♫ I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead - Set It Off ♫
These poor, simple fools.
I smiled triumphantly, tucking my phone into the inner breast pocket of my suit jacket. This shit was turning out to be far more simple than I initially anticipated. It was laughable really; I had Roman eating out of the palm of my hand and Lux hanging on my every word. If things kept up at this speed, I’d be lounging in my throne with Lux on a leash between my legs in a just few months time.
“There, you called the little puta. Are we done now?” Ramos barked, his voice raspy and debilitated.
Dropping my gaze to where he kneeled before me, I could just make out his swollen, bloodied face in the dim lighting. My lips quirked ever so slightly.
He thought we were done.
Delusional imbecile.
The only thing to be done here was him, hence his immobility, arms suspended by shackles on the mildew-infested tiles behind him.
I bounced my gaze to Rome who was just about a foot away from him, his knowing stare already waiting. Nothing but a mere look passed between us and Hector began wailing again, his face contorted in agony as he convulsed from the electrical currents zipping through his bindings.
Roman had the power source hidden away safely in his pocket. He was going rather easy on the drug runner now, the smallest of sparks bursting from the metal cuffs, but all it took was a simple turn of the dial and he’d be barbequed from the inside out.
As satisfying as it was to hear his stuttered pleas, though, they fell on deaf ears time and time again. I had somewhere to be, namely in Willow’s bed. New little piece of ass I’d acquired as of late. She could suck the fucking life out of me and her cunt wasn’t too bad either. A little used but, weren’t most pussies these days?
Thirsty hoes.
Another quick exchange between Rome and I, and everything ceased.
Ramos fell dead silent. His upper-body sagged over, suspended in the air, breathing ragged and unsteady. The man couldn’t pick his head up, bobbing around feebly as he swallowed mouthfuls of air into his weeping lungs.
Pity. His imminent death would’ve be so much more satisfying if he wasn’t so exhausted.
Sinking onto the balls of my Oxford’s, I waited in silence until his exhausted, weary gaze met mine.
“Please, spare me,” it begged. “Not again.”
Still, I didn’t utter a word. I simply studied him; the lingering fear of death in his eyes, how his chest heaved faster upon each breath, the thick droplets of blood and sweat that dripped from his forehead onto the grimy shower floors beneath us.
“I would say you need a lesson in respect, Hector, but lessons are for those given another chance to live,” I finally advised, relishing the moment realization flashed in his brown eyes.
“I did what you asked, man!” he spat. “I did everything!”
“You did, yes,” I agreed. “But you also tried to move in on Lux last year. How am I to know you won’t do the same to me a few months down the line? It would be grand mistake for you or anyone else who dares cross me, I can promise you that, but I prefer not to get my hands dirty unless it’s on my own terms.”
Ramos laughed, weakly, but I caught it, and it infuriated me. Mockery wasn’t something I took lightly.
And yet, I wanted to hear what he had to say, gritting down on my jaw to leave the ball bouncing in his court. Frail or not, he saw the challenge, accepted it like the idiot he was.
“Seems like you finally grew a pair of balls, huh?” he snickered, shaking his head to the best of his ability. “Last time I checked, you were Lux’s little bitch. What happened? Got denied by the Queen one too many times?”
Zero.
One-hundred.
I was there in a millisecond, grabbing onto a fistful of his dark hair as I flipped my switchblade on him with an enraged growled. The very tip dug into his throat, bulging his eyes in shock.
In horror.
Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting that.
Not so funny now, motherfucker, huh?
It would’ve been so easy to end him right there, so damn easy, and I almost did…but Rome’s purposeful cough reminded me this wasn’t part of the plan. That, in turn, did not help to placate me. In fact, it only made me far more incensed than I already was. Incensed with myself.
Ramos provoked me and I struck, stupidly, revealing every last card in my hand. Cards I’d had no intention of sharing with Rome. He wasn’t supposed to know the full extent of my vendetta, thought it was a business move, but my actions just proved otherwise.
Gave me away.
I was going to have to do some serious damage control tomorrow before he tried playing Sherlock Holmes. ‘Cause he would, he definitely would. Roman was slicker than your average and in tune with every last detail, even the hidden ones.
“You can thank Mr. King this blade isn’t jammed into your jugular right now,” I gritted out, thrusting him backward as I rose to full height. “Though, you might actually prefer that if you knew what awaited you in about twenty seconds.”
I’d had enough. It was time.
Flipping my blade back in place, I shoved it into my pocket and nodded at Rome in signal. Without a single word, he retreated several steps and made quick work of turning both eroded levers. A putrid colored water began pouring out from two holes where showerheads once sat, splashing onto Hector’s hands beneath them.
“What the fuck?” he bellowed, undoubtedly confused at the sudden turn of events.
I didn’t offer him an answer. Neither did Rome, who was lugging a bucket to my side.
He’d understand soon enough.
I took one last good look at the gun runner, grinning at his stupidity, and promptly tossed a tidal wave of water his way. Ramos sputtered under the assault as the bucket clattered to the ground, our cue to get the fuck out of there.
He protested at our silent retiring forms, yanking at his restraints, but we kept on for the exit, shutting out the clanking of metal from our minds.
And just as we made it to the threshold, Rome toyed with that handy dandy little device in his pocket…
A quick flick of the wrist, remember?
The sizzle of electricity meeting water was delightful, and the tortured scream that followed was music to my hears, but knowing that would be Roman one day soon was the icing on the motherfucking cake.
Soon.
One. Day. Soon.