16. Reece

Doing Dad's bidding–his murders of those who've double crossed or threatened him–sucks donkey dick. I'd only come ‘home' from the dorms to grab some clothes and the food I'd had stashed in my cupboard for Raven. I'm just about to leave, my hand on the doorknob when I hear his bellowing voice, "Reece! Get in here now, boy!"

He's roaring from his office, the door not even open but his voice is that damn loud it can be heard through solid wood.

Gripping the handle tighter, I consider leaving and ignoring him, however he'll be blowing up my phone in seconds and probably deny me the money for the job he wants me to do for being a brat.

He bellows again, "Reece Mattheus Montserrat!!"

Eh, the full name card.

I cross the grand hallway, stepping up to his office doors and swinging them open with a shove of my shoulder.

He inspects me as I enter the room. "You called for me, father?" I question in an angelic tone. I don't speak to anyone the way I do to him. If he heard the way I spoke to everyone else in my life he'd probably spank me with his belt.

"Yes, I have a job for you. A rather ghastly one."

I scoff. "Your jobs are always ghastly, father."

He shakes his head, standing and gripping the edge of his mahogany desk, reading something on the papers in front of him.

"This one requires you to be discreet and ruthless."

"Seriously? What kinda fucked up thing have you got yourself involved in now?" I question, immediately regretting my words when he stomps towards me seething.

He grips my collar, yanking me closer and practically spitting in my face with his enraged voice, "You will not question my engagements nor speak to me with such insolence, boy!"

I shove a hand against his chest. "Fuck you, father!"

He's seething again, his throat and face blood red.

"Don't test me, Reece."

"Wasn't doing anything of the sort," I remark. "I'm just over doing your bidding."

"Well, son," he says in a patronising tone, "you know what the consequences of not doing your job would be. No trust fund, no car, and you can kiss university goodbye."

I shrug, staring him down.

"You going to do the job?" he finally asks when I don't respond to his threats.

"If I must."

"Good. You're to go to the Cassidy Club, and find a man by the name of Ron Roberts."

I nod. "What's this fucker done?"

"He assaulted our best girl, and violated the club consent terms."

"So what am I doing about it?"

"What must be done, Reece. Make him regret the day he stepped into a Montserrat premises."

Again I nod, feeling giddy about getting to fuck up a filthy man. I'm about to head out the door when I ask, "What girl are we talking about?"

Dad shakes his head, scoffing, and sitting back down in his foreboding leather desk chair. I mumble, "Fine don't tell me then. Just thought I should know whose virtue I'm defending."

I open the door, stepping out in the hallway when I hear Dad respond softly, under his breath, "It was Katee."

And there it is. Katee Martinez may as well be his daughter. They're oddly close, and he'd do anything to protect her. At one point he'd even made an offer to pay her a wage without her having to work at the club, but she refused. Apparently, she enjoys dancing in skimpy outfits and offering lap dances for extra cash.

From by the door, I grab my gym bag, and head out to the Bugatti, shoving it on the front seat beside me before I speed off towards the club.

* * *

Slidingthe Bugatti into a car spot right out the front of the club, I flick the lock and stomp inside. Dad had said to be discreet with this kill, but noticing Bartholomew manning the counter I know that's not necessary. My cousin knows what I'm forced to do. And he's no blabbermouth either.

Stepping up to the counter, I greet him, "Barth, my cuz, how's it hanging?"

He holds up his hand, clasping mine in our usual slapping handshake. "Reece, my cuz. It's hanging low. Shit's been happening around here."

"So I've heard."

He leans forward, saying into my ear, "You hear about Katee?"

"Yeah, getting that fucker is why I'm here," I mumble, touching my waistband to make sure my gun is tucked in tight.

Barth nods. "He's right over near the stage. Dickwad with the red mohawk."

I glance towards the stage where Summer is dancing. The dickhead in question is staring right at her, salivating.

"Thanks, cuz. Got the keys for a private room for me?"

He gives me a wink, telling me, "No need for keys, cuz. I've unlocked the private room at the back for you. And left a few goodies for you to play with."

My heart races in anticipation. Seems some torture is on the cards tonight. You don't cross a Montserrat or someone we care about without facing dire consequences. And in Ron Roberts case those consequences are torturous, and his death will be his reprieve.

"Thanks cuz, looking forward to playing with his sorry arse."

"Anytime cuz, go make that fucker pay for hurting our Katee." He frowns.

"You told her yet?"

He shakes his head. "No."

"You need to, Barth. Katee loves you, and I know it's hurting you both hanging around this toxic hellhole."

"Yeah, but I'm shit scared of putting my heart on the line and telling her I love her. It's good with us, and I don't want words to fuck up what we have."

"Yeah, I get it cuz. But Katee's your endgame."

"I know. I'd fucking die protecting her."

"Tell her cuz."

"I will. After you take down the fucker who hurt her."

I nod, chuckling as I stalk across the club towards my prey.

* * *

Stepping up behind him–justas Summer's set is ending and the room is silent for a beat–I lean in and murmur in his ear, "Hi gorgeous, love the mohawk."

He gasps, stumbling backwards, and then turns to face me. He eyes my body and then scoffs. "I don't fuck guys."

I laugh in response. "Wasn't asking for a fuck."

"Then why are you soliciting me with compliments?"

"Can't a guy compliment another on a sick hairstyle?"

"Not if he's straight."

"You homophobic, Rob?"

He gasps, his mouth agape. I push it closed with my finger, laughing.

"How do you know my name?" he stammers, stumbling on his feet to get away from me.

I stalk closer, gripping his arm. "I know a lot about you, Rob."

"Yeah, like what?"

"That you're a regular here at my father's club, and that you're not a respectful patron."

His eyes boggle, and he shakes his head, mumbling, "No. No. No. Fucking way."

"You've heard of me?"

"Yeah, and I…I know you're a fag."

"Guilty, but at least I'm not a pathetic man like you."

"I didn't do anything to her that she didn't ask for."

"Oh, so you admit to being with our girl?"

"What, no, I mean…"

I chuckle. "Come with me, Rob."

He opens his mouth to say something but only an ‘eek' comes out, a squeak of sorts. I grab his arm and drag him away. He's weak as fuck, not even fighting back as I drag him to the private rooms at the back of the club.

The back one is unlocked and opening the door I shove him inside. He falls to the ground, shrinking away from me. I lock the door behind me and take a moment to admire the ‘toys' Barth has left for me. A small sledgehammer, an icepick, some pliers, fishing lures, and a large serrated knife.

I pick up the knife, running my finger down the non-serrated side. "These look like fun."

Rob is still on the floor, clutching his knees to his chest whilst whimpering.

He spits at me as I approach him, taunting him with the knife pointed at him.

"Tell me what you did to Katee?"

"Nothing. I didn't touch her!"

"That's not what I heard," I tell him, pressing the serrated edge of the knife against his forehead.

He whimpers again. "Don't hurt me, please," he begs.

"You gonna talk? Tell me what you did."

"I told you, nothing. It was just a lap dance like all clubgoers are entitled to."

"If it was just a lap dance I wouldn't be here, fucker."

I take a step back, putting the knife back on the table and grabbing the pliers. I stand over his legs then, gripping his hair in a fist to tilt his head back.

"What…are…you…doing?" he stammers, his voice in raspy breaths.

"Making you talk, and thinking about yanking your teeth out one by one."

He yelps as I yank on his hair more for his mouth to open. His eyes are glassy as though he's about to cry, and I let out a callous laugh, pushing the closed pliers between his lips.

He tries to speak, but he doesn't have a chance as I pry the pliers open, stretching open his mouth. The tip of the pliers close around his very front tooth, and I wrench the pliers out of his mouth taking the tooth with them. He lets out a deafening scream.

I laugh maniacally, asking him, "Gonna talk now?"

"Seriously, what kinda psycho are you?"

"Your worst nightmare, if you don't talk."

"Fine, I touched her," he yells at me. "Happy?"

"Did she consent to that?"

He scoffs. "No. She's a fucking stripper, and she was grinding on my lap."

"So that gives you the right to touch her?"

He laughs and spits out the blood filling his mouth right at me.

"Yeah, the bitch got me hard."

I stare at him, contemplating my next move. I can tell he's not telling me everything. He did more than touch her.

I put the pliers down and pick up the sledgehammer. His eyes boggle.

"And what did you do next? Where'd you touch her? Did you kiss her?"

"What do you think fag?"

"I think you're a coward and a liar."

"I'm telling you I touched her. That's all."

"So your tiny dick was hard and you did nothing but touch her?"

He nods, but can't look me in the eyes.

I step closer to him again, grabbing his thighs and yanking his legs down, spreading them wide to stand in between them.

I bend down so I'm at eye level with him. "Liar," I spit at him.

"I'm…I'm…telling no lies."

"You know what I do to liars?"

He shakes his head but makes no response.

"I fuck them up until they admit what they did or they can't."

Again he makes no move to say anything, but he's shaking with his eyes focusing on the sledgehammer.

"You gonna speak or what?"

"I'm not telling you anything."

"Your choice, fucker," I taunt, holding the sledgehammer up a moment before bringing it down forcefully onto his crotch. He squeals, cursing out, "FUCK!!" as he clutches his balls.

"You fucking psycho! Why'd you do that?"

"So you'll never get hard again. I know you raped her."

"Fine, if I tell you the truth will you let me go?"

"I guess you'll find out," I taunt.

Still clutching his crotch he sighs and then says, "I ripped off her clothes and touched every inch of her hot as fuck body."

I'm staring him down, listening to every word whilst cringing inside. I don't think Barth knows exactly what happened to his girl and once I've offed this fucker I'm going mute. Bartholomew only needs to know that his girl needs time and his love.

"And then I fucked her until she was begging me."

"Begging you to stop?"

"I don't fucking know. I didn't give a shit."

There are no words to say to this piece of shit. I put the sledgehammer down, and withdraw my gun, putting it against his chest.

"Stand up," I demand. He glares at me, shaking as he stands up.

"Please…don't," he begs. "I…told…you the truth."

"Is that what she said while you fucked her?"

"No…she was begging for it."

"Liar," I seethe, taunting him with the gun cocked.

He spits at me again, spattering my clothes with blood. I'd only pulled out one tooth, so it's baffling that his mouth is filled with so much blood.

"Strip, fucker," I demand. He shakes his head.

I press the gun against his forehead. "I said strip, you fucker."

He obeys, slowly, until he's completely naked in front of me.

"Are you going to fuck me now? To punish me?"

I scoff. "You'd like that too much for it to be a punishment."

"What are you going to do to me then?" he asks, his voice shaky.

"What you deserve…" I tell him, smirking wickedly as I pull the gun away from his head and take a step back. The gun has six bullets in it, and I plan on using every damn one of them.

"What's th…" he starts to ask but I fire a round, the bullet hurtling towards him and cutting off his words. It hits the target, spattering blood everywhere as it collides with his dick and he screams the soundproof room down.

I don't even flinch as I fire another two rounds, this time the bullets hit him square in the ribcage, spattering even more blood. He's screaming in agony.

"Pll…eese…stt…ooop…" he yelps.

I'm shocked he's even still standing, let alone trying to speak. "Too late," I spit, stepping towards him and firing a bullet into each kneecap. He falls to the floor, blood spurting out of every bullet wound.

I put the gun to his head, and he lets out a final gasp for breath, a final plea to beg me to stop but it's worthless. I draw back the trigger and fire the final shot straight between his eyes. The blood spatter covers me, and he falls backwards into a pool of his own blood. I kick his lifeless body just for fun and tuck my gun back into the waistband of my jeans.

I could've tortured him more, but the job is done.

Heading back out to the desk, I stop to speak to Barth.

"It's done. You good to organise disposal?"

"Yeah, cuz. Thanks."

"Anytime for you, Barth. Don't forget to comfort your girl after this."

"I will."

"I won't tell you all the details, but she's lucky to have you loving her."

He nods and I leave, getting in the Bugatti and driving straight over the bridge to the side of Vemore I shouldn't be. I shouldn't even be thinking about him, let alone driving to his dorms in the middle of the night, covered in some useless fucker's blood. But I need to get out of my own head for a while, and just enjoy some pleasure that's not sadistic.