Sin, page 27
38
Present…
FUCKING IDIOTS.
We’re about two hours from The Loop and on Lake Michigan standing a little way down from a power plant outside of Milwaukee. London is here. Being held here. Her locket is pinging with a signal and coming from a run-down warehouse toward the east side of this property.
It could be storage.
Could be a structure that they’ve been meaning to tear down and haven’t.
Could be that after the workday is done and employees go home to their families, someone has been letting criminal activity take place on the premises. Someone, like the balding fuck currently slumped over his desk chair inside the central office.
However, I will thank the man for having the CCTV live system off and the recorder looping through footage from last week. Saves me time.
Ready and in position. ~Javi
Hold~ Malcolm
My eyes scan the surrounding buildings and the lone structure where they hold London. No one seems to be on high alert. Monitoring the entrances. They’re doing a shit job at surveillance.
Overconfidence is a disease many people suffer from. Too cocky. Too stuck within the it’ll never happen mind frame, and this reeks of it.
Of narcissism on a level that is dangerous.
They’re lazily watching the front and back, and yet, the few assholes Alton put together as guards are laughable. Incompetent. Five in total and spread out, the men all imbibing. High. Too busy snorting coke and playing with the cheap guns given to notice they’re surrounded on all sides.
“Boss,” Carmelo speaks low beside me, looking through a pair of binoculars toward the entrance. He left the hospital to join me after I sent Michael to take his place. “We have movement. Hayes and Jimmy are outside talking, and Alton has gone inside.”
“And the whore?”
“Getting high as a kite inside of Alton’s car.” The car in question, a blue Mustang, begins to inch forward and then stop. It does this three times until Brittany lowers the window and sticks her head out, yelling out something to Hayes.
The man ignores her.
Jimmy ignores her.
She doesn’t like it and pulls away from them to do a reckless donut between the building and a few old trees. The rubber burns on the asphalt, blowing smoke around the car as it spins. Any other time, I’d watch the idiot kill herself all day, but right now, I’ll need her to stay alive long enough to become a scapegoat.
“How much did her supplier gift her?” Looking at my phone, I send a message to Javier.
Now ~Malcolm
Carmelo chuckles. “Enough to kill a bull.”
“Good. Make sure she doesn’t leave the property.” Adrenaline pumps through my veins and I take my gun out, checking the magazine and cocking it. My body is vibrating with excitement. With anger.
The demon I keep hidden within wants blood and vengeance. To kill. To make them pay for every single minute of fear my Twirl has lived through.
I count to ten and crack my neck, watching as the guard walking close to where I stand hits the floor with two bullet wounds to the chest. My eyes close, and I wait for Javier’s signal. For confirmation that everyone but the three main culprits are dead.
Two minutes pass and my phone vibrates. My eyes snap open to read his one-word reply.
Done. ~Javi
Good. Have them clean up and set the stage. ~Malcolm
Already on it. Meet you in ten. ~Javi
I pocket my phone and walk through the lot toward the entrance casually. Carmelo is already with Brittany, turning off the vehicle and pulling her out. She’s screaming and throwing punches while Hayes and Jimmy scramble to grab their guns.
My steps don’t falter as I raise my gun and fire three shots at Jimmy. The first misses by a hair, but the second and third lodge themselves deep into his chest. He staggers and I fire another two, this time hitting his stomach.
Blood drenches his shirt as his body falls. It pools all around him, staining the ground as he takes his last few breaths.
From the corner of my eye, I see Javier making his way to me with another two men.
“You’re a dead son of a bitch,” Shawn yells out as a bullet flies by my head. He fires another and again misses. I return the favor and don’t, hitting his hand with the Glock. “Fuck!”
It falls to the ground and I put my own away, preferring to use my knife on him. “You want me? Come get me.”
“Karina was too good for you, asshole.” He charges toward me as I flip the blade out, his body colliding with mine as we hit the ground. Hayes is quick to mount me, throwing a punch that lands on my jaw. It cuts my lip, and I return the favor by embedding the blade of my knife deep into his thigh and twisting it.
His screams are loud. Like the bitch he is.
I’m quick to buck him off and stand up, leaving the blade in his possession. “Did that hurt, Agent? Need help?”
“You ruined everything.” He follows me up to his feet, putting the bulk of his weight on the opposite leg. “We were going to be happy together. Had plans to elope.”
“Quit lying to yourself. You never had the means to keep her happy.”
“Shut the fuck up,” he growls out, his hand on the handle of my knife. With a quick yank, he pulls it out, gritting his teeth as the shock of pain travels through his body.
But I don’t. I taunt. Push every single button he has.
I begin to circle him, walking just close enough for him to reach if he dares. I’m counting on his rage. “She was a selfish and greedy whore that deserved all ten bullets I put into her body.”
I’m ready for him when he lunges, and with a quick turn of my arm flip him over my shoulder. Shawn lands hard on his back but has enough mind to lash out when I turn, cutting my arm. It’s not deep, but burns, and I punch him twice in retaliation.
His nose cracks, a sickening sound as blood gushes from the nostrils. “I’m going to kill you.” Again, he makes a slicing motion, and I grab his wrist easily, bringing the knife toward his throat. He fights it, tries to push me off, but I use the momentum of my body weight to move the point of the blade to right below his Adam’s Apple.
“Accept your fate with dignity,” I grunt, adding pressure as the end pricks his skin. His mouth opens to reply, but before he can spew some other bullshit, I shove the blade straight through his neck.
Shawn’s body goes limp after a minute and I stand, leaving the knife where it is for now.
“We have an hour between a tip being sent to the police and their arrival. Marcelles and Monahan will be shortly behind since this involves one of their own.” Carmelo catches up with me as I pull out my gun with the full magazine and walk toward the door. “She’s almost comatose and not going anywhere. Weapons are ready and with her fingerprints. Clean-up crew is staging the rest…let’s get them out, and fast.”
“Agreed.” I don’t waste another minute and kick the door in when I reach the entrance. Every gun beside me cocks, but it’s my bullet that dislodges when I find him over her body on the floor. It hits his side, causing him to scramble off and land on his back.
London’s eyes are wide and full of panic, yet behind that choking fear I see her relief when she spots me by the door. Without another conscious thought, she pushes herself off the floor and runs to me, jumping into my arms and holding tight. Every part of her wraps itself around me.
Tight, not a single inch of space is left between her body and mine.
Her entire form is shaking. Mumbling something that I can’t quite make out, but when I try to pull her back a bit, she refuses to move with a shake of her head.
“I’m here, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay.”
“Not until he’s dead.” Twirl’s voice comes through then, monotone and ice cold. “They have to die.”
“Alton Foster was never going to make it past the end of this week—”
“Now.” She shudders, a sob catching in her throat as she pulls back to look me in the eye. Those sweet lips I love tremble, tears rushing down her cheeks as I take in the bruise forming on her skin. How pale she is from the shock and trauma.
A million deaths wouldn’t be enough for this fucker.
“Tell me how I can make this right for you. Whatever it is, it’s done.” My men move around us, Carmelo and Javier sending London sad looks. Alton is picked up from the floor and forced to sit in a chair near a pole. My guess is that’s where he kept her. Tied her to by the broken skin of her wrist. “Seeing you like this is killing me, love.”
“He killed her, Malcolm. They fucking killed my parents.”
Motherfuck, he told her. “I know.”
“You did? When…why didn’t—”
“My investigator looked into their deaths, and the results of his findings were inside my email this morning. I’ll show you the time and date if you need me to, London.”
“I’m s-sorry, I—”
“Shhh, none of that. I’m not looking for an apology, and you’ve done nothing wrong.” Lowering her to the ground, I wait until she’s on steady feet and pull back. Force her eyes on mine with the tip of my finger. “Just tell me how I can make this right.”
She nods and squares her shoulders, coming to terms with whatever decision she’s made. “No one can, but you could lend me your gun.”
“My gun?”
“Yes.” Her eyes flick toward a groaning Alton, and that darkness I’ve seen glimpses of comes to the forefront. The tears stop for the moment, and her lip curls over her teeth in a snarl. The pain is there, but that need for retribution is growing by the second, and I understand it. Her. “Give it to me, Malcolm. No more questions.”
“As you wish.” I hand over my Eagle and watch as she gauges the weight. Admires its power.
Twirl looks at me then from under her long lashes, those beautiful blue orbs full of love and appreciation. “I love you.” That’s all she says, making her way toward her step sibling with slow and sure steps. She doesn’t pause or so much as blink. Her arm doesn’t shake when she raises it, nor does her finger twitch.
One pull. One bullet.
The kickback is stronger on this gun, but she manages to keep it steady somehow. Then again, the human body is capable of miracles when a person is determined.
At close range, she blows his skull in with no remorse. No tears. No screams.
Instead, she watches as his head flies back and the wall behind him is a work of art—eccentric splatters of blood and other matter.
He’s dead, and she’s safe.
One more to go after I adjust the crime scene. I’ll take what I need and leave a high—overdosing Brittany behind to take the fall for both murders.
“Are you ready, love?” I ask, coming to a stop behind London. She’s in our bathroom putting on a pair of diamond earrings I gave her for this occasion. The dinner downstairs is in her honor and with a very special guest.
She’s a vision in her white dress. A Grecian inspired.
An elegant yet sinfully sexy white lace dress with a deep V at the front and a long skirt. It’s tight. Perfectly molds against every dip and curve with a side split that I plan to rip later and fuck her while she wears the tatters.
“Pervert.” Her eyes meet mine in the mirror. Those ruby red lips and soft brown curls accentuate the cerulean of her eyes. How bright they are. How devilish she is.
Because while this little girl will always hold a certain air of innocence about her, she’s no longer pure. London’s taste are ever changing. Morphing. As the week since her kidnapping passed, she has come into her own.
She wants this life. With me.
Craves the darkness I control.
There isn’t a single ounce of remorse for what she did, and I’m proud of her. Have let her lead when it comes to how the Foster story ends.
“For you? Always.” My hands skim down her spine, and she shivers. Over her ass, and she lets out the sexiest kittenish sound. “Ready to play?”
“With you? Forever.” She turns around, and in her heels almost reaches my chin, which she bites. “Now, let’s go celebrate.”
As we descend the stairs, the noise of conversations infiltrates and her smile grows. My family is here, and she loves them as much as they do her.
The formal dining room is full when we enter. My mother and father, Javier and Mariah, and lastly Marcus, sit around our table. All dressed to the nines, while the last, like he’s been inside of a padded cell and is seeing the light for the first time in years. He’s skittish. Afraid. Pussy.
“Evening.” All voices cease as we enter, walking to the front where I pull out London’s chair and she waves to the room. A whimper comes from the opposite end, but we ignore him as we take our place at the head.
“You two look rested,” Mariah comments, bringing her glass of wine to her lips and taking a sip. “Playing hooky looks good on you.”
“Best nap of my life,” I reply, winking at my cousin while the others chuckle. Magda comes in then; her dress is all black and for mourning. She walks around the room in silence and places a plate in front of everyone with a domed lid. Every plate is empty except one.
His.
A starving Marcus that hasn’t eaten in over three days.
“May I?” comes from where he sits, a low and meek voice that resembles nothing of the man he once was.
“You may, but first I have an important question for you, sir.” I stand and walk across the room to where he sits and pull a chair out beside him. Sit and wait for him to have the decency to address me. “Aren’t you curious?”
The position I have him in is the perfect vantage point for the cameras recording this, a live feed that Thiago is watching from his home in Miami. Because while he understands the cause and effect—the rapid pace in which Alton was killed or how it came to be—for this one he wants front row seats to the show. Something London agreed with wholeheartedly when I explained.
Was actually her idea that we find an encrypted server through the dark web. Something that with money isn’t hard to do.
“Where’s Alton,” he asks, instead, hands clenching atop the table. “Where is my son?”
“You’ll see him soon enough.” A giggle escapes London, and Marcus looks at her. His eyes turn hard, cold—the hate toward her is palpable.
“Sorry.” I know her, and she’s anything but. “Just remembered something I heard a few days back.”
“Behave, love,” I chuckle and look back at an angry shell of a man. A man that can never hurt her again. Whose last minutes on this earth will be spent in total misery. Because for as much of a piece of shit as Marcus is, the asshole did love his son. Is going to die because of his innate ability to see no wrong in him. “Marcus, the reason I brought you here today is because I’d like to ask you for London’s hand in marriage. I promise to always take care of her. Spoil her. Place the world at her feet because she deserves that and so much more. I love her.”
He doesn’t say a word. He’s fuming in his silence.
“Oh, honey!” my mother exclaims from across the table, clapping her hands together in excitement. “I’m so happy for you both. She’s perfect for you and this family.”
“Welcome to the family, London.” This time it’s my father who talks, and he raises his glass in a toast they all follow. And still, no response from the man who raised her.
“See how happy she is? How fucking beautiful?”
“Bring me to Alton. I need to see my son.”
“Of course. But first…” I lift the lid of his dome where a decent-size portion of a filet sits in a reduction sauce. Specially prepared for him. “Bon appetite.”
“I’ll wait until after—”
I slam a hand atop the table, tipping his goblet of water over. “Pick up that knife and fork before I shove the entire plate down your throat.”
All eyes are on his as he does what I ask, picking up the utensils and cutting into the medium-rare piece of meat. His hand trembles as he brings the small bite to his mouth and chews. There is no savoring. No appreciative noises.
Almost as if he knows…
“Can I see him now?”
“Another bite.”
“Please, I just—”
“Two more.”
Marcus nods, picking up the next piece and practically swallowing. A dry swallow at that. Then another, larger this time. When he finishes, he pushes his plate away and looks at me with hopeful eyes.
“What?” I ask, not understanding the perplexity of his expression.
“Can I see him? No more games, Malcolm.” He’s near tears. Beyond desperate. “Just let me see my son.”
“You already have. He’s been here the entire time.” I’ve never seen the world come down on a person’s head before, and the interpretation in front of me is amusing. The look in his eye—the retching that follows as the tears pour from him—it’s nothing compared to what they were willing to do to an innocent woman for monetary gain. Leaning forward, I meet his stare with a devilish grin. Neither conforming nor denying his worst nightmare. “Make of that what you will.”
“No. NO!” He shoots up from his seat, his blazing eyes set on London. “This is all your fault. I’ll kill you, bitch!”
“I pulled the trigger, too.” Twirl taunts, her grin matching mine. “My face was the last one that sick bastard saw.”
“After everything we did for you? How we took you and that cunt—” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as London shoots him square in the chest, creating a domino effect. My gun follows, as does every person inside this room. A bullet for each member, and then two more for her parents.
Marcus Foster bleeds out in my dining room, a mass of failure. A product of greed.
“Thank you,” my girl says then, pulling my attention to her gorgeous eyes. They are happy. Full of relief. “And the answer is yes. A thousand times yes.”
“It wasn’t a question, sweetheart.” Taking her hand in mine, I slip the large princess-cut diamond ring I’ve carried with me all day onto her ring finger. Where it will stay until we leave this earth. “You’re mine, and I am yours. Fated.”
