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Chapter Twenty-Two

Luke

Zoran Petrovic is one of the most ruthless motherfuckers I think the mafia has ever seen. Six-foot-five, jet-black hair, we’re similar in more ways than one. He possesses qualities men aspire to hold themselves. Of course, I say this like I’m not the one currently tied to a chair in the middle of his office.

Rope. Of all the fucking things he could have bound my wrists with, it had to be rope. Blackness sneaks up on me, vines of evil dismay wrap tightly around me. I can see Zoran moving, but it’s not him I focus on.

I twist my wrist, the burn biting the already torn skin. I can see it in her eyes what she’s going to do. I don’t know what I did to earn this kind of attention from her, but I don’t like it. Don’t want it anymore.

Attention was attention to start. Now, I do everything I can to avoid it.

“Keep your mouth shut tonight. No fighting back if he wants you afterwards.”

“Mum?” My voice rattles with horror.

She shakes her head violently, checking her knots. “You fought back last time. This is for your own good.”

It always is.

“But…”

The back of her hand strikes my cheek, and I turn my head, the lash of pain whipping my neck to connect with the back of the cupboard. Warm tears start streaking down my face. I don’t get why. I’m not sad that she hit me. It’s the subtle reminder I needed to prove that I’m still alive. Still breathing. It’s not a good life, but it’s the one chosen for me.

When the air starts thinning like it’s being sucked straight out of the cupboard I’m sat in, I feel the darkness and the suffocating silence wrap its limbs around me.

They hold me tight, blanking out the sound of the door being locked, and the subsequent acts of evil.

“Are the ropes really necessary?” I blink away the vision of the first real time I became aware my mother was selling her body for money. And mine.

Zoran quirks a brow. His pin-striped shirt is tucked into his suit trousers. He looks formal considering we’re in his home. “I saw what you did to the men I sent for you last time.” His accent is thick and rough around the edges.

“Yeah, but they weren’t you. I’m not crazy enough to take you on, at least not single-handedly.”

He smiles darkly. “You say that like your brother isn’t outside watching this place.”

I drop my gaze momentarily, one corner of my mouth lifting. “You’re good, but on that one, you’re wrong. I came here alone.” Stupid, maybe. But necessary.

He shrugs. “No, Mr Jones. I’m the best, even if I should be questioning your way of thinking. Coming here alone was very dangerous.”

“I’m sure it was,” I say nonchalantly, even though I know better than to fuck around with this guy.

As if to prove a point, he walks behind his desk and opens the giant set of doors which lead to another room. The place is decorated with deep reds and dark wood, low lighting really bringing out the mafia side of him.

“Looks like a scene from Goodfellas.” My cocky mouth earns me a whack on the back of my neck by one of his henchmen. My vision instantly blurs. My head drops as I shake the fog away, looking over the lamp on his desk to see where he’s gone.

“Mr Jones, meet Stefan.”

Holding a man by the scruff of his neck, Zoran drags him into his office like he’s a dog. I swallow, noticing the black leather wrapped around Stefan’s throat. “Mr Jones. When I ask you to do things for me, know that it’s a courtesy.”

“A courtesy?” I question, watching Stefan’s eyes widen with horror.

“Untie his ropes,” Zoran orders, standing Stefan behind his desk.

The brute of a man behind me, does as he’s told, letting the ropes fall to the floor in a heap. I try not to show my relief as the adrenaline begins to subside, my heart rate slowing to a steady rhythm.

I’m signalled to stand by Zoran’s raised finger.

Doing as I’m bid, I push from the chair, looking around the room briefly. There are two men behind me, plus Zoran and Stefan.

“Do you know how amazing the human body is, Mr Jones?”

Unsure where this is headed, I reply, “Not really.” I don’t see how this is relevant.

He smiles dryly, moving around his desk and opening a drawer. Pulling out a letter opener, he twists the tip of the thin blade on the end of his forefinger.

Oh.

“It truly is remarkable. For example,” he grabs Stefan’s hand, slamming it onto his desk, “fifty-percent of your hand strength comes from your pinkie finger.” Holding the knife against Stefan’s skin, the slick slice and sounds of Stefan struggling, all come at once. “Did you know that?”

Stefan’s blood splatters the walnut desk as his agonising cries pierce my eardrums. I grimace internally, watching Stefan turn a ghostly shade of white as he lifts his hand, gripping it with the other.

“I didn’t.”

Pleased with himself, Zoran smirks. “And the cornea,” Zoran begins, walking behind Stefan whilst keeping his eyes locked on mine, “is the only part of the body with no blood supply.” I know in the pit of my stomach what’s coming before Zoran begins lifting his hand.

Stefan’s clearly unaware as the blade gets jammed into his eye, his body convulsing and jerking as he lets out shrill cries. Zoran watches me to make sure I don’t look away.

I won’t.

“Quite the biology lesson, but I thought you wanted to talk business. That’s why you sent that threat and had me followed? ”

The two men move and drag Stefan back into the red room, his cries drowning out the further he’s taken away.

I watch his feet leave lines on the carpet as Zoran wipes the bloodied blade clean with a handkerchief, then places it back in the drawer like nothing happened. “What I want from you doesn’t require sending you threats, Mr Jones. But you have me intrigued.”

Irritating as this arsehole can be, I can see it in his eyes that there’s no point in asking him again. He just cut a man’s finger off and blinded him. He didn’t leave that threat at Eva’s. He would have come in and set the place on fire, not leave a fucking piece of paper on the kitchen table.

So what happened to Liam?

Zoran’s nostrils flare and his eyes pop open. He’s waiting for me to speak.

“What about the man at The Savoy and the restaurant yesterday?” He may not have sent a threat. But he would have someone follow me.

He laughs under his breath. “Luke, Luke, Luke,” he holds out his hands, “I’m not a baby-sitter. I’m a fucking king. Please,” he rests his hand flat to his chest, “a little more respect.” Shit. Then who the fuck was it? “Walk with me.”

I proceed to follow him out onto the balcony attached to his office, my mind working overtime. Overlooking the outer gardens, I make sure to keep my distance from him. The friendly Mr Nice Guy act is like a flashing beacon alerting my instincts. I was expecting more torture. Pain.

“The man you killed was a very important man.”

“So I’ve heard.”

He smiles. “Like I told you already, he was supposed to bring me my money. But, seeing as he’s eating with the crows, someone took it upon themselves to keep what’s not theirs.”

A huff leaves my chest. “Concrete,” is all I can think to say.

Zoran throws me a side look.

“I buried him in concrete.”

My elaborative admission has his lips pursing with fraught amusement and a waving of his index finger. “And I reburied him in a normal grave after my men had to extract him,” he snaps harshly .

That explains how the tracker I had on Quasimodo reshowed itself. I shake my head, watching him move to lean against the iron railing.

“How did you know where he was?”

“He worked for me, Luke. I take it upon myself to always know where my men are. But that’s beside the point.” His shoulders drop in a more comfortable manner. No doubt he’s wondering whether it’s just easier to throw me over the edge. I’m on thin ice. However, I get the impression we’re getting to the good part. “You killed my man, and now, as you already know, I have a proposition for you.” It’s my turn to give him a look, even though I knew this was coming. “A week from now, the kurvo who has my money will be on a boat bound for The Med,” he says in his suddenly angry, thick accent. “You get it, and I’ll help you.”

My eyes meet his. “Help me?”

His smug grin makes me double take. “I’m not the only one who does their research before they work.”

The irony of his statement isn’t lost on me. “Yeah. And look where that got me.”

Opening up his arms, he holds out his open palm. “I don’t see what’s wrong with where you’ve found yourself.”

Scratching my bottom lip, I feel my patience dissipating. Joining Adam and their business was a mistake. Yeah, I’ve earned a lot of money which has helped a lot of people, but I don’t like being in anyone’s debt. “How do you know he’ll be on the boat?”

Zoran grins wickedly. “I made sure he found out about the trip I’d arranged through his mistress.”

I laugh to myself. “Let me guess, she’s one of your girls?” I know Zoran makes most of his money through sex clubs and extortion.

He winks at me. “She’s good. Probably my best. So, don’t kill her when you stop him from taking my money abroad and burying it in offshore accounts. I won’t get it back if he gets that far.”

“Then why set him up on the boat if you don’t want him getting away?”

His grin is ominous. “Because I own the port the boat will be leaving from. Police won’t come anywhere near it. ”

Meaning, if the guy dies, no one will know. I remain silent, my mind whirling, but my decision easy. There’s only one man I have to kill. “I’m not looking for any help.”

“You don’t know what I’m offering.”

We hold each other’s stare. He can’t surely offer me anything of worth. And even if he is, men like Zoran rarely stick to their word once you’ve hurt them. Which I have.

“Meaning?”

His smirk is condescending. “Meaning, I have something you might find useful.”

I doubt that .

Clicking his teeth, he pushes off the rail, walking straight to me, no fucking hesitation.

Looking down at him, the menace in his eyes knocks against the sensible part of my brain. The part I harnessed to protect myself in situations I despise.

“I think you were set up.”

The blunt words pierce my brain like daggers. I clench my jaw, my teeth grinding painfully into each other. “What the fuck did you just say?”

His laugh and the way he mocks me has me balling my fists. “Oh shit, you really don’t have any clue.”

I see myself reaching out, grabbing him by the throat and impaling him on one of the spikes on the rail.

Zoran watches me, clearly seeing the rage behind my eyes, feeling the exuberant heaves of my chest and the hot blows of my breath. “You want to hurt me, don’t you?”

I breathe. “I want you to tell me what you know.” How I manage not to completely lose my shit is beyond me.

Taking a lengthy look at me, every muscle stiffens and turns to ice when his two men reappear, joining us on the balcony. What the hell is this? A set up? No. I wouldn’t have been untied. They close the sliding door behind them leaving my only way out as over the top of the balcony.

“Do you know who you work for?”

“I don’t work for anyone,” I grunt .

“On the contrary, Mr Jones, I’d say you’ve been working for someone for the past three years.” I refuse to speak. Can’t. I know deep down he’s right. I can sugar coat it any which way I want. “But why didn’t you look into who you work for? That’s the ultimate question.”

“I did,” I say in a low tone, refusing to look away.

“Tell me about him. Let’s see if what I know, matches what you know.” He uses his hands to point at himself, then me.

I manage to swallow my annoyance. If what he’s saying is true, I’m in no position to lie. Then again, a double bluff would have me giving out sensitive information. “Marcus Keller. Five-nine. Born and raised in England by two parents. Runs his business privately.”

There’s an impressed look spreading on Zoran’s face. “All but one correct, Mr Jones.”

So he did do his research thoroughly. Relaxing my fists slightly, I have to take what he’s about to say for what it is. The truth.

“We both know he was actually born in Switzerland.”

I shrug. “So you’re not lying.”

“I have no need to.”

With a sigh, I widen my stance, bracing myself. “And what is it I need to know about him?” I slip my hands in my pockets, feeling the beads on my bracelet. I twist them, my composure slowly restoring.

“Marcus Keller provided you with the wrong information.”

I can’t hide my surprise. My lips part and my breathing quickens. “Did he tell you that when you met him?” The photo I found of Zoran meeting Marcus just before they got the jump on us, didn’t make any sense back then. Still doesn’t. “Maybe you’re working with him to get to me?”

He laughs, but I see my comment has irked him. His face turns a maddening shade of red. “Don’t test me, Luke. You said it yourself; I’m not lying.” Zoran takes a freshly cut cigar from his shirt pocket. “I asked Marcus to meet me when I had a man go missing. He knows a lot of people. It made sense. He showed me an ID card of the man you took out, but it wasn’t your man at all. It was mine. That’s how I found out you were the one who killed him.”

Fuck .

“Marcus’ real issue lies in the fact that once you find the man you’re looking for, you’ll leave his set up. But his problem will remain that wherever he got his intel from, is incorrect.”

Disbelief tries to drown me. “I never wanted to be a part of his set up. I helped my brother in exchange for information. That’s all.”

“ False information,” he corrects me, and I taste the copper twang in my mouth when I force my teeth into my tongue, just to curb the itch to fight my way out of here. “And if I told you I found who you’re looking for, would you work for me, in exchange for putting an end to your vendetta?”

His words slam into me faster than a moving train. Intense heat climbs all over my skin like a wildfire. When my face falls and my muscles instantly turn rock hard, an understanding flashes between us so fast, I almost miss it. “You…”

When I don’t finish my sentence, he does it for me. “That man in there,” he points to inside, “he’s not really called Stefan. He’s also got nothing to do with me.”

All oxygen expels from my tightening lungs. Turning my head, I look at the closed doors, past the two men. My foot lifts automatically, but Zoran’s flat hand against my chest stops me from moving any further. “You get him if you agree to getting my money and joining me.”

My chin drops to my chest and my eyes slam shut. Motherfucker. He knows I can’t turn this down if what he’s saying is true. What reason would he have to lie? Why would he want me to work for him?

My brain tries to manipulate me as the walls feel like they’re closing in. I want to scream from the top of my lungs and rip my way through the two henchmen currently blocking my path.

“What is it you’re thinking, Mr Jones?”

Violence and red fill my vision. Pain is all I can see. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?” I have no intention of working for anyone, and I certainly am not leaving here until I know the man called Stefan, is who Zoran says he is.

Evan. Matthews.

“I want you to work for me. I’ve seen what you can do.” There’s a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders which does nothing but serve to relight the fire in my gut.

My fixed gaze hasn’t left the glass doors to inside. “I want out. ”

“Oh, I know,” he says calmly, stepping into my line of vision. “But I want you in.”

Is this prick deaf? “I said I—”

“I heard what you said, but you won’t let him go.”

No. I won’t. Still, I don’t say a word, still trying to take all this new information in. Like, why the fuck Marcus would feed me the wrong information. My past has fuck all to do with him.

“A man doesn’t search high and low for someone he wants to kill, the way that you did. Now, I don’t give a fuck what that cunt in there did. What I care about most is my money. I think you’re the best man for the job, therefore, if finishing this means something to you, as a show of good faith, I’m willing to help.”

As a show of good faith? I contain my laugh. What a fucking joke. The men out here are plenty capable of retrieving his money. “Does Marcus know you found him?”

“Not yet,” he practically sings.

Interesting. So Zoran really is trying to steal me away and have me work for him.

Or he’s separating me from the pack before he kills me?

My issue is, if I kill Stefan—which—Lord a-fucking-bove isn’t that monster’s real name, I owe Zoran. I don’t kill him, not only will he still be alive, but I’ve also then got fucking problems with Marcus, and by default, Adam.

None of these options are viable.

I need to think fucking sharpish. “I need to know it’s him.”

Once I make sure of it, then I can think about what’s next. I hate that I never saw his face in all the times he visited our house. All I knew was that he was an old friend of my mum’s, one with a taste for rancid drugs and a heinous interest in young boys. He got her addicted around the time her depression really kicked in.

Even after her second failed marriage, I know the catalyst for her spiralling was actually my father’s death, something I didn’t find out until I was already behind bars. All those years I spent pining for a man who was already a ghost, seem futile. So much of my energy was wasted on thinking he didn’t love me. He must have, but if he was sick and thought I was safe, of course he didn’t come back for me. Of course he wouldn’t want me to see him in such a bad way.

I miss him.

Thinking back to the matter at hand, I had no reason to question the information I had been given on Evan. If what Zoran is telling me is the truth, then I’ve simply been used in a way that is beyond reconciliation.

When I first sat down with Marcus, there was no mention of wrong information. He told me whenever he came close to finding a lead on my guy, the trail ran cold. He still provided me with the trail—Evan Matthew’s ID card—nonetheless. Regardless, he’s been distant lately, and I can’t help wonder why he’s distracted.

“Of course.” Zoran passes by his men when they slide open the door with a zip.

I guess my feet begin following him knowing exactly what I’m getting into. My moment to walk away from all of this is right now, before Zoran opens that door to his office and delivers me the greatest gift of all.

My feet stop, and the big door to the hidden office opens.

“I’m going to make you an exception. I know I said you can have him once you agree to work for me, but do what you have to do. My men will clean it up.”

His favours are too much. It’s too convenient to try and butter me up so that I give him what he wants.

My heart thumping louder in my chest, I don’t even realise I’m walking slowly into the red room, looking down at the man who stole my innocence. “I don’t need your help from here,” I tell Zoran over my shoulder, unable to look away from the man on the floor.

The collar around his neck is attached to a lead, chained to the wall. He’s a pet. Nothing but an object.

I hear Zoran’s footsteps retreating as grey overshadows me. The cancer of mankind that is huddled with his face down, looks like he took a beating before the men came out onto the balcony. More favours on my behalf?

Grinding my teeth, I inch my way closer, trepidation rising with every step .

Saliva begins dripping to his bended knee. “What’s your name?” I ask, noticing by the deep lines under the cuts on his face that he’s a lot older than me.

“Stefan,” he chokes, crimson thickening the flow stemming past his lips.

Feeling the familiar, sinister serpents beginning to coil around me, I swallow the rising bile and muster the energy to ask, “Your real name.”

He tries in vain to lift his head so he can see me. One eye closed, the other half open, he regards me, and I know by the way he freezes like he’s seen a ghost, that he recognises me.

“Look up, my pretty little boy,” the man with no face tells me, clicking the button on the camera. The flash momentarily blinds me, and I blink, unable to see but able to listen to him doing up his trousers. He strokes my hair then walks to the bedroom door. I’m tired. My eyes won’t stay open. The normality of this is becoming exhausting. Used for their entertainment, I have no choice but to take what they do to me once they’ve been downstairs.

Usually quiet to start, it always ends up loud and stops me from going to sleep. I’m learning to live without it, but the nights I do catch more than a few hours rest, I always wake up feeling rotten.

Hearing a sigh, I remember he’s still here. Still watching me.

He’s the one who walks into my room whenever he pleases like I’m his. He’s the one who blindfolds me or covers his face like he is tonight. Be it shame or for his own anonymity, he stands with his head crooked to one side, making my skin crawl. It feels like I’m being watched by the Devil’s eyes. Evil lurks there. An evil that knows no bounds.

Jerking himself off as he watches me. Hiding cameras in my room.

Using my body.

There’s no end to the torture he delivers. I know it’s not what my friends have to endure. But this is what I’m forced to live with.

“Utter perfection.” He clicks the camera one more time, then staggers away from my door.

“Who are you?” he mumbles pathetically .

Looking around the room, I see a another cigar perched on the edge of the ashtray Zoran left it in. Picking up the lighter also on the table, I lift it to my lips, ignoring the smell and lighting it.

My lungs scream at me. The fumes make my nostrils burn. My mouth instantly feels like carpet. “Do you need a reminder?” I walk to him, unable to hold any eye contact just yet. The cigar between my fingers sizzles at the end, and I smile like a delinquent, mercilessly pressing it into the centre of his open palm.

He screams. Just how I did. “Why are you doing this?” he squeals like a frightened child.

“Because you did this to me.”

He instantly chokes on the blood in his mouth. “No! Please! I didn’t mean…” He wails some more when I drive the cigar down.

“Didn’t mean to what? Take pictures of me in my bed? Undress me then sit and stare at me like I was an animal in a fucking zoo?” He cries hearing the words. “Admit it you piece of shit. Admit what you did!”

He cries some more, dribbling like it’s fucking Niagara Falls.

“Fine.” I take a sharp intake of air, my lungs burning harshly. Grabbing a handful of his hair, I tilt his head back with a jerk of my hand. “Look up.” Repeating his words makes bile rise to my mouth. “Open your fucking eyes,” I seethe, wanting him to look directly at me. I want him to see the crazy behind my eyes and know the damage he and the other men caused, forcing me to live a childhood in fear, thinking everything was my fault.

None of it was my fault.

I’ve always hated being seen as the person with the shitty childhood. I want to be seen as the man living his life to the fucking fullest. As soon as I send this cunt to the pit that’s waiting for him, I can start doing just that. With the woman I need more than anything. And her boy.

Missing a beat, my chest tightens picturing her face. She’d hate what I’m doing. Her heart is too kind. Too fucking pure for any of this. I don’t want her life stained with my evil, but I made her a promise I would tell her all of it. She also promised not to hate me when she hears I’m tainted. Had evil smear it’s dirty hands all over me .

Letting my hold on him go, Evan’s head swings limply on his neck, no doubt the pain he’s feeling is running coarsely through him by now. “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he whimpers, offering me his admission to knowing who I am.

“Well surprise, motherfucker. I’m here.” I grit my teeth, hitching my shorts at the knees before I bend and get down to his level.

There’s a whoosh of air from him as he throws his head back to look at me. Then, unmanning me, he smiles as best he can. “My pretty little boy got big.”

Pummelling my fist through his face, he’s out cold instantly.

Every other man met a bullet. Quick. Easy. Not this one. Not now I’ve seen he has no remorse. The other four screamed their sorriest pleas and desperate attempts for me to show mercy. I did no such thing, and I won’t now.

Standing, I roll back the sleeves of my hoodie, looking to the heavens, telling whoever’s up there that I don’t want forgiveness for what I’m about to do.