by Sweet, Izzy
Three months after Christmas
“Hold him still, Andrew. I can barely work with him squirming around like this,” I say as I wrestle with the man’s hand.
The gag shoved in this fat sweaty asshole’s mouth is crammed in tight, but it does little to silence the pleading squeal of his beet-red face. He’s most likely desperately trying to tell us all his dirty little secrets, but it’s too late for that now.
“Simon, I thought we agreed that there would be no removal of body parts…” Lucifer says quietly behind me as I hear him walk into the room.
“I’m not removing anything that belongs to him. The only thing I need is his prints,” I say as I finally slam the man’s hand down into the square plate. Its clear gelatin oozes around the hand a moment before I yank it back out.
Pushing the plate to the side, I motion to Andrew. “Let’s get his left hand and then he can disappear.”
“Thank god, this man’s sweat smells like boiled fucking cabbage,” Andrew says before wrestling with the second hand.
“So, you don’t count his identity as belonging to him?” Lucifer asks with a chuckle, perching himself on an old metal shop desk. “It hardly seems fair… But then again he did steal from us.”
“No one but our inner circle may keep their identities intact, Matthew. Anyone who run afoul of us… they lose the choice of having anything of their own,” I growl out. “Embezzlers like this piece of trash go to the lowest level of hell for betraying us.”
“Isn’t the ninth level set for treachery? Then again, I suppose stabbing one’s boss in the back, as well as stealing, could be looked upon as treachery. Though, if I remember correctly, fraud is on the eighth tier,” Lucifer says with a smile.
“You damn ecclesiastical types,” Andrew mutters before pushing the left hand in front of me.
Grabbing the hand, I press it firmly into the clear mold before pulling it back out. “You see, Andrew… We didn’t even need to use violence to solve this little issue.”
“That’s fine with me.” Andrew stands up as he pulls the man sharply back down in the chair. “Stay the fuck there, Eugene.”
Motioning for Lucifer, I point to Eugene Bancroft, our latest debtor. One who decided to steal from the very hand that feeds him. “All the money and information has been turned over to us. I also spoke with Marco, he’s been updated and paid back his missing portion of what we’ve been able to find.”
“Able to find?” Lucifer turns serious. “How much are we missing?”
“One point two million…” I say as I look back to Eugene. “Two hundred thousand of that went to gambling in Vegas and a long weekend of coked out crack whores.”
“Jesus Christ. How the fuck do you blow through two hundred thousand dollars on crack whores in Vegas?” Andrew bursts out laughing.
Eugene begins to scream through his gag at the three of us, but it’s silenced as soon as James walks into the room.
As usual the damnable playboy is fashionably late as he calls it. If Lucifer didn’t have such a soft spot for the lazy man, I would have strung him up long ago.
James slaps the butt of his gun against the side of Eugene’s head before walking over to the desk to sit beside Lucifer. “What did I miss?”
Grunting his displeasure, Lucifer says, “Simon was just telling us how Eugene here spent two hundred thousand dollars on a coke-fueled long weekend in Vegas with, as he put it, crack whores.”
“Three hundred and twenty thousand,” James says dead faced to us all.
I know I’m blinking in confusion as I ask, “Three hundred and twenty thousand what?”
“Oh, fuck me…” Andrew groans.
“Are you serious, James?” Lucifer asks in genuine amazement.
“What are you all talking about?” I ask harshly. I hate when they pull this kind of shit.
There is no possible way that James has found the money I haven’t been able to track down yet. I know it’s been working its way through a very complex system of funnels. So far I’ve tracked down fifty-two different banks it has been routed through. That this pile of human excrement has caused me three sleepless nights of searching through countless statements and business transactions….
He’s crafty, I will give him that.
But it’s now only a matter of time until the tracer bots running through my computer systems locate the final destination. I don’t worry about that. It’s James spitting out such a random number that is annoying me. He doesn’t deal with this side of the business.
“Three hundred and twenty thousand dollars… I thought we were comparing weekends of regret,” James says with a shrug.
Eugene groans loudly from his chair and a red trail of blood leaks down the side of his neck from where James hit him.
“How in the bloody hell did you spend three hundred and twenty thousand dollars on a long weekend?” I ask, and for once I find myself speechless at the playboy’s idiocy.
“She called it the girlfriend experience,” he says with another shrug, as if that’s supposed to explain everything.
“Oh, for shit’s sake, James,” Andrew rumbles with laughter.
“James…” Lucifer says with almost fatherly patience. “What in the world were you thinking? And when was this?”
Looking up at the ceiling, James thinks to himself. “About four weeks before those girls we pulled away from the Russian’s slave ring got grabbed up.”
“Are you serious? I was expecting this to happen a couple of years ago, when you were still young and stupid,” Lucifer laughs as he slaps James on the back of the head.
“Hey, I’m still young, and probably, stupid. At the end of the weekend, I proposed to her,” James says with a weak grin.
No one says a word for a solid minute. All of us are staring at him in absolute shock.
“What did she say?” Andrew asks, finally breaking the silence.
“She didn’t. She took the rock and disappeared in the middle of the night.”
Running his hand down his face, Lucifer begins to chuckle. “And this, Simon, is why we love our dear James so much.”
“Thank the gods he isn’t dumb enough to ever procreate,” Andrew laughs as he looks to me. “He’s going to die in an old fuck’s home with you, Simon. Alone and miserable!”
Rolling my eyes, I turn away from the neanderthals before I’m tempted to shoot one of them. Self-control is the key to my job. If I didn’t have it, I would be in deep shit. Not that I’m not already in over my head.
“So, what are we doing with fuckstick?” James asks.
Setting the molds of Eugene’s hands carefully into the black bag I brought and pulling off my latex gloves, I look over my shoulder at him. “Lucifer wants a message to be sent to any and all.”
“Yes, we’re going to be going back to an oldie but goodie, boys,” Lucifer says with a grin.
* * *
“Ride with me, Simon. Andrew can drive your SUV to the site,” Lucifer says as we walk out of the old sheet metal warehouse.
Grunting loudly as he walks towards James’s black BMW, Andrew says, “Yeah, but I’ll put this pile of shit in James’s trunk. No need for him to be kicking around in the back of an SUV.”
“Asshole,” James grouses at Andrew.
“Shouldn’t have been late, little buddy,” Andrew laughs out loudly.
“I was… Ah, fuck it,” James starts before cutting himself off. He slaps Eugene on the head with his pistol again before he says, “You better be fucking quiet, asshole. I got music I want to hear.”
We walk to Lucifer’s own SUV and climb into the backseats. The heat is blowing heavily onto us. Peter up front is rubbing his black leather gloved hands together as he watches us shut the doors.
Peter leans further around the seat to look at us both. “Cold enough out there for you guys?”
“A bit too much... It doesn’t feel quite like home, what with all the freezing temperatures.” Lucifer grins at us both before leaning back into his seat.
Of course the boss, Lucifer, likes it hot as hell in Garden City. It’s when all the crazy spills its blood over the brim of the cup. Now that we’ve become the largest enterprise in Garden City, Lucifer has been looking forward to another heat wave.
I think at times that he would like to watch the whole place burn, just for the amusement factor of it all.
I, on the other hand, prefer the cold and dead of winter. It’s the only time the hot, sticky humidity is gone from this hellish city. Neither I, nor my computers, enjoy all that warmth and humidity in the air. Like my machines, a cold environment is good for us. It’s easier to keep things sterile and predictable. Introduce moisture into any computer or electronic and it leads to instant failure.
I don’t like failures, not of my machines and not from people. Why the hell we can’t live in a city where it is cold and dry all the time causes me frustration. My computers and sense of sanity would benefit so much more from it.
“So where to? Still want to go to the docks?” Peter asks.
“Yes, we need to make a drop-off. Did you remember to bring the stuff I asked you about?” Lucifer answers.
“Yeah, I have it in the back.”
“Good.”
Peter turns back around and nods his head. “Your… sister… has been calling boss.”
“Thank you, Peter. Did Meredith say what she wanted?”
“She demanded that you speak with her,” Peter says as he pulls the vehicle out of the empty parking lot.
And right there I can feel all the blessed cold that was still wrapped into my bones evaporate instantaneously. My heart rate reaches an uncomfortable level as I look over to watch Lucifer’s face to gauge his reaction.
Does he feel the disturbance in the air as I do? Just the very mention of that name causes my body to react in unacceptable ways.
“And what, pray tell, does my dear sister demand of my attention?”
“Accommodations, money, accommodations… Simon is becoming unbearably restrictive. Should I continue?”
“No. I believe I get the gist of what she wants to speak about.”
“Good enough. Can I let her calls go to voicemail for the rest of the night? Even I can only stand the sound of her voice for so long boss.”
Rolling his eyes, Lucifer nods his head, “Yes.”
Restrictive my ass. If it wasn’t for my rules and way of doing things, she would be dead in a gutter in some back alley in Morocco. If I didn’t have her on strict lockdown in the safe house, she would be putting herself, and by extension me, in more danger than is allowed.
I can’t explain what made me take such a dangerous step in insanity. Taking her safety on as my own responsibility. Taking my self-control and throwing it to the damn wind. I don’t have an excuse.
She’s… she’s… the damn devil’s temptress.
The thought of her is as intoxicating as it is angering. She should not have this hold over me.
This… this…
I have no words for what I feel. In the mornings, since she has returned, I have driven myself to drastic measures by abusing my body in the gym. I’ve never pushed my body so hard before to purge itself of these desires. These damning thoughts.
If only I could quit thinking of her in my every waking moment.
Her voice is made of pure silk. Her eyes the deepest golden brown I have ever seen. Her dark, raven black hair falls down past her shoulders in natural waves. Her skin, I can find no flaws in it like I see in so many others. It’s tan, but it’s not one of those tans from a bottle or tanning booth. It’s natural.
She has a natural scent to her when I brush by her. It’s understated, but there. I never see her putting on perfume, but I smell it on her nonetheless. I’m not sure what attracts me to her more, her physical appearance or the fact that she absolutely infuriates me to no end.
I don’t know if she is knowingly torturing me or if it’s because I have deprived myself for so long, but I feel the delicate strands of my existence stretching far beyond their limits.
“Where are we at with her… issues?” Lucifer asks in a frustrated voice.
Meredith pains him almost as much as she does me, but for entirely different reasons.
She’s been a thorn in his side since they were children. Now that she’s a full-grown adult, I’ve been the one who’s had to keep her whims at bay. She may hate her brother for her own reasons, but she’s never failed to come to him with open hands expecting everything. Whether she deserves what she takes from him or not, she expects it.
“The Saudis are very upset over the loss of Prince Amir’s son, Ahmed. Regardless of what happened, they’re furious over the mystery surrounding it and the large amount of money he was worth to them. They want her back,” I say, then hold my fingers up in quotation marks. “For questioning.”
“The man has eight sons. From what you said, Ahmed wasn’t even in favor with his father. How much are they asking for?” Lucifer asks in annoyance.
“Money isn’t going to work on this, I believe. They consider this a matter of honor”
“Their honor can suck a pig’s dick,” Lucifer snaps. “How much did you offer them?”
“His net worth was about three million without his father’s backing. It’s a paltry sum compared to what the father is worth. I’ve offered triple the amount, and they’re not biting. They are now increasing their threats to our operations,” I reply.
“What kind of threats?”
“Nothing substantial, yet,” I say. “But they are making threats to our well-being and our foreign interests when it comes to our holdings overseas.”
“They don’t have the clout for that. No one is willing to work with them. Not even the Russians. They have no real stake in our daily lives. It doesn’t make sense,” he says.
“They don’t have to make sense to cause us trouble though,” I say, shrugging.
“Simon, how the hell did this all come about? I thought you were keeping tabs on the damn brat.”
“I was and am,” I say evenly, but my blood runs cold. If he only knew the intensity of my surveillance.
The sheer amount of man-hours I’ve personally put into watching her live feeds and recordings. The men I had tailing her and watching her. The prince had his own security service, but my men were the damn professionals. They should have caught this damn mishap before it started.
That I’ve been watching her for the past years as an almost obsession…
“What happened, Simon? What is she not telling us?” he asks.
Looking out at the dark sky, I watch as the moon tries to break through the bleak skies, but it’s no use. The forecast calls for freezing rain and then more snow. The heating bill will be going through the roof thanks to how hot the safe house must be kept for this insufferable woman.
What happened, indeed? That’s the big question.
“She slipped my men and my surveillance team on the docks. She wasn’t even supposed to know of our presence, and from all indications she still has no clue of the protections you and I had in place for her.”
“How?” he asks, and he sounds almost as annoyed as I am about the situation.
“I’ve watched the surveillance over and over. I’ve watched from multiple angles and feeds. His team blocked ours off with expert efficiency. None of his team has shown this level of competence before. None. They aren’t local thugs, but I would only put them one rung above.”
“So…”
“So they expertly blocked off our men, and all the surveillance cameras on the yacht went offline halfway through their cruise.”
“What’s Meredith saying?”
“She won’t talk. I could use…”
“No, not yet,” he cuts me off.
“Have you thought about questioning her yourself, Matthew?” I ask with a chuckle.
That would be an interesting occurrence. If it’s anything like Christmas dinner, it would be a rather profanity-ridden affair.
Meredith, how I loathe the cr
ass American woman you turn into when you aren’t around the wealth and pomp you are so used to.
She turns in to a downright nasty hellcat. I’m strongly doubting my resolve not to chain her up to a bed for a good spanking.
“I’d rather not have to deal with her at the moment. Lily and the children have been begging for an addition added onto the house. They believe if we have more rooms, then there could possibly be another brother or sister in the future.”
I’d rather puke than have those types of burdens. “Yes, I can see how that is an issue.”
“Children aren’t the evil you think them to be, Simon,” Lucifer chuckles.
“If you say so, Matthew,” I reply and turn back to him. “Eugene will be a complication no longer. He has also added even more of a tie for us to the Italians. We are the proverbial golden teat.”
“Finding a good investment banker who knows how to launder a large amount of money is becoming harder to find,” he says.
“Is this why you’re having me look at another disease infested strip club?” I ask.
“Well, we do want to look legitimate,” he snickers at my discomfort.
He knows my… distaste for the dirty, fluid-filled, sour smelling, unwashed attendees of these type of operations. I know he finds perverse pleasure in sending me into them for appraisals.
“There are many other establishments we could be investing in. I think there are even a couple of banks we could scoop up through one of our off-shore companies.”
“How many are you thinking?” he asks as he looks over to me with interest.
I knew that would get his attention away from Meredith. I could just tell he wanted to get back into it with what’s happening.
“Three. The two remaining West Liberties and the last of the Provident Banks of Garden City. This would be an excellent way to head into a more legitimate direction for Adam.”
“Indeed, it would. What would be the term of ownership before we could sell them to him?”
“I’d give it fifteen years. We would, of course, be able to tap into new markets in that time. With the local unions being much more trusting of us than a banker group from another city.”