Page 17 of The Criminal’s Cure

If there’s one thing about me, it’s that I stand by my actions—right or wrong.

I don’t have a lot of regrets. I rarely second guess myself. But ever since what happened with Maddie the other night, that’s all I’ve been doing. I’ve replayed those moments over and over again in my mind, and each time I do, it only gets worse.

To be honest, I’m sure if I’m more upset with myself for kissing her or for walking away. The line between us is so blurry now I wouldn’t know how to make it right if I tried. Luckily, she hasn’t given me the chance, making a damn near art of avoiding me the last couple of days.

To save myself from judgement, I haven’t told Joe or Dante what happened, although I’m sure they’ve heard about what went down at the warehouse through the grapevine. At least calling Maddie out of her date wasn’t the worst thing I did that night.

I need something to take the edge off, and lucky for me, I have one waiting down in my tombs. Russ will make the perfect target for the pent-up anger I’ve got. I wanted to let him sweat it out a bit more, but I need the release now.

Dante and Joe are waiting for me when I get to the lock-up area. They have Russ sitting at the center of the room behind a table. He’s blindfolded, hands locked into cuffs in front of him on the surface. At the sound of my footsteps, he jolts, jerking against the restraints.

“Roman! Is that you?” His voice is shaky. “Roman?”

I ignore him, striding toward Joe and Dante.

“How’s it going?”

Joe shrugs. “Still not taking any accountability. Swears it’s a big misunderstanding.”

I laugh out loud at the idea. It takes a prideful asshole to stare at the footage we have and still try to deny what he did.

“How do you want to handle this?” Dante asks.

“I’ll take care of it.” I say. This betrayal feels personal. Russ has been on my side for years. I’ve defended him. I’ve provided for him. And when I was at my most vulnerable, he turned on me.

I survey the variety of tools that they’ve laid out for me. Hammers. Drills Pliers. Blades of all different sizes and shapes. I’m feeling rather creative this afternoon, and I can think of ways to use all of these on that lying, stealing bastard. The hammer particularly catches my eye.

It makes a scraping sound on the metal table as I pick it up. I take slow, deliberate steps toward Russ, who is still squealing.

“Roman! You’ve got to listen to me, man. I didn’t do it!”

“Oh, Russ. We’re so fucking far past that.” I chuckle, closing the distance between us.

“I swear, I was going to give it all back.”

Reaching forward, I rip the blindfold from his eyes and he squints as he gets his bearings.

“You know, Russ, I believe that. I really do. You’ve always been loyal. Hardworking. And I’ve appreciated that.”

“Yeah, yeah…” He says, trying to catch his breath. “I have. You’re right.”

Hope flickers across his face, but when he sees the look on mine, it quickly fades.

“What I don’t appreciate, though, is you taking advantage of me when I was down.” I glare, hardening as I stare at him.

“Roman, that’s not… I didn’t…”

“I was at my lowest, Russ. Lost my wife… almost lost my kid... You knew I was distracted and off of my game, and instead of picking up the slack like the rest of my guys, you decided to steal from me.”

He opens his mouth like he has something to say, but nothing comes out. Before he can, I rear the hammer back and bring it down across his thumb.

“Ahhhh!” he cries out in pain, reeling back, but the cuffs won’t let him.

I raise it again, this time hitting his index finger. Slowly I work all along his right hand, snapping each finger one by one. Once I’m done there, I move to the left. Russ shrieks as his bones shatter with the force.

“Jesus, Roman! Fuck!” He yells.

“It’ll be hard to steal from anyone again with your fingers broken, won’t it?” I snarl.

“I’m sorry. I really am,” he pleads, but it falls on deaf ears. Broken fingers or not, he’s not going to have the opportunity to steal from anyone ever again.

I take the hammer back, swing with all my force toward him. Blood splatters when it hits his jaw. Another uppercut to his chin and I hear the bone crack.

It doesn’t take long for Russ to lose his spirit, collapsing against the table and taking each blow with little fight. When he’s unable to hold himself up anymore, Joe and Dante cut him loose and drag him back to his cell.

I sink down into one of the chairs, catching my breath as I rake my fingers through my hair.

Usually, this kind of thing would bring me some relief, help me blow off a little steam.

Somehow, today, though, it’s done the opposite.

If I thought this would help clear my mind of Maddie, I was dead wrong.

All I can think about now is what she’d think of what I just did.