Taking Meghan: Disciples 5

by Sweet, Izzy

  That’s fine, I’ve got all night if need be.

  Reaching up, I push his sweaty hair out of his eyes. He needs to see the mistake he just made.

  “Alright, man. That was your only chance to answer me without pain. I’m going to start causing you some now. I won’t be asking any questions during it, though. But don’t worry, you’ll have a chance to talk after I’m done,” I say as I pull the black bag from my side.

  Inside, I find all kinds of toys. Most of the metal instruments were originally meant to heal. No longer, though, Not here in this place of hell.

  “Jude, I’m going to need his right leg secured from the knee to the foot,” I say as I pull out a scalpel.

  Jude moves instantly to grab ratchet straps to help me secure the leg.

  That gets Anton’s attention. He starts trying to buck up in his chair.

  John moves to my side, preparing to calm Anton down with his fists, but I wave him off.

  Looking down at the scalpel, I examine its razor-sharp edge.

  “Ah fuck, I’m out.” John grimaces and walks away to sit with Lucifer.

  Jude looks up from Anton and shrugs his shoulder at the work of the ratchet straps. “This tight enough?”

  “Yeah, I don’t want to push all his blood down there. Don’t want him bleeding out,” I say.

  Anton has calmed a bit now. His eyes are practically bulging out of his skull, but he’s trying to play the hard-ass who isn’t scared.

  “Anton, I’m going to give your leg a skin avulsion from the knee to the foot,” I say as I cut into the jeans covering his leg. “This shit’s going to hurt, not gonna lie about that. You’ll probably pass out from this, but we’ll wait until you’re awake to ask another question.”

  He’s got a couple of tats on his leg that look like they’re straight out of the jailhouse, but they’re well done.

  That’s a shame.

  “I’m going to ruin your ink, man.”

  Lifting the pant leg up and over his knee, I look at the stars tattooed there. “Your boy here’s a made man with the Russians.”

  “Then he should have plenty to talk about,” Simon says.

  “Sure, looks like it,” I say, and then look Anton in the eyes.

  He may have given a bunch of oaths over in Russia about how loyal he is, but I doubt they’ll hold true here.

  Pushing the scalpel into his shin bone, I work slowly around his calf.

  His screams reach past his gag and fill the room with the sounds of pain.

  Blood spills out of the wound. As the life sustaining fluid runs over my hands, I almost feel like I’m washing my hands clean of ten years of restraint.

  “Jude, push down on his shoulders. James, I’m—” I start to say, but James immediately shoots me down.

  “Nope. I did a face peel with Simon recently. I’ve filled my quota,” James says, and I can tell he won’t be budged from that.

  Just what the fuck did I miss? Simon’s been doing face peels without me? Well fuck, looks like big brother has grown up without me around. I used to be the one who did shit like that for Lucifer. Now it’s like everyone has been doing my fucking job.

  “Looks like it’s just you, me, and Jude,” I say to Anton.

  Digging my fingers into the wound, I push past the hypodermis until I hit bone.

  Pulling down isn’t exactly an easy job, given all the blood. Makes things a bit slippery.

  Midway down, I stop and look up at Anton. He’s screaming and his eyes are almost rolled completely back. He’s about to go under.

  “Remember, Anton, I told you I wouldn’t ask you anything until I’m done with this,” I say, and then yank as hard as I can down his leg.

  It’s like skinning a deer. I feel the fat and hypodermis ripping away from what’s beneath it. Then I push the flesh down until it folds up like a pair of pants when a guy’s sitting on the shitter.

  “And… he’s out for the count, ref,” Jude says with a laugh.

  “He lasted longer than I thought he would,” I say as I stand up from where I’ve been kneeling.

  Anton screamed until I reached the bottom of his ankle.

  “I would have told you my mom’s social by mid-calf. Then again, that crack-headed bitch would have given me to you for a twenty spot,” Jude says with a shrug.

  He’s right, that bitch was one careless whore.

  Looking through Simon’s bag, I spot a small bag of vials with fresh needles. “You got anything to wake him up with?”

  “Yes. I stumbled across a cocktail mix a few years ago from a CIA dossier. It wakes them up pretty quickly, but it plays hell on the heart and respiratory system after too many uses,” Simon says.

  “Eh, not like this fucker’s going to need either of those in a couple of hours,” I say and hand the bag back to Simon.

  Simon quickly pulls a vial and syringe from the bag.

  Handing both of them to me, he says, “Into the neck artery is the quickest method of getting him to come around.”

  “Got it,” I say.

  Ripping the tape off Anton’s mouth, I yank the dirty gag out as well.

  “Jude, wake this fucker up,” I say as I hand him the needle.

  Like a Christmas fucking miracle, the asshole wakes up from his stupor and lets out a low moan of pain.

  Slapping his face twice brings his eyes back into focus.

  “Let’s get started with the questioning. I ask, you answer. If you need clarification, tell me so. That’s it, got it?” I ask.

  “Fuck you—” he starts to say, but I slam my fist into his balls.

  His moans like a little bitch.

  “Uh-uh. We’ve already established the routine, and that wasn’t part of it,” I say as I slap him across his sweaty face.

  When he finally quits whimpering and moaning, I ask, “Do you understand the rules that I’ve given you?”

  “Yes,” he says quietly.

  “That’s fucking grand. Is your name really Anton Yelchin?” I ask and lean over so that my eyes are looking directly into his own deep brown eyes.

  “Yes,” he answers quickly.

  “Are you a made man? You’ve got the stars.”

  He hesitates. I know why he doesn’t want to admit it, but that hesitation is going to cost him.

  “Yes,” he finally says.

  “Jude, remove his right big toe,” I say without looking away from Anton.

  Eyes wide, the man starts to struggle while sputtering, “I’m telling you the truth!”

  “I know that, Anton, but you hesitated. You didn’t want to tell me something, and I can’t allow that,” I say.

  Jude lines up the snips with Anton’s toe and the stupid fuck’s sputtering turns into screams of rage. “You can’t do this!”

  Snip.

  The sound is clearly heard over his protests before he starts screaming in pain.

  I don’t move away from, Anton. I keep my eyes directly on his even while he is screaming and spitting in my face. He needs to see me, he needs to know I’m the fucker whose causing the pain.

  I’m the man that’s become god in his shitty little world.

  When his head finally drops forward, I decide to take a breather. I head over to a wall and wipe my hands on Anton’s ripped shirt. My hands look big and bloody still, but I figure it’s only going to get bloodier.

  Walking back over, I poke around again in Simon’s bag and pull out a small spray bottle of bleach.

  Aiming it at his leg, I give five direct squirts.

  It takes his body a couple of seconds to realize that the cold liquid isn’t a soothing balm before he starts to howl so loud I swear he’s going to burst my eardrums.

  I’ve gotta admit to myself, that screaming sounds pretty fucking good.

  “Damn dude, that looks like it hurts,” James says with a laugh, coming up to stand behind me.

  “I bet it does,” I say chuckling.

  “You fucking bastard!” Anton roars out at me as he tries to wrestle
his way from the chair he’s strapped into.

  “I am.” I shrug my shoulders then punch his nose.

  Punch it hard enough that I feel it breaking.

  “Why are you fucking around in Bethlehem?” I ask.

  “You ran us out of Garden City. We want somewhere to work,” he slurs from the blood draining down his throat.

  “Who else is working with you guys?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?” he asks.

  Lashing out, I catch him in the stomach. The air inside of him explodes out in a rush and I watch his eyes go round.

  Knocked the air right out of him.

  Standing up from Anton, I look to James and Jude. “Cut off the big and baby toe on his uninjured leg.”

  “You going to work your way up his body?” Andrew asks.

  “Yeah. He needs to understand I don’t give a fuck. He answers me or he hurts. I don’t care if he’s gonna be legless by the time this is done,” I say.

  James and Jude get to work on Anton, and I have to raise my voice so I can be heard over his screams. “Lucifer, Simon. What specifics do you need?”

  “We need to know who’s funding their operation. The Yakuza theoretically have the means, but it’s not feeling right,” Andrew says as he looks to Lucifer.

  “Agreed. They recently took a chance trying to take me out at a church,” Simon says after him. “They shouldn’t have been able to find me that easily. We’ve patched up any security leaks since then, but I’m not entirely sure who’s fucking with us.”

  “The bar and Cherry’s home were very expertly done,” Lucifer adds.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “They blew up a bar with almost fifty people in it, or someone did. The men they used were out of Eastern Europe. What we can tell from the bomb forensics is that they weren’t random men. These men had military explosive experience. They made sure to do exactly what they needed with precision.”

  Fuck me. I’m not surprised Lucifer has taken over so much space, but international fucking warfare is definitely above what I was expecting.

  “Let’s get to it then,” I say as my hand slams into Anton’s testicles.

  The whimper he lets out isn’t loud enough for me, though. His leg, and everything else he’s been through, has worn on him pretty heavily.

  And I need louder. I need more.

  “Time to up my game,” I mutter to Anton. “You guys still have any of those rivet guns they used to use here for the sheet metal?”

  “Oh fuck,” James groans as he points to Jude. “I’m not holding any more bloody stumps tonight. I’ve touched too much gore lately.”

  “For shit’s sake, man.” John laughs. “You need to get your ass out from behind your sniper scope. You ain’t been doing any of the hard shit for too long.”

  “Dude, I did a face peel with Simon. That’s earned me some get out of jail free cards.” James laughs.

  “It’s going to take a couple of minutes to get it set up. Air compressor still good, Simon?” Jude asks.

  “It should be,” Simon says from where he’s perched beside Lucifer.

  Walking over to the toolbox, I pull out a bucket of metal rivets. They’re almost like nails, except these go into sheet metal. I should be able to use them pretty well with our dickhead.

  Anton is fidgeting nervously when I walk back over to him.

  Holding a rivet to his shoulder, I smirk at him. “This is about to get real painful, man. Painful, and I’m going to completely ruin all your fucking ink. That’s the one thing I feel bad about. All that ink work getting fucked up beyond repair.”

  A bloody wad of spit lands on my chest and Anton tries to stare at me with defiance. It’s not really defiance, though. There’s too much fear behind it.

  This motherfucker has something in him.

  He hasn’t spilled all the magical beans yet… but he’s going to.

  Jude walks by me with the rivet gun in his hand. His eyes are bright with an almost maniacal glee.

  Holding the gun out for me to take, he asks, “Where ya starting first?”

  “I’m gonna go with the hand first,” I say as I look to Anton’s hand.

  “You must stop,” Anton garbles out from his bloody mouth and nose.

  Spittle flies everywhere as he shakes his head at us.

  “Get his pants off completely for me,” I say as I hold the rivet gun in one hand and grab Anton’s hand with the other.

  I hold his hand firmly down.

  “What are we going to do below the waist?” Jude asks.

  “Shin bones, kneecaps, and I’ll probably rivet the ballsack to the table,” I say with a grin then squeeze the trigger of the gun.

  There’s a loud popping sound right before Anton screams.

  The rivet hit right through one of his hand bones, and I bet that hurt like a motherfucker.

  * * *

  Russians, Yakuza, and out of all the fucking things I didn’t think would be included, the fucking Irish.

  Anton spilled the beans once we shaved off all the toes on his left foot and two from his right. Not sure he why the fuck he waited so damn long. We kept going though. I wanted to know his sister’s middle name and when she lost her fucking cherry to his uncle.

  From what he got out of him, the Irish were paid to blow up the bar and Cherry’s house. They used some former Polish military to do it. The hit on Simon definitely was the Yakuza from everything Simon got off the guys, but Anton and his boys weren’t a part of that and they’re not cozying up with the Yakuza.

  Seems there’s a bunch of bad blood there we could take advantage of.

  Lucifer and Simon say that the Russians have been trying to call a ceasefire and even denied the bombings, but we just found out why. They did it through the Irish for plausible deniability. The Irish are working with them for a reason we haven’t figured out yet.

  But one thing we do know, there’s going to be a wedding tomorrow afternoon and we’re going to be attending. Some guy named Alexei is marrying the Irish boss’s daughter.

  I’ve got a headache that feels like it’s going to fucking split my fucking skull in half. I’m not entirely sure what the fuck I stepped on, but I’m willing to bet it’s a fucking landmine.

  Walking toward the exit of the building, I ask the guys, “Any of ya’ll got a light?”

  “Thought you would have quit smoking in the pen,” John says to me as he digs into his pocket.

  Taking the zippo from his hand, I say, “I did. But I still gotta roast that Russian fuck’s body.”

  “Ah.” He points to a black pickup truck out in the parking lot. “That’s your new ride, picked her out myself.”

  Looking at the big, hefty black pickup truck with tinted windows, I grin. “Good, I wasn’t looking forward to having Simon taxi my ass everywhere.”

  “I’d rather slit your throat,” Simon says from behind me.

  Shouldering the corpse we wrapped inside a plastic sheet, I smile at Johnathan. “I appreciate it.”

  “You gonna need any help with the body?” he asks as he moves too slowly beside me.

  I heard a little about the stomach wound he took from some battle on a landing strip, and I can tell he isn’t up to helping me even if he wants to.

  “Nah, brother, I got it,” I say to him.

  “Gentlemen,” Lucifer says. “Let’s get together tomorrow night at seven. Bring the family. Lily is planning a large dinner for us all. With the wedding in the early afternoon, we should have plenty of time to clean up and deal with any issues that might arise.”

  Fuck me, that doesn’t sound like my scene at all. I’m guessing Lily is the big man’s wife.

  Andrew nudges me with his elbow. “That means you, asshole.”

  What the fuck?

  “Yeah, I saw you looking for a way to get out of it. Doesn’t work like that. Lily would skin you alive for missing one of her dinners,” he says with a grin.

  “She would more than likely have me do it,”
Lucifer says as he opens the door ahead of us.

  The guys all split off as they head to their vehicles, but Lucifer sticks by my side.

  “We need to talk tomorrow evening, Gabriel,” he says calmly.

  Walking up to the back of the truck, I wait as he opens up the cover over the bed for me.

  Flopping the corpse into it, I listen to the heavy thump of the lifeless body. I’m going to dump this pile of shit right on the doorstep of the Russian Orthodox Church and see what rats come scurrying out. Might even be able to toss some gasoline onto the fire it’s going to start.

  “Yeah, when and where?” I ask as I push the hardtop back down to cover the bed of the truck.

  “At the compound, and how about six?” he asks.

  Nodding, I point over to James. “I’ll have James bring me out there. Gonna try to see Thomas after the wedding. I need to say goodbye.”

  “I see. I’ll see you tomorrow then, and Gabriel?”

  “Yeah?” I ask as I turn back from watching the rest of the men leave.

  He pulls me into a tight hug with a rough pat on my back before I have a chance to stop him. I’m pretty sure my stiff posture doesn’t bother him though, nothing ever does.

  Pulling back from me, he looks me straight in the eyes as he says, “I’m glad you’re home, and thank you for doing it for me.”

  I just stare at him. Those are the fucking last words I expected or needed to hear.

  I’d tear his throat out if I wasn’t sure I’d be bored shitless not working for him. Fuck, even now, after ten long years in the fucking pen, I’m still tempted to do it.

  Pulling the phone from my pocket, I press the open button on it. Seems pretty easy, I guess.

  “Everything on here I need to get started? Numbers and such?” I ask.

  When I went in a fucking decade ago, I was just starting to see these phones out in the public. I had a flip phone, not a personal computer in my pocket.

  “Simon has everything set up and encrypted. Everything should be good to go.”

  Looking back up at Lucifer, I ask, “What the hell’s Tinder, Plenty of Fish, and Grindr?”

  2

  Meghan