If this is his way of begging to be kept alive, it’s not the least bit working on me.
“I hate to break it to you, but the war’s already been started.”
I slam my fist against his face, unpleased with his answer. My knuckles are bloody, but I ignore the slight pain.
Besides, the blood is entirely his.
“I can go all night,” I warn. “What is Dorian planning? He didn’t show up just to threaten my wife and the boy.”
I refrain from naming Ashton as my son, especially in front of this monster. He doesn’t get to discover that the child is my son.
There’s a soft feminine gasp from the opposite side of the prison bars near the stairwell.
Fuck!
I glance over my shoulder and catch sight of Karina.
She gasps and hurries back up the stairs.
Francesco chases after her. His footsteps thunder above.
Matteo grins, his lips bloody and his left eye swollen. “Let me guess. The new wife doesn’t know what you do for a living?” A darkened laugh spills past his lips, his shoulders sagging forward. He coughs and spits. Redness lands on my arm.
I wipe the spit away and pummel him in the chest, knocking his chair backward and onto the floor.
Standing, I tower over him, my foot crushing against his lungs. “Giovan!” I shout for my brother.
He unlocks the prison door. “If he won’t talk tonight. We’ll continue tomorrow with the interrogation. Ever have a tooth pulled?” I ask.
It’s a rhetorical question.
We have a vast selection of tools from pliers, car batteries, to pruning shears. I prefer to use my fists and beat the hell out of a guy before we take things up a notch. Torture usually encourages them to tell you anything. Not necessarily the truth. They just want the pain to stop.
I’m a bit old school.
A beat-down loosens them up for the harsher shit.
I’d rather the bastard spill the truth now. It’d save us both a bunch of time and his suffering, but they never go the easy route.
I head out of the prison cell, letting Giovan lift Matteo’s chair and put him back in a sitting position, tied to the chair, before locking the metal doors, leaving the prisoner alone.
Giovan follows behind me up the stairs.
“That was Karina that snuck down here. Wasn’t it?” Giovan asks.
I was hoping he didn’t notice. But that’s impossible given how Francesco chased Karina up the stairs.
“Yeah, one more thing to deal with tonight.” I remove my shirt on the way upstairs. Covered in blood and Matteo’s spit, I need a shower.
“Can’t wait to get your clothes off for that hottie wife of yours,” Giovan jokes.
I step onto the main floor landing and wait for him to join me before slamming the basement door shut and locking it with the reinforced double deadbolts.
“Watch your mouth,” I warn. “You want to have your face looking like Matteo’s?”
Giovan holds his hands up in surrender. “Understood.”
I slip out of my shoes and stalk up the stairs to the bedroom.