Page 20 of Fixate (Devious Mafia Daddies #2)

Pip

“I’m not talking,” dumb rat said as Pharrell punched him again and again. He was covered in blood and would probably go into shock soon if we didn’t treat those wounds.

I really loved the idea of keeping him on the brink of life only to torture him a bit more. Nothing like the screams of the weak to make a man feel good.

Not like that, you fuck.

The weak as in the men who backstab to get their way. It’s despicable knowing they try to switch sides or pretend to be some kind of spy. This isn’t the fucking movies. That shit doesn’t work out here in the real world.

Exhibit A.

Our dumb rat was finding out why you don’t cross men in the Cosa Nostra. It was a fool’s choice.

“You should just tell him. We’ve got all night. Ricardo is handling the rest of the shipment so you’re just our plaything. If he finishes though—” I whistled instead of finishing my sentence.

No need to elaborate about the man who was clearly nowhere near done getting his anger out.

I’d seen many sides of Pharrell through the years. He’d hired me a few times, and others we’d just happened to wind up in the same places. I couldn't remember a single time he’d been this hungry for blood.

It was like he had a point to prove to everyone.

Made sense given the shit his dead wife had done. I never liked the bitch. Always made me feel like she was keeping secrets from us all.

She had to go ahead and prove me right after all.

Fuck.

“You should know by now I’m a patient man. I can do this all night.” Pharrell wiped sweat from his brow. A blood trail formed in the wake of the movement. I wasn’t sure if it was from his split knuckles or from the man he’d been tearing apart.

The entire situation was fucked up. Ricardo’s plan had seemed ridiculous when he first mentioned it. And though I liked that he caught this bastard, I fucking hated that we didn’t get any intel in the switch. At least his employer’s name would do us good.

“How’s it going?” Ricardo asked as he stepped into the room.

I raised my brow at him, then grinned to show how much I was enjoying myself. Even without hitting the rat myself, I felt the thrill of a good beatdown moving through me.

“Having the time of our lives tonight. You?”

He shook his head, then moved to stand beside Pharrell. I wondered if he realized how often he did that — walk into a room and move straight to the other man.

Some would say it’s a show of loyalty. I suspected it was more.

I’d have to keep watch over them both since the boss had a soft spot for the newbie. Not like I had other plans for now anyway. I’d shut down all contract offers for the time being while I helped Pharrell settle.

Don’t ask me why.

It just felt like the right thing to do.

I liked the guy. No, not like that.

He was good people.

“Has he said anything at all?” Ricardo asked Pharrell.

The other man frowned as he kicked the man bolted to the floor. “He’s keeping his mouth shut well for someone who won’t make it out of here alive. That’s some fucked up loyalty.”

Ricardo hummed, then pushed past Pharrell to take in the rat. “I wonder,” he said softly.

Next thing I knew, he’s got a knife in his hand, and he cut through clothing. The shirt fell away, revealing a bruised and tattooed torso. The pants were removed right after. Left in just his underwear, the rat looked pitiful.

I chuckled as I circled him like the predator I was. One nod from Pharrell, and I’d get to have my version of fun with him. He’d be my pet to play with for as long as I pleased.

“What are you doing?” Pharrell growled.

I looked over to see Ricardo running his hands over the other man’s body. Where he’d been quiet before, the touch seemed to send him into a frenzy.

“No! Fuck! Stop that shit! I’m not —”

“Found it,” Ricardo said with a smirk. “You did good hiding it, but even I know better than to leave evidence. Should have fucking carved it out.”

Pharrell tugged on Ricardo’s arm until he stood. “What is it? Explain.”

The pair stared at each other for longer than necessary, a silent conversation happening between them. When Ricardo finally spoke, Pharrell’s shoulders dropped as if he were relieved.

“He has brand on his upper back. There are tattoos covering it. You wouldn’t be able to see it, but it’s there if you touch. One of you should see if you know what it is.”

“No need,” I said as I kicked the rat in the back.

Sure, they hadn’t said I could, but with the news of a brand, I figured they were officially done with him.

“Branding means Bratva.” Pharrell’s voice held no emotion.

“Stasia was Bratva wasn’t she? They put a fucking rat in your ranks?”

At Ricardo’s anger, our boss smiled. “Seems that way. Then again, he could have been here as Stasia’s pet. My late wife had a thing for keeping things she shouldn’t have. It’s a shame her family didn’t call him back. This is going to cause so much more trouble than he’s worth.”

Pharrell’s gaze turned to me. “Can you take care of this? I’m tired and would like to get cleaned up.”

With a smile, I saluted him. “Absolutely, Boss. I’ll have a bit of fun first, if you don’t mind.”

He waved his hand to signal he didn’t care, then he and Ricardo moved as if to leave. I watched them go, curious as to why it felt like something had shifted tonight. Like maybe there were things I didn’t understand but should have.

Who knows?

I shrugged and skipped over to the wall of goodies — aka weapons. Selecting a bat with spikes on the end, I figured a little batting practice would be fun. Granted it would also kill him quickly; it was still gruesome enough to tickle my fancy.

“Hey, batter, batter,” I cried out as I pulled my arm back and then swung. The sound of a fractured skull and brain matter filled my ears. “Home run! And the crowd goes willllllld!”