“You’ll pay for this.” He moans, his head struggling to stay upright. “You’ll fucking pay.”
I toss the rag aside and consider his meaningless words. “I doubt that, but I appreciate your tenacity.” I scan the tools and assess my options. “I could make this quick if you’d like, all you have to do is use that voice of yours for something other than crying.”
“I’m dead either way,” he blurts out. “Why would I tell you a damn thing?”
“Do you not know who I am? Do I need to remind you of the rumors whispered about the man with no remorse? The one who takes great pleasure in inflicting pain.” I clasp onto the pliers again and go behind him, latching onto his index finger. “This.” I press the thing under his nail and rip it from his finger. "Is just another day at the office." I ignore his screams and crush the same finger. "I could do this in my sleep."
Once he finally gathers his breath, he says, “He’ll gut you like a fucking pig.”
“Yeah?” I lean down, my hand pressed against his shoulder. “All you have to do is tell me a name and I’ll give you a swift death. I’ll even let you choose.” I motion to the table behind me. “I’d probably pick a bullet in the head if I were you, but I’ll be kind enough to let you decide.”
“I don’t have a fucking name,” he yells at me. “Don’t you think I’d have told you by now?”
"No, not particularly. I haven't even really gotten started." I take the spoon-looking thing from the table. "I think I'll pluck your eyes from your skull next. Actually…" I toss it aside. "I think I'll get my hands dirty for this one." I unbutton and roll my sleeves up. "I wonder what the chances of you dying are?" I pause and think this through. "Possibly high. I may have to hold off on that and save it for later." I face him. "What do you want to do next? What about electrocution? That could be fun."
“Savini,” he blurts out. “Talk to fucking Savini. I don’t know anything else, but Savini does.”
I sigh and cross my arms. “Lorenzo Savini?”
He nods aggressively. “Yes. If anyone has any information, it will be him.”
One of our organization's most notorious hitmen. A shadow like me that people fear. A man I respect because he's so damn good at his craft. He isn't afraid to get his hands dirty, but he has standards, a set of moral codes and boundaries he doesn't cross. I never considered he would have anything to do with June’s kidnapping and torture because women and children are typically out of his scope of work. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know who did it.
“I am a man of my word,” I tell the man I’ve been tormenting. “Pick your poison.”
“Just shoot me and get it fucking over with. Please, for the love of—”
But I don’t let him finish; I grab the pistol and fire a round straight through the center of his forehead and one in his chest for safe measure. “That wasn’t so hard,” I say to what’s left of his dead body.
I pull out my phone, dialing one of my saved contacts.
“Sir?”
"I need a location for Lorenzo Savini and a clean-up crew over on Ninth."
“I’ll have that to you immediately, sir.”
I disconnect the line and shove the device back into my pocket. I secure the gun into my side holster and unfold my sleeves, smoothing them out and putting them back in their place. On my way toward the door, I slide my arms through the sleeves of my suit jacket.
* * *
The drive across town isn't long, but the traffic is more than I hoped for. I check the time as I'm leaving my SUV, my head spinning with all the things I need to accomplish before night's end.
“Your keys, sir?” The valet holds out his hand.
"No, it stays there. I won't be long." I rush past him and into the hotel. Ignoring the staff that attempts to greet me, I march across the polished floor to the restaurant beyond. I take one look around the various patrons and spot my target in the back corner. I almost overlook him in his nearly concealed position, but my eye is sharper than the average person's.
Upon my approach, he stands. “Mr. Adler.” The man, about ten years my junior extends his hand.
Pressed suit, similar to mine, lesser quality. Greying beard and that familiar murderous glimmer in his eyes I know all too well.
“Mr. Savini.” I shake his hand firmly, his grip matching mine.
“What can I do for you? It must be of great importance if I’m graced by your presence in person.” He motions for me to sit.
I unbutton my jacket and slide into the booth. “I believe you have information that could prove valuable to me.”
He sits across from me. “I see. And what might that be?”