CHAPTER THIRTEEN

JASIEL

Ideas swam around in my brain juices. My brain juices weren't like everyone else's, mine were made of propane, and when I had a little spark of an idea, it would illuminate everything in my brain. I liked to think of it that way.

In a past life, I was probably a demolitions expert because I knew how to spot weak points on a building and exploit that to get a place to crumble into hazardous dust particles.

"Ok, so they went over five minutes later," Trojan said, redirecting my attention span to the black and white footage on the TV screen. He'd connected his laptop to the TV and was showing off what he'd found.

On the screen, there were several men, armed and dangerous, but they didn't exactly look like they were taking care of their blind spots. Anyone could've been hiding on one of the containers further up to take them out with a couple shots.

He forwarded through the footage. "And here," he said. "Benicio arrives."

Daddy moved from the sofa and sat in front of the screen. He stared directly at the frozen image of Benicio. He was the old guy who tried to control everything. He walked with a cane, and he always wore a white hat. When I knew Benicio, he seemed nice, he made everyone so happy, and he hosted the biggest dinner parties where I tried expensive food and expensive wine. It was sad for me to know that he was also the one who put a bounty on my head, and not even a big one at that.

"Play," Daddy said, snapping his fingers.

The camera followed Benicio as he approached his son at a car. There were three bodies on the ground. And three men surrounding Benicio Jr. with the cargo they'd collected from the container.

There was no sound, but I assumed they were saying something with long breathy pauses the way Benicio spoke. He had a deep voice and he sighed after everything. My impression of him was to say. ‘Don't—come back—unless—he's dead.' And that's what I imagined him saying here too.

Benicio raised his cane, the tip of it glinted in the security camera. Now, I was interested. I knew Benicio's cane turned into a knife; it was exciting to see him use it. One jab of the cane and it went through one of the dead bodies on the ground. He walked closer to his son, stabbing at the other body on the ground.

Daddy scoffed. "Look at him, I'm surprised he even did that himself," he said, turning to the rest of us. "He's so used to paying people to kill for him, I doubt he's done any dirty work in years."

Enthralled in the action on screen, I continued to watch Benicio. He plunged the end of his sharp cane into a man's chest. He dropped his weapon and stood, dark liquid coming from his mouth. I assumed it was blood, but the black and white on-screen made my brain disconnect that from actual blood.

"I guess one doesn't count," Daddy said, rolling his eyes. "But my point stands. He doesn't do his own dirty work. He has his kids do it, like, going to collect his shipments. Or he'll hire someone or put a bounty on someone's head to get the job done for him."

I knew Daddy was mad. We'd both been lied to, and then we'd both been almost killed by that family. Mostly, Daddy kept a level head. He didn't act unless he had to, and he always watched. Sometimes, I'd catch him watching me, a blank expression on his face like he was in the middle of playing poker. His stare was hypnotic.

On the screen, men arrived in hazmat suits, carrying long sheets of plastic. They wrapped the bodies like they were meat in a butcher's store. Pushing all the dead bodies together, they wrapped them up and tied them off in place with large Ziplock ties.

"Good news," I said, slipping on my melted slushie as the syrup collected in the bottom. "They don't know it was us."

Daddy smiled briefly at that before joining me on the sofa. "They don't, you're right," he said. "So, who's hungry?"

Midas looked from side to side. "Are you offering to cook?"

"Fuck that," he snipped. "Order take out." He slipped his hand into mine. "You know I only cook for one person."

"Is it me?" I whispered.

"Yes, it's you," he whispered back.

I wasn't super hungry, but I could always eat, and I wasn't going to turn down the idea of food. I was still getting used to being out of prison. I hadn't had this much choice since before I went into prison, and quite literally before that. Benicio had tried to ply me with food in order to get me to speak before he tried to the hard way. But either way, I would've never told them anything about Daddy's money.

They ordered pizzas. Pepperoni, four cheese, and ham and pineapple.

I claimed the four-cheese pizza for myself, taking the box with me into the bedroom where only one other person was allowed to be. Daddy came in, looking at me with a pinched glare. He looked from me in a pair of underwear one of his oversized vests, to the pizza, and then to the cartoons on the TV.

"I thought we were all sharing?" he asked, unbuttoning his shirt.

"You guys can share," I told him as I licked a piece of string cheese melting from the side of the pizza slice. "But I'm not sharing."

On the bedside table, my half-filled slushie cup, and in a headlock under my arm, Blubby. He didn't eat, so it was fine.

"Do I get a bite?" he asked, kneeling at the side of the bed to me.

My body had a series of his little love bites, I wondered if that's what he was referring to, because the pizza in my hand had already been spoken for. I folded it and stuffed it in my mouth.

Daddy opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. He pointed to the remaining pizza in the box. I wasn't against the idea of forcing all those inches in his mouth, but usually, I was the one being stuffed with inches.

I fed him some of my pizza, but I also got the cheese and sauce all over his face before I did it. "There," I said, proud of myself.

I'd missed messing around with him so much. We started our relationship in a mess, and I liked to make sure that theme continued.

He pressed his face to mine, getting all the sauce back on me. "Now, we'll have to take a shower together," he said. "And—how did you write your name on my dick earlier without me feeling it?"

I gave him a cute smile, full teeth. "Because I was soft. You didn't even get hard or anything. It was like a little worm."

His face grew closer, pressing on mine. "Little?" he asked in a deep voice. "You know what happened to the last guy who called it little?"

"Yes," I said, applying force to my face as we mushed together. "It was me." I was the last guy who'd called it little as a joke, or at least I hoped I was. "It better have been me."

"Yes, and what happened?" he asked.

"You tucked me into bed, and we slept, happily ever after, the end."

"Before that."

"You mean when you put it all the way down my throat, and I thought you were going to rip through my skull?"

Daddy smirked. "Don't worry though," he said. "I won't do that now. You've just eaten. It would be a waste of food if you started throwing up on my dick, not to mention, not my kink."

My brows gathered at a central point on my forehead. "That's not my kink either," I said. "I don't want to puke."

He pulled away from the bed. "Let's go shower," he said. "We smell like gunfire and pizza. And now I'll have to remake the bed. You've left a fucking grease stain."

"Relax," I said, clicking my tongue. "It's just pizza." Daddy liked clean things, he liked me clean, the bed clean, and his kills to be clean. And I liked mess, I lived in mess. If it wasn't for Daddy, I'd have been living in a small box studio surrounded by takeout boxes and the remains of whatever I'd stolen that day.

He carried me into the bathroom as I kicked at him to get the rest of my pizza. "We're showering," he said, placing me in the tub with my clothes on.

I refused to change out of my clothes because he hadn't let me finish my pizza. He liked that I did this, it was part of our play, but I also didn't want to get undressed, and I really wanted to eat more pizza and watch more cartoons.

He undressed in front of me, pulling off his socks, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, and finally removing his trousers. It was a little performance for my eyes only. I made sure for him to turn around as I recounted all the marks on his body to make sure I had them all memorized.

"Your turns," he said, a hand on the button for the shower. "Undress, or—"

"Or?"

The ‘or' had been the warning. He pressed the button and the shower above shot out cold water, quickly turning hot, then back to cold.

I yelped, jumping and slipping around. Daddy grabbed my hand to keep me stable as he turned the shower off. "Meanie," I said, shivering in my drenched clothes.

"Love you too," he said, removing his oversized vest top from me. "This could've been so easy. But you make it hard—you, always make it hard." He gestured to his cock as it was growing lively with a gentle pendulous swing.

I couldn't be mad, even fake mad at him, especially not when his cock was right there, and my name was directly on the shaft. I allowed him to continue undressing me before we took a shower together.

He took the best care of me. Scrubbing shampoo through my hair and soap over my body with a loofah, gently caressing my skin. I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tight in my hold. I never wanted to let him go.

"When we go to the house, I know you want to kill Benicio," I said, looking up at him. "But can I kill one of the sons?"

Nodding, he smiled at me. "Which one?"

There were four sons. Benicio Jr., Jesus, Luis, and Miguel, in that order of succession. I'd already killed Luis, which was part of why they came for us in the middle of the night, but also, Luis had threatened us with death if we tried to leave, so they brought all of this on themselves. "Jesus," I said.

"Don't get hurt." He kissed me on the forehead, getting shampoo suds in his mouth.

I giggled, watching him spit out the taste.