Chapter 22

Mike

“I’m not gonna ask you again. Where’s the money?” I look into the scared man’s wide, green eyes. He must not have the money because he’s beaten badly. If he had a dime, he’d give it to us already.

His mouth spits blood while he cries out, “Please. I beg of you. I don’t have any.” Even though his eyes are swollen and turning purple from the last few days of beatings, he still manages to squeeze them shut as tears flow down his face.

I want to let this guy go. From what I understand, Randall just wants to make an example out of him. I have a strong feeling that someone set him up for failure, and in turn, he mysteriously ended up with half a million dollars that is nowhere to be seen.

Since I’m being watched closely, I inch close to his face and grab his red hair to move his head so I can whisper in his pierced bloody ear. “Look. I know you’re telling me the truth, but if I’m gonna let you go, you’ll have to just tell me where this money is.”

“But I don’t know!” he cries.

“Lie,” I whisper. “Just give us a place to look; it will hopefully buy you time.” I lean back and make eye contact with a sense of hope. “I can’t promise they’ll let you go, but I’m hoping they will. I don’t wanna kill ya, man.”

He squeezes his eyes shut again and drops his head. “It’s at 678 Wilshire Drive. Under the mattress,” he mumbles.

“Thank you, Kevin,” I say while gently patting his bony shoulder.

I announce the address to Randall, who is standing with a few of his so-called soldiers. He purses his lips, then nods his head. “Very well. Good job, Mike. Now kill him.” He folds his arms over his chest.

“What?” I ask at the same time Kevin yells out, “No!”

Randall shrugs his shoulders. “I was going to have you kill him either way,” he says through a smile suited for the devil himself.

My nostrils flare as I fight the urge to whip out my pistol and shoot my uncle right now, right between the eyes.

“Michael.” Randall inches towards me. “Kill him, or I will kill Elena.”

“Not if I kill you first,” I growl, while my fingers are twitching beside the handle of my pistol.

He steps closer and seethes through his teeth, “I have a man on her right now. If you kill me, my men, here will shoot you, then the one listening in my ear will kill her.” My uncle gives me an evil grin. “Capiche?”

I hate my life. Why doesn’t he do it? Why can’t he have someone else do it? Why does it have to be me?

Red is starting to cloud my vision while weighing my options. He could be pulling my chain about having a guy on Elena. Should I risk it, though?

s**t!

My hand wraps around the handle of my gun as I remove it from my waistband. I c**k it and aim at Kevin. He’s crying and yelling to be set free. He says he won’t tell anyone about this, he’s begging for his life.

I close my eyes and say a silent prayer for his soul, then whisper, “I’m sorry” as I pull the trigger. The sound of the bullet leaving the barrel echoes within these walls of this vacant warehouse. Kevin’s head is thrown back from the bullet between his eyes then falls forward.

Letting out a breath, I lower the gun then feel a pat on my shoulder. “That is all,” Randall tells me as he wrangles up his men.

***

Upon finally coming home, I walk through the door from the garage to see a grotesque family room. It appears that my new roommate is worse than a muddy pig rolling in cow dung. There are two empty pizza boxes, one on my coffee table and one open with a few slices in it on the floor between the coffee table and the couch.

The grease from the bottom of the box probably stained the rug. There are also some dishes with half-eaten food in them on the couch and the table.

My head falls to the side for a loud c***k to sound in my neck.

“I’m gonna kill him,” I ground to myself. My molar may have cracked…

The dishes have piled up by the sink and in the sink. I don’t want to think about the dried crusted food that’s stuck on those plates.

His dirty clothes are scattered throughout the floor. A pair of boxers hang over one of my kitchen chairs.

There is a sound of a key sliding into the lock of my front door, it swings open, and there he is. The free-loader son of a b***h.

“What the hell is this?” I shout at him the moment his foot steps inside. His head snaps up to see me standing in the middle of his filth. He looks surprised; those deep brown eyes are shaped like saucers.

“I – I didn’t know when you’d be back,” he stutters.

“So, that gives you the right to trash my place?” I bellow, trying to stop myself from spreading the wounds on my knuckles even further from earlier today by beating his sorry excuse of a face.

He holds his hands up. “I was gonna clean it up – I swear! You were gone for four days, man.”

I point a finger at him. “You're cleaning this s**t up, you understand? I’m doing you a favor here by letting you stay. Don’t mess it up!” I push my way into the kitchen, searching for my favorite sugary snack that can help bring me to a happy place. I open the cupboard door, and as I reach for it, the box feels light. Too light.

Are you kidding me? I feel my nostrils start to flare.

Opening the flaps, I see that all the cereal is gone. I roll my eyes and count to ten. There were three rules for him living here. Three! He’s already broken two. If he breaks the third one… let’s just say his beaten ass will be going to the streets.

I calmly turn around and hold up the Peanut Butter Cap n’ Crunch cereal box. “What’s this?”

Devon freezes as he puts an empty pizza box inside a trash bag. “I…Uh. I was hungry.”

“Then order some damn Chinese! Don’t eat my Cap n’ man.” I throw the box in the trash bin and bring a palm to my eye to calm myself.

It’s just cereal. It’s just cereal.

Ding, dong.

The doorbell chimes. No one I know has ever used the doorbell. Dillweed, and I stand still. We look at each other in hopes that whoever is outside will just leave.

Ding, dong.

The damn doorbell chimes again. I sigh while my shoulders sag, my feet trudge towards the front door.

As soon as I open it, I regret it.

“Michael Gilbert,” the woman says with too much cheer. “Nice to finally meet you – I’ve heard a lot about you.” I’ll pretend that I didn’t hear the judgment in her tone. Her hand reaches out for a shake. “I’m Officer Malone; I’m here to ask you a few questions.”