44. Rhaim

44

RHAIM

I got into my truck as Sable kept me appraised of the Corvo vehicle's movements—it was driving away from Lia's now, and I intended to follow. There were enough cameras in the city for her to readily track it, so I stayed back, until it'd parked in an alley by its lonesome. I parked my truck down the street, went through my toolbox to grab some things and a set of gloves, before pulling up the hood of my hoodie up and walking the road parallel to it like I had some place to be.

While standing on the corner, looking both directions like a responsible pedestrian and not someone scouting, I spotted Junior's friend Bobby inside the car—despite the lack of streetlights in the alley, his face was illuminated by his phone.

I kept walking straight ahead, knowing he hadn't seen me. I found myself merging with a short line coming out of the front of a bar—and spotted two familiar faces in the window.

I dove into shadows, instantly.

Lia had gone out with Junior in my stead.

I could hardly believe it.

Why?

They were talking with one another. She was smiling at him and while I was ninety-nine percent sure it was a fake smile, the thought of it being even one percent real made my hand close into a fist around the handle of the hammer in my hoodie's large pocket.

So was Bobby just their driver, waiting patiently?

No, there was no way—no matter how chummy she currently seemed, she would've been too smart to get into a car with the both of them. I'd seen how she reacted when they'd come to my office the other day.

I watched the bartender bring Junior a mixed drink and drop off water for Lia.

I knew she was my girl.

She must have had her reasons for being here, and I'd find them out from her later—but for right now, I needed to figure out why Bobby was in the mix.

I circled the block, so I could come up behind his ride.

Can you open that car's doors in five minutes?

I texted Sable once I was around the bend.

Long enough to make popcorn!

Sable texted back—which was her way of saying yes.

Four minutes and fifty seconds later, I leaned in and tapped on the driver side window, scaring the shit out of him. He startled, dropped his phone, then recognized me—at the same time as I made out a ski mask and a gun on his passenger seat through the tinted glass.

He was reaching for the keys to drive off as the doors unlocked. I whipped his door open and lunged in to slam the hammer down on his outstretched arm, his sudden panic illuminated by the overhead light.

"Boy, did you fuck up," I told the kid and hit him in the head.

The only reason Bobby was still alive was because I'd used the hammer's wooden handle—and because the gun was empty, which explained why he'd gone for his keys first.

If he'd been trying to do anything around Lia with live ammo, not a force on earth could have stopped me from killing him.

After that, I got my truck, pulled it alongside his car, and hauled him into the cab for some light bondage: a little tape across his mouth, both hands and ankles hogtied.

When we got where we were going, I wanted to be able to take my time.

I set the scene for him in a small metal box—in its own way, just as elaborate as my apartment had been for Lia—and then waited for him to wake up.

He did so slowly, and with increasing horror, as he realized he was injured, taped, and tied, and I squatted on my heels in front of him so I would be the first thing he saw.

"Good morning, Bobby. Remember me?"

His eyes went wide and he tried to shout.

"Go ahead," I said, reaching up with a gloved finger to rip the tape off his mouth.

He yelled and all it did was echo around the metal walled room we were in. I waited until all of it was out of his system before explaining. "We're in the heart of a locked storage facility and it's two in the morning." I stood and loosened my neck. "I was getting worried you weren't going to wake up—that there wouldn't be anything fun to do here."

"What the fuck?" he shouted at me.

"Indeed," I said with a laugh. "So, tell me what your grand plan was, and whose idea it was," I said, holding the head of the hammer in my hand and pointing at him with the handle.

"I—I don't know what you're talking about. You're crazy, man. People will be looking for me?—"

I leaned forward and tapped the end of the handle meaningfully beneath his chin to shut him up. "Let's be clear about some things here, Bobby. First, I am crazy. Of course." I took a moment to look around our enclosed surroundings. "Most people don't do this kind of thing. More importantly, most people don't enjoy this kind of thing. But I do, and I want you to know that, going forward."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered to himself as I continued.

"Secondly, why the fuck do you think you're Junior's friend?" I asked, and he whipped his head up to look at me. "I'll tell you—it's because you're not a threat to him. You're just his ass kisser, so he can feel important. But no one's looking for you. Junior's probably cursing your name for having let him down—I can see him blowing up your phone here," I said, tapping the pocket which I'd put it in, "but he's stopped now. He just assumes you flaked. He's not calling the cops. Which means no one knows you're here but me."

"Shit—what do you want?" he said, still trying to wriggle free.

"You don't actually want to know," I said, and eyed him coolly. "But I can promise you, you'll survive the night if you just tell me the truth. Why the fuck were you down the street from Lia Ferreo with a gun and ski mask?"

He started taking panicked breaths. "It wasn't armed! There weren't any bullets!"

"I know. That's the only reason you're able to talk to me with any teeth left in your mouth."

I heard him gulp at that. "I was just waiting for him to text me when they left—I was going to pretend to be a mugger and he was going to save her from me."

"Why?"

"Because Junior wanted to seem like a big man, and she's not used to the city?—"

"That's fucking dumb," I said. It did seem on the level of Junior's level of intelligence, however.

"I know," he howled. "I know! Please don't hurt me."

"And you came up with this idea alone, just the two of you?" If there was anyone else involved, I wanted to know.

Bobby nodded frantically, in the way that men do when you're holding a hammer and you're not afraid to use it.

"That was all! Just a joke to scare her a bit! I swear!"

I paced in thought. Was that what had happened to Lia? Some mugging or thwarted robbery attempt, years ago?

Was the fire that burned down Nero's house someone trying to cover something up?

It was all too easy to imagine Lia as a child, being scared in her own home, trying to protect herself with a book—and at the thought of anything hurting her—I stalked forward and undid Bobby's belt.

"What the fuck man?" he said with fresh horror in his voice, trying ineffectually to hop his chair away from me.

I unlaced it from his belt loops and folded it over itself repeatedly, then offered it to him like a bit. "Bite down on this."

"Why?" he blubbered, tears and snot becoming one across his lower face.

I groaned in disappointment. "Bobby, didn't Junior ever tell you what Nero's nickname for me is?" He shook his head as I went on. "Bestiola—it means little beast. I won't tell you how I got that name—but I'll tell you what it means now. I'm the person he sends when he wants to get his point across. Which is why I'm going to break a bone on every limb on your body."

"It was just a game!" he sobbed. "I'm gonna tell!"

"Will you?" I asked him. "I reported that car stolen—and I left your mask and gun inside—made sure it was covered in your fingerprints. You think Junior wants to attract that kind of heat?" I reached up and cocked the nail-pulling end of the hammer beneath his chin to make him shake his head. "You think anyone's going to believe you that Corvo's CFO took you to a storage unit to rough you up a little?" Another shake. "No? So shut the fuck up," I told him, and pointed west with my hammer. "There's a meatpacking plant next door, and you're about thirty seconds away from waking up without an arm and holding a lapful of human sausage."

He processed that, and then let out a particularly pathetic wail.

I didn't have any more time for him—and I had better things to do with the rest of my evening.

"People don't play games with Nero Ferreo's little girl and expect to live, Bobby, so count yourself lucky. Now bite—or you'll regret it," I said, offering him the belt again.

He finally took it, and I stood back up to swing.

If you hit a bone hard enough, it will sound like kindling breaking, even through flesh.

I was precisely as violent as the occasion called for—and it didn't take long. Bobby bellowed after each time I did it, and sounded like he might throw up.

I waited until I was done—after he'd need a cast on every extremity—and tugged his belt out of his mouth. He'd nearly bitten through the top layer of thin leather.

"You still with me?" I asked him. He looked up and groaned. "Fuckin' words, Bobby," I threatened.

"Yes," he hissed, his head swaying, likely dizzy with pain.

"Good. Because the only reason why I'm not breaking your jaw right now is so that you can tell Junior that if anyone comes near Lia again, this is what will happen to them. Nero's orders. Got that?" I asked, tugging his sinking chin up again with the back of the hammerhead. He nodded weakly. "And—you don't tell him it was me. Because if you do, I'll go out and do this to every girl you've ever fucked, plus your mother, your sister, and your brother. I will annihilate everyone you've ever cared about—and then I'll come back around for you, because I'm the beast, Bobby."

He was pathetic.

That didn't stop me from wanting to hurt him.

If he and Junior hadn't come up with this stupid plan, I could've been fucking Lia right now, and admiring the way she looked wearing my collar and chained to the end of my bed.

I swooped a hand forward and picked him up, chair and all, and he wailed in surprise and horror as I shook him.

"So if you so much as think about breathing my name, when I find you, after everyone else you've ever loved is dead, I'll rip off your balls with this end of the hammer here and feed them to you. Am I clear?"

"Crystal," he moaned as a stream of drool poured out of his mouth, and he started crying for himself.

I punched him once because I could, felt the rake of his teeth across my knuckles, and a spatter of his warm blood, before I pulled his phone out of my pocket and tossed it onto his lap. "Good luck dialing nine-one-one with your tongue."