Page 9 of Taunting Tarran (Wild at Heart #1)

THE PUNISHER

The Conqueror wouldn’t be the first man I’ve murdered, nor will he be the last. Yet, I’ve never killed an employee before, so this will take some planning if no one is to suspect I had anything to do with his death.

Maribel says what happened was consensual, but I don’t give two shits, because at that moment I’d already decided this guy needed eliminating before he did this to another woman, let alone her.

Since taking over the club, I’d scanned through employment files, and who was on shift and when.

This guy Christopher Harris goes by the stage name of The Conqueror and sounds like a right fucking prat.

Apparently he specialises in Dominant Therapy, but this has nothing to do with any therapy and negotiations with a submissive, and therefore the submissive being on a so-called journey of growth.

This is ownership. She’s a fuckdoll, an inanimate object for him to treat less than human.

If his true intention was to cage an animal, torment it, and then show a twisted form of care by bathing and feeding it, he wouldn’t be casting her out when the time comes for the session to end which is still in approximately ten minutes.

‘This is what she wants,’ Maribel had shrugged.

Just before I barged in, I witnessed The Conqueror’s mouth clamp down onto the girl’s shoulder, his lips wrapping around the curvature of her neck, and she yelped through the fabric stuffed in her mouth.

Fuck this dude!

And right there and then I decided this guy wouldn’t be seeing another sunrise.

I can’t say I’ve ever killed a man for a woman before, but something about her ensnares my soul.

Her scream stopped my heart, and all I could focus on was the source of her pained cry.

I stood there, transfixed by her, torn between my primal urge to barrel in and the perverse compulsion to simply observe.

My heart pounded in grim fascination, Maribel’s voice fading as I’m caught in the girl’s web, teetering on the edge of madness.

That should have been me touching her.

Now I’ve laid eyes on her, she won’t slip through my grasp, and if it’s pain she’s after, then pain she shall receive, as long as it’s me who delivers it.

I couldn’t get the memory of The Conqueror’s teeth clamping down on this girl out of my mind. Not to mention fucking her with some grotesquely modified saw. Maribel’s comments about her wanting it, the mere thought igniting a blazing fury within me.

I don’t even know how this dude was hired.

He’s a fucking psychopath, and that’s saying something coming from me.

He has a history of violent offenses, including multiple charges of Grievous Bodily Harm.

It seems it runs in his family. His father was a small-time enforcer for a local gang, teaching his son the brutal ways of the street.

His nickname “The Conqueror” apparently came from his preferred method of intimidation – any tool that enables him to break and conquer his victims. So far, he’s evaded law enforcement despite his victims often bearing both physical and emotional scars.

This sick fuck’s anger is driven by a thirst for power and what better place to lay low, get away with it, and actually get paid than in my club!

Unfortunately for him, his goose is cooked.

This arsehole has met his match. No doubt he and his family remain a formidable presence in the criminal underworld, and for sure they would have accrued a few enemies along the way, so what’s one more?

Fortunately, I know how to kill a man in fifty-six different ways, thirty-two of which are nothing more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

As I walk back into the club, I notice most of the clients have already left, and the few that remain are now re-dressing.

The once bustling atmosphere has quieted, and the stragglers that linger hurriedly dress themselves before the final call.

The ambient hum of moans and screams are replaced by soft sounds of shoes shuffling, garments rustling, and the clink of metal as items are cleaned.

As the night is winding down, the club prepares to close its doors for the evening.

Maribel and The Conqueror are in the room, oblivious to me watching through the two-way mirror.

I bare my teeth as I activate the speakers.

Both are engaged in a hushed conversation, occasionally exchanging a knowing smile and a conspiratorial glance.

The Conqueror leans in close, his voice dropping to a whisper as he outlines the details of a kidnap.

Maribel listens intently, admitting casually that she has already enlisted the help for reinforcements, ensuring they have the necessary backup to execute their plan.

There’s a distinct, pungent stink people ooze when they’re afraid, and I know he’s seconds away from shitting his pants, if he was wearing any!

After Maribel left, I waited for The Conqueror.

I lurked in the shadows. He had no fucking idea I was waiting as he put his key into his car door.

I darted out slamming his head down onto the car roof, and he fell back landing on the ground.

He’s out cold. I grabbed his shoulders, and with a firm grip, hauled him back into the club.

‘Mr Lewis?’ he spews. Not conquering much now is he, naked, legs spread out on the floor with the spreader bar!

His legs are parted with a rigid centre bar with his ankles cuffed at each end.

Usually the spreader is used for a psychological thrill; being bound and forced to receive erotic pleasure.

With legs held apart, it leaves its captive at their lover’s mercy.

But I’ll show him no mercy. Desperation and fear are his only companions now.

‘What the fuck, man?’ He writhes on the floor as I yank up his zip-tied wrists, bound tightly behind his back, and attach him to the X cross mounted on the wall.

‘Are you going to be a good boy?’

‘Hey, man, if this is about that bitch…’ he answers desperately.

‘I suggest you just answer my questions. You’ll be wanting to save your breath for what’s to come.’

The mention of the girl hiked up my rage, not that this prick would have noticed. I have become quite adept at disguising my emotions, most of the time.

‘There is hot arse in this club every night, Mr Lewis. Or is it me you’re after? I’m not usually into men, but I’m sure we can work something out,’ he smirks.

I bend my knees, leaning forward to rest my palms on them as my gaze keeps his.

‘Before this night is over, I will end your life. But before I kill you, I will make sure you endure pain so unimaginable that you will writhe, beg and pray for death. Eventually, I will give you that wish. But when you wake up in Hell, you won’t find peace. Do you know why, Christopher?’

He starts protesting, realising the gravity of the situation, but he doesn’t answer.

‘Because, Christopher, I’ll be there waiting for you… again …Christopher.’

‘WHAT…THE…FUCK! What is she to you? If she’s your fucking wife or some shit, you should have kept her on a leash.’

His eyes widen, that telltale sign of his pupils dilating, to take in every detail, every shadow.

He stops talking as he catches sight of my pliers.

I don’t bother replying to his comments, it’s pointless really.

He wouldn’t understand, no one would, and this prick isn’t worth my breath to explain it.

‘That’s it! She’s your bitch…woof woof. Not my fault she’s looking for fun ‘cause you can’t satisfy her,’ he spits.

Again, I don’t answer. Instead I sigh. How wrong he is. The reality is, this girl Tarran doesn’t even know me, let alone is my wife. But she will, because taunting Tarran has become my new obsession.

‘I can make this as quick or as slow as you like, Christopher,’ I reply, twirling the pliers in front of his face. His eyes focus on the pliers, and his body convulses, veins rise on his forearms as he violently thrusts within his restraints.

‘What do you want?’ he asks, gargling on bile.

‘I want to know about this kidnap.’

A moment pauses, and his eyes lock onto mine.

‘I can’t…they’ll kill me.’

I grip his jaw and clamp the pliers onto his incisor tooth. ‘You should be so lucky! Now, about that kidnap?’

‘You’re a fucking crazy son-of-a-bitch!’ he drawls.

I press down hard on the pliers, and with a couple of twists the tooth is free, and he’s spitting blood.

Before I clamp onto his second tooth, he’s begging. I take a deep breath. ‘You’re evading my question.’

‘Look, all I know is Maribel rang for back-up. You’re not your father; you don’t have to do this!’

‘No, I’m not. If I was, your death would be quick, painless, and insignificant. You would have a bullet lodged in your brain before you could answer my questions. Unfortunately for you, I’m not my father. Your death will be slow, painful, and significant.’

‘I-I don’t know much, Mr Lewis. Just whispers, Maribel running her mouth off, you know what women are like,’ his voice quivers as he stammers his response, and my patience is running thin.

I lean forward to grip another tooth, my warm breath fanning his face.

‘Whispers are enough to start a fire, my friend. And I don’t want to get burnt. ’

Christopher paused, ‘I’ll ring Maribel. I’ll get her to come here. You can ask her yourself. Then will you let me go?’

I retrieve his phone from the pocket of his trousers, which lie scattered on the floor, and scroll through his contact list, searching for Maribel’s number.

‘Remember,’ I add, ‘one slip…’ I smile as I clamp the pliers onto the loose skin of his uncircumcised penis.

His breath hitches, ‘I know,’ he nods frantically.

I dial Maribel’s number, handing the phone towards his mouth, and it rings a few times.

‘Hello?’ the person answers, clearly surprised to be hearing from Christopher at this hour.

‘Maribel, it’s Chris. I need you to come back to the club. It’s urgent.’

I nod as there’s a pause on the other end of the line.

‘Chris? What are you still doing there? What’s going on?’

I twist the pliers.

‘Something’s come up, something serious…ahhh,’ he says anxiously, choosing his words carefully. ‘Look, I can’t discuss this over the phone…p-please…’

‘Alright,’ she finally concedes. ‘I’ll be there soon. But it better be worth it.’

Hanging up the phone, a sense of relief washes over him. Maribel is on her way.

‘So you’ll let me go?’ he nods.

‘Who said anything about letting you go?’

‘You’re not going to kill me!’ he laughs nervously. ‘You don’t have it in you. Your biceps are just compensating for something. You’re not a killer. And this whole dead stare thing you have going on, that’s just practice, right?’

‘Do you think this is a joke?’

He laughs again nervously, ‘I’m just trying to keep things light, you know?’

It took me another ten minutes to extract all of his teeth, by which time I hear the only other sound than screaming cutting through stillness – the crunch of car tyres heralding the arrival of Maribel.

Maribel looks at me with blank countenance, but I can tell from the red flush of her cheeks she knows her jig is up.

‘Mr Lewis…’ she starts, her voice trembling slightly.

‘Come here, Maribel. Come and join your old pal.’

‘I think there is a misunderstanding,’ she stammers.

‘Is that so?’

With a deep breath she reluctantly walks towards me.

‘I’m just following orders, you know how it is. The girl, there are complications…things you don’t know about.’

My eyes narrow, ‘Complications?’

‘Yes, Mr Lewis. Boss…’

‘Boss?’

‘Mr Lewis…there must be a way to resolve this without bloodshed?’

I can see the truth behind Maribel’s eyes – the loyalty she’s claiming is nothing but a facade. Her true alliance lies elsewhere, and I’m not prepared to let this betrayal go unpunished.

‘Unfortunately for you, Maribel, sneaking around and making unauthorized phone calls behind my back shows where your loyalty truly lies, and it isn’t with me.

’ Her eyes widen in fear, but before she can utter a word my hand whips out my gun, and within an instant I fire a single shot to the centre of her forehead.

Maribel’s body crumples to the floor, lifeless.

I turn towards Christopher who is visibly shaking.

‘Is that how my father did it?’ I grin.

Christopher opens his mouth to reply, but I shake my head, grunting as I insert the barrel of my pistol into his mouth sliding against his bleeding gums. He tries to resist, squirming within his restraints as I push the gun as far as it will go, the metal sliding to the back of his throat.

‘Oh, I almost forgot!’ I roll my eyes. Switching the gun to my left hand, I reach into my back pocket for the pliers, and pinch his penis. His guttural cry pushes against the gun’s barrel as I tear off his cock. Tears stream down his cheeks as his body convulses.

‘Shush…’ I whisper pulling the trigger.

I sigh, blood spatter trickling down my face as I look at the final act of my plan.

I’d planned on the scene looking like a burglary gone wrong, so I left no stone unturned.

Shelves were smashed, glass shattered, and Maribel’s and Chris’s bodies the unfortunate casualties of an orchestrated chaos. Wrong place. Wrong time.

I slip out through the back entrance, moving swiftly and silently.

The street behind the club is deserted, no security cameras either.

There, I duck into a side street and head towards a nondescript hatchback that is registered under a false identity.

I slip away unnoticed, and as I climb into the car I’m feeling a sense of satisfaction knowing my usual car has been parked on my driveway all night, assuring my neighbours would corroborate my alibi.