By Way of Pain: Assassins (Criminal Delights Book 12)

by J. M. Dabney

  “Coffee would be great, thank you.”

  “Milk and sugar?”

  “Black is fine.”

  I went into the small room that acted as a breakroom and poured a cup of coffee. Something about the man was off, and I didn't know what to do except treat him like any other client. The man in the outer office wasn't any different than any other shady client Cowen had taken. Something about this one put me on edge, though.

  I reentered the room and approached the stranger with a smile.

  “Thank you, Harrison.”

  I backed up quickly as his fingers caressed over mine as he took the mug. The touch wasn’t impersonal, neither was the heated gaze the man gave me.

  “Cowen has…amazing taste in men.”

  I didn't like the way he drew his gaze down my body.

  “Who are you?”

  The man lazily drank his coffee with a small smile, but his eyes turned cold, darkening.

  “Cowen has become lax in his job he does for me. I can't let his insubordination go unpunished. What kind of boss would that make me, Harrison?”

  He made my name sound like a curse, as if it was my fault Cowen wasn't doing something for him. I hadn't once demanded anything from Cowen. Didn't fight him when he left to take care of jobs since I'd promise to stay with him.

  I was about to answer when the door opened, and three men that made me look small entered with guns drawn.

  “You're going to come with us. I had thought about just having a talk with Cowen, but really, this is a better option. I can take something which belongs to him.”

  Two of the men flanked me, and the other came up behind me. I was a big man, but I wasn't a fighter, and I was no match for the barrel of a gun digging painfully into my ribs. Cowen would come for me since I belonged to him, but maybe he would think it was too much trouble. Easier just to find another toy to play with when he was bored.

  Cowen's employer set aside the mug and stood, then he did up the buttons of his jacket, smiling pleasantly at me like it was just a normal everyday conversation. Like they weren't using me for bait to lure Cowen out.

  I was confused and terrified as I let them lead me from the office and down to a limo waiting at the curb. I started to get into the car, then fell inside between the seats as one of them pushed me. Quickly I rolled onto my back and stared up at them. Their calmness was scarier than Cowen's, and I'd seen the violence and cruelty he was capable.

  “What are you going to do with me?”

  “Harrison, we need to make an example. Cowen needs to learn there are repercussions for not doing as ordered. I pay him quite well for the service he provides.”

  The stranger talked as if Cowen didn't murder people for him. Cowen was quiet and intense, self-assured to the point of arrogance, but nothing made me overly anxious around him; not like the man smiling at me as if we were speaking about the weather.

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “Well, it's quite simple, you're Cowen's weakness. I was shocked to discover that the cold-blooded bastard had a man. It's required that I know everything about my employees. Loved ones are the easiest weaknesses.”

  “Cowen won't come for me. He'll just replace me. You're wasting your time.” It hurt because I believed the statement to be true. Sir may be possessive of me, but I had no illusions that he would go out of his way to rescue me. If he came, it would be to destroy the people who dared threaten him.

  “I know quite a bit about Cowen. He committed his first murder before he reached puberty. A born killer and there has never been one as proficient as him. If you're going to be a hindrance in him working for me, then I must make an example of you. First, we'll send you to him piece by piece until he comes around to my way of thinking.”

  I'd survived the pain Cowen inflicted, but he didn't want to cause permanent damage. These men would whittle away at my body, and all they would earn was Cowen's rage. The arrogance of the man speaking to me would be his downfall. No one owned Cowen—never would.

  Just as I'd accepted that my captor would kill me weeks ago, I did the same now. I would die, and there was nothing I could do about it. All I could hope for would be that they didn't draw it out. I'd have preferred them slitting my throat and leaving me for Cowen to find when he returned.

  They would torture me as an example to a man who didn't work the way they thought. Cowen was more than a professional killer—assassin—as the man stated, Cowen was a born killer. He had the coldness and detachment from society which made him perfect for his job.

  The double life Cowen lived required control and the ability to compartmentalize. Cowen looked…ordinary. Nothing about him was exceptional. When looking at Cowen, you'd never know what he was capable of doing. Seeing behind the mask had opened my eyes to the man my boss pretended to be and held no illusions. He wanted to fuck and own me, but I knew those days were numbered. This incident would just make it happen sooner.

  It depressed me, but did I really have a place to complain?

  “Cowen will come, but it won't be for me. He doesn't love me. He'll just kill you for the fun of it.”

  The man threw back his head as he let out a belly laugh.

  “You poor boy. I don't care if he believes he loves you or not. I just want to destroy something he owns. You're only a means to an end.”

  “Then kill me.”

  “Not yet, I'm going to have some fun with you first.”

  He gripped my hair in a brutal grip, nothing like Cowen's and I turned my head, feeling the sharp burn to my scalp as I avoided him kissing me. They could do whatever they wanted to me, remove fingers or limbs, flay me alive, but they wouldn't use my body like that. That I would fight. Cowen was the only man who would ever love on me. I'd slit my own throat before I'd let this man or anyone else touch me.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cowen

  I'd found the note on my desk after I'd returned from court. For long minutes, I'd stared at the piece of paper and figured he'd gone back on his promise. It was something I'd expected, and I had no issues with fulfilling my promise to kill him. He knew too many of my secrets, yet when I read the letter that had all disappeared.

  My employer apparently had an issue with me not taking every assignment issued to me. We'd always worked under the agreement that when I was done, it was over. The man was well aware of my reputation and what this would bring down on him. He hadn't left a time or place to meet.

  I knew all their names. Their family and friends. I hadn't gone into this job without learning what I needed to survive. When I received his first inquiry, and we'd agreed never to make contact, that didn't mean I didn't have means to gather the intel for a hostile takeover.

  If they'd tried to take me out, I wouldn't have held a grudge, but they took something that belonged to me. My boy had pledged himself to me. I sealed that promise by repeatedly filling him with my cum. Once I'd felt his ass around my cock, I'd lost all control. My body was insatiable. I didn't understand why it was only for him. I'd gone to a bar I'd visited in the past to check if he'd broken something inside me.

  The men and women who'd occupied the bar, even the men who reminded me of him hadn't caused a response. I looked at them as marks—my next kill. I'd quickly left and returned to the cabin, only to find him naked and waiting on his knees beside our bed. I'd fucked his mouth until he drank every drop. The intensity of my awakening romanticisms was jarring, and I still didn't understand why it had all come to life only for him.

  All I knew was that I didn't want to be without him. He'd accepted me. He made no fuss when I left him alone to take care of my assignments. He simply waited for me to come home. Each kill made me more desperate to fuck him—the momentary euphoria of the murder prolonged by my need to take him any way I wanted. He didn't argue or protest, just submitted.

  I'd closed the office down and had put a note on the door saying we were closed due to a family emergency. I gathered supplies and mentally made a list of my target
s. I'd start from the bottom and work my way up until I reached the top, Cristo. They were so much creatures of habit. They partied at the same bars. Fucked the same men and women, it was almost as if they'd grown lazy in their complacency. They believed themselves untouchable because Cristo supposedly owned the city.

  I was the worst predator, more skilled than they knew. Killing sustained me, but there were worse things than death. I could've taken them down years ago. I had files on all of them that contained every dirty secret—where every body was buried.

  * * *

  I stood outside one of Cristo's clubs where his lower-level thugs partied. I'd changed my appearance with a wig and glued on a beard. My blade was tucked inside a sheath in my boot. I turned up the collar on my peacoat and made my way across the nearly deserted street. I was plain and drew only minimal attention. I entered the dark interior of the club.

  My gaze scanned the scene, and the four I'd picked out were scattered around the room. I approached the bar and ordered a drink, then pretended to sip at it. One of my targets was tucked into a corner with a woman. I picked up my drink, and as I neared the table, I feigned drunkenness and dropped my drink beside them. I pulled the knife from my boot as I heard him bitching about men who couldn't handle their liquor. I struck, inserted the blade between his ribs, and he didn't even have time to call out for help.

  Just as the woman came out of her shock, I blocked her from the room and drove the blade upward beneath her chin. I calmly posed them as if they were whispering to each other. I wiped the blade off on my black pants. One down, three to go. I wondered if one of them had touched my boy or even Cristo, maybe the bastard had left that job to his enforcers. Either way, tonight began the destruction of Cristo's organization.

  I placed myself with a full view of the room and spotted the next one heading toward the bathroom. Perfect, I thought to myself as I weaved through the crowd and I blinked hard at the bright lights. The bastard stood at the urinal with his cheap suit ill-fitting on his bulky frame. I sidled up a few spots down from him, and I waited. He didn't pay any attention to me, and as he finished up, he turned to wash his hands.

  My movements were graceful with years of practice as I shoved him into a stall. He fought, slamming my body back into the walls of the small enclosure. People had always taken my lack of size as a weakness. It had always turned out to be their greatest and last mistake. My arms tightened around his throat as I gripped his chin in my left hand. I jerked, hearing the crack of his neck snapping. I eased him onto the toilet. Pulling his pants down. After locking the door, I shimmied out from under the stall door.

  The last two were easier. They were secretly fucking and always escaped out back for a quick fuck in the dark of the alley. I took the exit and slipped into the shadows. This one would be harder as my patience was quickly reaching its end. I knew what they were probably doing to my boy. They were smarter than I'd anticipated, they hadn't kept him in one of the many safehouses around the city where they conducted business or held bait until the person was useful.

  My boy dying wasn't an option, but if they were stupid enough to touch what was mine, then I'd avenge him. Afterward, I'd move on to another city, maybe slip into retirement with a few freelance jobs to keep me occupied.

  Minutes past, and as I was about to reenter the bar, the door opened and the men I was waiting for exited. They were locked in each other's arms. They kissed brutally as if fighting for dominance and I was disgusted by the display. There was a sweetness in earning submission. Harrison had given it to me, and I didn't have to fight him for it after he’d accepted that he was mine.

  The bigger of the two men turned and offered his back, shoving his pants over his ass. The other came up behind him. Quickly grunts and curses filled the narrow alley. I waited until they were lost in lust and unaware of their surroundings. My soft-soled boots barely made a sound as I neared them. Even if I had walked normally, my steps would be lost in the sounds of their fucking.

  I held the hilt firmly in my hand and thrust it forward, entering at the base of the big guy’s skull and the other man yelled as the big guy fell to his knees. I cut off the man's next cry for help with an upward motion just as I'd done with the guy at the table. Piercing his back between his ribs to deflate his lung. Satisfaction filled me as I listened to the gurgling as the bastard drowned in his own blood.

  The knife was carefully cleaned and returned to my boot. I left the alley as calm as if I was taking a midnight stroll. My heart rate hadn't even picked up pace. As I started to turn the corner at the end of the block, shouts rang out from the front of the club. People stampeded from inside, and I disappeared into the darkness. Leaving nothing but bodies behind. Any trace of myself would be lost in the chaos.

  The clothes I wore were new, and I’d stored them sealed inside a bag in a locker at the local community center where homeless kept their belongings. The wig I wore was new as were the gloves I wore. I hadn't survived this long without learning how not to leave a piece of myself behind.

  A few blocks later, I found a barrel burning and deposited the wig, gloves and facial prosthetics inside. I wrinkled my nose at the scent of burning hair, leather and rubber.

  I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jacket and headed to start the next phase of my plan. The phone I used for assignments was tucked inside the inside pocket—turned off so they couldn't trace me. I'd turned it on when I settled into one of the three buildings I owned. They were all abandoned and falling down, but the perfect place to stash supplies or hide out.

  Cristo would receive my message soon enough. If he didn't realize the error of his ways, I had more lessons awaiting and what I'd do to his men, his family, would seem like a slap on the wrist compared to the hell I'd devised for him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Harrison

  My entire body ached from the beatings. They hadn't let me out of the small room. I stared at the peeling wallpaper through one eye. The other had swollen shut the day before. They hadn't started taking fingers or limbs yet, but it was all chaos in the outer room. Voices were getting louder and more panicked as I think two days passed. I'd pass out from the pain and awaken only to be reminded of where I was.

  Cowen hadn't come for me, and no one had mentioned him since they'd thrown me in this room. I wanted to cry as I realized that I'd been right and he hadn't rescued me. Part of me wanted to say yet—he hadn't come for me…yet. I didn't know what to do or why they were keeping me alive. I wanted to go home. Cowen kept me safe and happy, nothing was conventional between us, but I wanted it—missed it.

  I cried out as the door opened and tried to curl in the corner to make myself smaller.

  Cristo, Cowen's former boss, stood in the center of the room; the two men I'd started to think of as the man's enforcers—the ones who took the most pleasure in beating me—waited for the man's orders. I'd heard a couple of names, but the only one I remembered was Cristo's.

  “Your man has a way with sending messages. Do you know how many men and women Cowen has killed since I've taken you?”

  I didn't bother answering because the last time I'd done it, he'd backhanded me.

  “As of an hour ago, he's killed fifteen of my men and their whores. I underestimated his attachment to you. I've messaged him several times to arrange a meet and do you know what he's done, Harrison? Nothing.

  “I have to admit, he's smarter than the mindless killer I assumed him to be. He doesn't leave the phone on long enough for us to trace him.”

  I braced myself as he motioned to one of the men and I had no time to protect myself against the kicks and stomps from steel-toed boots. The pain and impact took my breath away. I was too weak to fight as I was hauled to my feet. My attacker held me against the wall with his hand around my throat.

  “Boss, I want to play with him.” Foul breath blew in my face as he spoke and he leaned in to stroke his oily cheek over mine.

  I cringed and started to fight—I didn't care if I won. I didn't belo
ng to anyone but Cowen. Whether he still wanted me or not, I wasn't going to let this bastard touch me. I'd take every beating, I'd even die gracefully if I needed to, but I wasn't going to let these nasty men anywhere near me. I brought my knee up and grazed the enforcer's crotch, he grunted and slammed my head against the wall. My vision swam, and pain exploded in my head. The constant headache only grew in severity with each beating.

  “Someone thinks they have claws, but no, I won't let him have you. You're going to get me Cowen.”

  I stared out the corner of my eye as I watched the man pull out a phone and start dialing. Cristo pressed the phone to his ear.

  “Cowen, I received your messages. I am amazed at your skill. But don't I have something you want?” The phone was suddenly beside my face. “Say hi.”

  “Cowen? I want to come home—”

  “Isn't that sweet, your disposable piece thinks you want him to come home. My boys are having so much fun with him. You have twenty-four hours to make contact. After that, I send him to you a bit at a time.”

  The call was disconnected, and I sagged against the wall, tears streamed from under my lashes. When my throat was released, I fell to the bare wood floor. My ribs ached, but the pain in my chest was worse. My time was running out. All I had was one more day before they carried through with their threats. I had to believe that Cowen wanted to keep me. He'd gone through so much trouble, and he'd killed for me. Multiple people. They'd taken something that belonged to him, and he was enacting his revenge.

  He was a ruthless man. Killing was how he dealt with his problems. I could take a bit of pain if it was just to stay alive until he showed up.

  Cristo crouched in front of me and studied me like I was an oddity in a freakshow of old.

  “What did you do to make Cowen turn all soft?”

  Him implying Cowen was soft forced a laugh out of me. “There's nothing soft about him. He has no empathy. How many jobs has he pulled for you? How many people has he killed for a paycheck?”