him.”

Don't lie to me. . . I don't like liars.

“Yes you do.” Arching a brow, I glared at him. “I'm going to warn you right now, this won't go well if you're just going to lie to me. I don't have to play nice.”

Growling, he threw his arm out, finger pointing to the door. “You can leave, if you're not a cop, then get the fuck out. And you can take that threat of yours and shove it.”

“I came here for answers. He hurt someone I care about, he hurt someone you should have cared about. I need to understand why, why you would do that.”

I'm talking about your daughter.

Never taking my eyes off him, I waited for some sign that he was thinking of Bijou. I wanted to see some emotion, a flicker of sympathy for his roll in this whole thing. All he had to do was show me he regretted what he had done, and I might have some mercy for this man.

His lips crinkled like a tight asshole, brows angling into his nose. “I don't know what you expect from me. I don't know who you are, and I don't know what the hell you're talking about.”

“Why did you do it?” Firming my chest, I leaned forward, laying my hands flat on the desk. “Why did you get involved with him?”

Snarling, he yelled, “Out!”

“What about your daughter?”

“You said my daughter had nothing to do with this.”

“Not her, your other daughter. . . Bijou.”

His muscles began to visibly shake, chest rising and falling with heavy gulps of air. “What about her? How do you know my daughter?”

“Why did you give her to Diablo?”

Rolling his shoulders forward, Pierre gripped his temples. “What do you want from me? Did he send you?” His eyes pleaded for forgiveness as he looked up at my face. “I don't know where she is, I already told him that. I'm not lying, I really haven't seen her.”

Son of a bitch. . . He really did put her there.

“I'm not here for him. . .” Squaring my jaw, I used everything I had to stay calm. “I'm here for her. Why did Diablo have her?”

Pounding the table with his fist, his lids popped open wide. “I don't know where she is! How many times do I have to tell you people that? What can I do to prove I'm telling the truth?”

He's not listening to me. It was easy to see he wasn't actually hearing a single word I was saying. Pierre had blocked me out.

“That's not the answer I'm looking for.” Collecting what patience I had left, I clutched it with all the strength I could muster up. He was getting lost in himself, in fear of his own mortality.

I didn't like that. He wasn't asking me about her, if she was alright, how long had she been missing. Not once had he shown a sliver of remorse and concern for her safety. I would be going nuts if it was Vicki. If someone had her for this long and I didn't know a damn thing, I'd be asking a hell of a lot more questions about her.

Why? What is Diablo hanging over your head?

There had to be a really good fucking reason that this father would turn over his daughter to a piece of shit. He better hope I think his reason is good.

“I don't know what you want from me. I've done everything that man has ever asked of me, and now this! I can't go on like this, I can't take it anymore!”

“What do you mean? What has he wanted from you?”

Pierre eyed me for a second, dropping his gaze to the desk. “You're really not one of his men. I never know, he has so many people working for him, watching me, watching everything I do.” Pushing thick fingertips into his forehead, he rubbed in a small circular pattern. “I never wanted this. I didn't have a choice, he never gave me a choice.”

“Pierre, I need to know why he had her. If I know, I might be able to help fix it.”

Grunting, he shifted in his seat, shoulders slumping like dead weight. “Yeah, that's what I thought too.”

Splaying an open palm on the desk, I tapped my fingers. “I know exactly where she is, Pierre.”

Slowly, his head lifted to mine, eyes wide. “How, how could you know?”

Leaning in closer, I whispered in a devious voice. “Because I'm the man that took her.”

I wasn't sure if that would piss him off or make him elated. I saw everything, but the one thing that mattered—remorse.

Fear, anger, unbridled emotion as his skin bristled and his face turned beet red. “You—you did this.” His jaw clenched as he spoke, teeth grinding into each word. “It's because of you that my family's life is in danger now.” Slamming both fists on the table, the muscles in his face twitched. “This is all because of you! I had it all under control and you fucked it up!”

That's your response? You berate me like I did something wrong?

I didn't lose my shit with him, I didn't get nervous or edgy. I became grounded. It was exciting for me in a twisted way. To watch as my presence got under his skin, to see him not know which way to look or what to say, but to clearly see that I had gotten a rise, that fed the sinister growth inside me.

That part was my father, it was his breath turning my blood to tar and creating the pleasure that brewed deep in my gut. Normally it made me sick to my stomach, but right there, right at that very moment, I cradled it like a lucky four leaf clover.

How dare he shove Bijou to the side like she doesn't matter!

Rising to my feet, I pressed my fingertips into the desk. “You gave your innocent child to a fucking murderous bastard. Tell me why?”

“It's not that simple. . .” Pierre arched his neck, looking up at me as shame turned his dark brown pupils into gray clouds. “I didn't have a choice.”

“Everyone has a choice, it doesn't matter what the situation is.” Baring my teeth, I veered my stare. “Don't give me that shit. You're a grown fucking man, you make your own decisions.”

His fingers dug into his thighs, gripping the fabric of his gray suit. The stress he felt melted off his skin, dropping large beads of sweat over his temples. “You don't understand.”

“Oh I understand—” Throwing a finger in his face, I brought myself in as close as I could get. “You're too much of a fucking pussy to handle your own problems. Instead of fixing what was broken, you took the easy way out and gave up your daughter. What kind of father are you?”

His eyes turned to glass, flashing with affliction. “I tried, I really tried. But he was going to kill them all, he said he would kill them and make me watch. I did what I thought was right—”

Cutting him off, I couldn't stand to listen to his pathetic excuse. “You tried?” Snatching the collar of his suit, I yanked him into the desk, allowing millimeters to separate us. I wanted him to know exactly what he had put on her, everything that he had given to her by saying three measly letters—yes.

Does he have any idea how that changed her?

“Let me tell you exactly what you did.” Through clenched teeth, I bitterly spat in his face. “Your decision got your daughter beaten, she was held in a fucking closet, scarred, burned. . .” Sadness washed over him, painting his gaze in liquid guilt. “And. . .” I couldn't say it.

He had no fucking clue.

The look on his face was more than enough to know he was oblivious to everything his daughter had gone through. I couldn't stand there and condemn this man for what someone else did.

“He said he would treat her with respect, he promised me that he wouldn't hurt her.” His face trembled, head shaking side to side. “Please, don't hurt me, I didn't know.”

I believed him. My heart pranged like a china cymbal, destroying my insides. Shoving him back into his seat, I stood tall, throwing my hands into my hair. “I'm not going to hurt you.”

It would be a fucking lie if I said the urge to knock him square in the jaw hadn't gone through my head. I just couldn't.

Despite how he had blindly tossed his daughter to the wolves, he was living in a fictional world where bad guys stood by their word.

“But you say she's alright? You know where—” The door to the office creaked open, causing Pierre to shift his eyes around my body. His jaw hung open, pupils turning into pools of ice.

“I believe you have something that belongs to me.” I heard his voice first, slicing through the thick air and cutting into my ears.

I didn't have to look, I knew who it was.

Pierre pushed back in his seat, palms up and open defensively. “I don't know who this man is, Diablo. He just showed up.”

“I know who he is, I know exactly who he is.” An evil smile spread up his cheeks as he took a small step into the room. “I've been waiting for you, I knew eventually you'd end up here again. Humans are creatures of habit, it just took a little longer than I expected.”

Dressed in a charcoal black suit, a smug grin filled his face. His fingers steepled against his chest, eyes heavy and empty. Rich black hair was peppered in white streaks, tall and lean, his shoulders were wide.

Two men blocked the doorway, one I didn't know, but the other I recognized instantly.

Val. . . He didn't die.

Diablo followed my eyes, and laughed. “I believe you've met Val already.” Turning towards the door, he hung his head. “Val, don't be rude, say hello.” He didn't nod to acknowledge his boss's request. All I could see was angry teeth and deadpan eyes. “Well, I guess I can't blame you, I'd be pissed if someone shot me too.”

Twisting on my heels, my arms hung by my sides. “So you're the asshole who likes to beat and humiliate woman.” Looking him up and down, I grinned. “I can see why you'd have to do it that way.”

Diablo didn't take kindly to my joke. His lips curved down, eyes ink black and lifeless. “Don't be fucking cute, Redd. I don't like cute. Trust me, you don't want to piss me off.”

Rocking my head back and forth against each shoulder, I thinned my lips. “I'm pretty sure I've already done that.”

He might be used to people just backing off and giving him whatever the hell he wanted. But I wasn't that man.

Val grunted, charging forward like a bull. “You little fucking shit!”

“Val!” Diablo barked, holding out his arm to stop him from going any further. “Not yet. You'll get your chance with him, but we still need him right now. I don't have my jewel, nothing happens to him until I get her back.”

Smiling, Val cracked his neck and took a step backwards. “You just wait, you just fucking wait.”

Furrowing my brows, my chest puffed up as the anger rose and bubbled. My body was hot, fire flowing through my veins. I wasn't giving Bijou back to this man, it didn't matter what he did to me.

I could take the pain, I could take the torture, but I could never take her being back in his hands.

“Fuck you.” Balling my fists, I clenched my teeth. “You'll never get her back.”

“Actually, I'm already working on that.” Flipping two fingers towards the men, the man I didn't know walked off. Diablo lifted a hand to his face, staring at the back of his palm. “You're reputation precedes you, Redd. I expected someone who was more professional, more. . .” Flicking his eyes up and down, his lip curled with disgust. “Clean.” Tucking his hands behind his back, he stood still.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You know word travels, especially in our world.” Winking, he smiled. I wanted to knock his face off his fucking neck, but I stayed still. “You are one of us, does she know that?”

“I'm not one of you, I've never been one of you.”

“Are you sure about that?” Bouncing on his legs, he strolled around the room, picking up papers and looking at them with disinterest. “You're one of us because your hands are bloodied the same as mine. You've stolen, that's your expertise, and you've also killed, a little side effect of the job. It happens, I get that.”

“I've only killed because I was forced to.” Where was he going with this? I didn't like the way he was trying to paint me.

We were nothing alike. I stole to provide for my family, and I killed to protect them. That was way different than getting my jollies off of suffering and power.

Am I really that different? The last job wasn't for someone else, it was for me. . .

The thought stabbed my chest like a serrated blade, gutting me where I stood. Was he right? Were we more alike than I wanted to believe?

I had attempted to leave this business behind more than once, and it sucked me right back in. Not because we needed the money, not because I couldn't get another job doing something else—but because I liked it. I was good at it.

It was all I knew.

“But you've killed.” His smile glowed, gleaming with white fire. “The difference between us though—you come from shit. Your family was shit, your father was shit, and. . .” Holding up his finger, he wagged it in the air. “Your mother was shit.”

“Fuck you.” Spitting at his feet, my stomach coiled. “You know nothing about me.”

“I know enough. Your father was a drunk and your mother was a jobless whore. Did I peg that right?”

Steam blew from my ears, the room tunneled into a faint light, and Diablo's face was the center star. I lost it, I fucking lost control in a blink of an eye. I could take someone talking shit about my father, most of the time they were right. But my mother, she was off limits.

“And now you have my whore. I want the bitch back, Redd. I worked hard to mold her into my little pet. I won't let you just erase my hard work.”

Everything went black.

Flashes lit in my mind, quick blips of motion. Me running and screaming like a fucking soldier as I charged forward with blood in my eyes. I knew I hit him. I could feel his jaw on my knuckles and the sharp edges of his teeth as my fingers slipped over his mouth.

Then nothing.

* * * *

My head ached as I opened my eyes. Bright light exploded against my pupils as I tried to focus. Everything was fuzzy, I couldn't see a fucking thing.

Groaning, I gripped my skull and rolled onto my side. “Shit,” I mumbled to myself, doing my best to force the thunder and lightening out of my brain.

“You alright?” A voice asked, as heavy hands curled under my shoulders, helping me to sit up.

“I think so.” Rubbing my eyes, I blinked a few times and saw Bijou's father standing over me. “What happened?”

Looking around, I noticed we weren't in his office anymore. Dark brown paneling covered the walls, the floor was made of black tiles with speckles of tan mixed in. The ceiling was solid wood beams, with shiny metal eyehooks scattered around randomly.

“Where the hell are we?” Scrambling to my feet, I steadied myself on shaky legs. The room was spinning as my brain still throbbed and my muscles felt wiry. It was like my entire body had fallen asleep as pins and needles radiated around the sinew, making me uncomfortable.

“You got a good hit in on Diablo, but Val, he rushed you and knocked you down.”

Twisting in place, my ribs burned. Holding my side, I bent into my waist. “Ah, fuck!”

Placing his hand on my shoulder, Pierre patted my back. “Stun gun.” Pointing at my side, he shook his head. “Take it easy, you need to sit down and relax.”

“Relax!” Shrugging him off my shoulder, I stomped towards the wall and pressed my back against it. “How the fuck am I supposed to relax!?”

“Diablo—”

“Fuck Diablo!” Scanning the room, I saw a door to my left and stumbled over to it, holding my ribs. Trying the knob, it was locked. That didn't surprise me, I knew it would be, but I had to check anyway.

“Redd, don't do anything stupid.” Holding out both hands, Pierre walked towards me. “If we want to get out of here, we need to do what he wants.”

Thinning my lids, I cocked my head over my shoulder. “You have no clue, do you? We aren't getting out of here, he's going to kill us. But he can't until he has your daughter back.”

“No, he won't do that. I know this man.”

“You don't know shit. You thought he was going to treat your daughter with respect, and did he?” I didn't give him time to answer. “No, he didn't. He's a fucking piece of shit. And you're a weak prick who can't find his balls and stand up for himself.”

“But I'm supposed to trust you?” The lines on his face arched high as he crossed his arms. “I heard what he said, about what you've done. Why should I believe you over him?”

“Because I saved your daughter from that asshole. And if I have to die to keep her safe, I'm ready for that.” My back snapped straight, each vertebrae clicking into place with a pop. Staring him down, I kicked my chin up. “What are you going to do for her?”

Did I just challenge him?

You bet your fucking ass I did.

He wanted to think of himself as a father, he wanted to have that title. . .

Then he better be willing to do what was right to own it.

I made my choice, and if he couldn't see that Bijou was worth this fight, then he didn't deserve to call himself her father.