“Try fucking me now, cunt.” Dani removed the blade. Blood gushed from the wound, spraying Corey’s legs and Dani’s boots. Dani stepped back, watching him bleed out. He wouldn’t survive the night. Dani stepped to a puddle, paused, and dipped her boots in them, washing the blood off. Corey, a mumbling, shaking wreck, curled into a ball. Dani felt a hint of a smile on her face. It tugged at the scar lines, which prompted her to stop.
She turned to the unconscious Alan, who was spread-eagled on the floor.
“What are we going to do with you?” Dani whispered to herself.
She had some ideas. The smile returned this time. It didn’t leave her face.
FOURTEEN
Dani sipped her coffee and waited.
The hot, bitter liquid tingled on her interior cheek scars, a feeling that subsided with every lush mouthful. She remembered the first time she’d drank coffee, six weeks after major facial surgery, and how she’d yelped at the flash of pain, the black drink spilling over her pale chin. Luckily it had been hospital issued, so it was lukewarm and no serious injury occurred, but from that day forward Dani had been cautious with her hot beverages. Her mother never let her drink the stuff, probably for the same reasons her brother couldn’t consume fizzy drinks, so when she’d discovered it, coffee became the first real thing she could call hers, the first exciting discovery of her adult life.
A year ago. She remembered the moment as if it occurred yesterday.
She thought back to Teddy and her mother, bickering over the slightest little thing, over too many video games, and the consumption of cola and bread before dinner. Remembered how the memory stung of a loving fondness, a prickly adoration, one that warmed her heart and, a year ago, would have reduced her to tears.
That was before.
This is now.
Teddy’s face slammed into her consciousness, heavy and colossal, like a high-resolution photograph thrust in her face. She gasped, surprised, shocked at the clarity of the vivid visage. She saw her brother chuckle, his cheeks rosy with exertion as he toppled off the second stair onto the new carpet, cursing as he got his pyjama legs tangled beneath his feet. She could hear his innocent voice, smell the Imperial Leather soap that he denied loving, but secretly could not live without. Every evening, after dinner, he would wash his chubby hands with it, in the upstairs bathroom. She’d caught him sniffing them on more than one occasion, in secret, her brother oblivious to his big sister prying and spying. Until, one fateful evening, he’d turned around. She remembered laughing and pointing, and he responded in his normal way. “Don’t you tell anyone, you cow, you…dobber boffin face!”
Dobber boffin face.
She blinked and the memory of her brother dissipated, pushed to a dark recess of her brain. For the first time in months, a tear slowly rolled down her cheek. She slapped it away, furious.
Damn it, tears are for the weak.
You’re just tired.
Or, it’s because you have one of them, him, right there, in front of you.
You can finally do something; you can start to seek vengeance. For Teddy. For Mum. This is the plan, coming to fruition. An extensive, detailed, well-laid plan that’s about to kick-start into action.
She looked at her paper cup, shook it, and narrowed her eyes. Dani glanced at the dishevelled wig on the table, a short spiky hairdo purchased from a small store in Soho, the one she’d used to fool Corey and Alan. Using the bottom of her cup, she brushed it gently.
Slight movement ahead averted her attention.
She checked her watch slowly. Seven hours. Impressive.
Dani ran her hands through her scraggly hair and down to her shoulders, interlacing her fingers at the back of her neck and flexed, pushing on her spine, stretching away the tiredness from her torso. She ached and creaked in places, but she had work to do. She gulped the remainder of her cold coffee and sighed.
Yeah, carrying the fucker from the car hadn’t helped. Dead weight.
Dani stood up, pushing her chair aside, and strolled over to her motionless captive. She kept her distance; walked slowly, observing, ensuring she didn’t move too fast. Sure, she was tired, but rushing wouldn’t solve a thing, the situation needed to play out normally.
She imagined a voice-over in a movie saying those exacts words and shook her head.
Dani stopped several metres short, stood still and watched.
She’d strapped Alan to a metal chair. His zip-tied hands looped beneath his seat, unmovable, restricted by the steel legs pinning them in place. His feet were flat, his ankles tied tight to the chair legs. His chin was low, not quite touching his chest, which expanded shallowly, slowly. The breathing was controlled and rhythmic; he wasn’t quite awake yet.
Dani leant down and pulled a folding stool from the wall. She opened it and placed it a few feet before her captive. She didn’t sit. She merely stood watching, waiting.
She waited five minutes before Alan moved again.
This time, his eyes opened.
“Urghhhh…” Alan rolled sideways in his chair, his equilibrium catatonic. His eyes darted left and right, squinting, offended by the bright light that suddenly ambushed them. He tried to squirm away but couldn’t, his hands bound, his feet tied equally tight. He flopped about in the chair and finally came to a rest. Dani noticed a sheen of sweat and urine on his face, an exclamation of confusion and pain screwing his features into a hideous grimace.
Dani unfolded her arms and cracked her knuckles. The sound was loud, almost ear splitting in the silent, abandoned warehouse. Alan heard it, flinched, and looked up.
He groaned.
Then, his eyes widened. “You.”
Dani said nothing. She simply remained where she was, her steely eyes boring into her foe. She was aware of the shadow that shrouded her, provided her some respite from the light that was shining directly on Alan. She knew he couldn’t see her face, not yet anyway.
But, he recognised her leather jacket regardless. That saved her some time.
“Where’s Corey?”
Again, Dani remained silent. She took a step left, her feet clonking loudly on the dull, concrete ground. Alan followed her, his eyes pinned on the mysterious woman before him. Dani resumed her vigil once again.
Alan laughed. He looked down, stringy sputum oozing from his mouth, a side effect of the flunitrazepam currently crippling his motor functions. It smeared his shirt, staining the grey material and darkening it. He looked up again. “What do you want, bitch?”
Dani said nothing.
Alan grimaced, his tongue lapping at the excess fluid on his lips. He whipped his head sideways in a useless attempt to push the drool to his darting, probing tongue. In another life, Dani might have found this amusing, since he’d face planted into a puddle of urine only a few hours previously.
Her face remained stoic.
Alan laughed again, weaker this time. “So, that was your plan? Attack us and take us hostage? I have to give it to you, lady, you have a pair of fuckin’ balls on you.” He spat a phlegmy wad on the floor, expelling the sputum from his system. “You have a pair of fuckin’ balls, but fuckin’ shit for brains. Do you know who we are?”
Again, Dani said nothing, but she was expecting this line of questioning. The bravado, the testosterone-fuelled mantra of any male who belonged to a group of gangsters or hoodlums. She took a small step forward, closing the distance between them slowly.
A statement, an indication that she didn’t fear Alan or his company. Fearless.
Alan knew it. He sat up straight, licking his soggy lips, re-evaluating the situation. He knew the woman in the shadows was that hot, dyke-looking chick from the bar, the one with the tight arse, the spiky hair and the quirky, lopsided smile.
She doesn’t have a spiky hairdo now, that’s obvious by the shadow.
Maybe it’s someone else.
Maybe it was a wig? Women love that shit.
What was her name? Sarah? That’s it.
Why won’t she say something?
He rolled his tongue in his mouth and breathed deep, preparing himself.
Before he could say anything, Dani took another step forward.
Alan’s eyes widened. “I…I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“And why is that?” Dani replied, keeping her voice low, calm. She felt an anger coursing through her veins, one that threatened to propel her to sadistic violence. Her blood boiled, she listened to her fingers clenching and unclenching, her tendons creaking as she eased the stress from every inch of her toned body. Her face burned, the puffy scar marks itching something fierce. She wondered if she could do any damage by shouting, something she hadn’t done since the night of the attack.
This man…this man worked with her father, he’s an employee of the organisation who sanctioned his execution, takes a pay packet from the sadistic fuck who ordered the death of an innocent family. She realised she was feeling nauseous, the acrid taste singed the back of her throat; sick, anger and good will stirred an unbalanced pit of despair in her stomach. Dani closed her eyes and counted to ten.
One…
You should have prepared for this, should have planned for this eventuality.
Two…
If he sees you, feels you’re breaking, this is all for nothing.
Three…
Calm down. You’re so close. You can do this.
On four, Alan interrupted her.
“Look at you. What a fuckin’ bottler. Look at you standing there in the shadows, scared to approach me. Me, Alan Cahill.” Alan spat again, his face burning red with vehemence. “Do you know who I fuckin’ am? I’m a fuckin’ God amongst men and women; I work for the toughest cunt in London. I work for Ross Rhodes, that’s fuckin’ right. All Rhodes lead to death, that’s him. If he gets a whiff of this shit, he’ll be down here like a fuckin’ shot. He’ll raze your pathetic life, your inbred family, and your fuckin’ existence to the fuckin’ ground. Now, let me go!”
Dani opened her eyes, the silence returning on the back of Alan’s tirade.
Suddenly, Dani felt calm. All was fine.
“Look at you, you cunt! What you gonna…”
Dani stepped out of the shadows and walked over to Alan, her stride filled with purpose. Without stopping, she closed a sinewy fist and smashed Alan in the cheek. The impact cracked in the air with a soggy splat – blood and sputum whipped away and pattered the concrete. Alan groaned, his mouth dribbling pink into his lap. Dani unclenched her hand, feeling the throbbing there. She knew it would bruise; it was inevitable. She could feel the muscle contracting already.
Alan laughed. “That’s more like it…you got some fuckin’ spunk in you. Balls and spunk, who’d have thunk it. You have plenty…for a whore that is.”
Dani sidled to the left and launched her head forward, cracking Alan’s nose with her forehead. Her skull rang as she connected, bouncing her brain, the impact momentarily blasting stars and bright lights through her 20/20 vision. Dani backed off and turned away, rubbing her throbbing forehead.
“Arghhh…uh…you bitch, you…you boke my nose. Fud you…you boke my nose.”
Dani ran her fingertips across her face, testing the scars. Nothing wet secreted from them. She felt the inside of both cheeks with her tongue, tasting for blood. There was none. The head butt had been unintentional, a spur of the moment reaction to a man who was quickly fraying her patience. It caught her off guard; she hadn’t expected such a reaction. For the last year, she’d disciplined herself, taught herself to remain emotionless and cold during moments like this.
Except she’d never had any real moments to practice with.
A big flaw, she thought.
However, she felt alive, ignited.
A warm sensation boiled within her, one that tickled her face with a laugh, one that threatened to push her into giddiness. She turned back to Alan and licked her upper lip. She used the back of her hand to wipe her forehead, which shone with sweat. She tucked her hair behind her head. Time to go to work.
Alan snorted, blowing pink snot and blood onto his lap. “Shit…shit,” he exclaimed. He looked up, his eyes falling on the long hair, the pale scar tissue.
“Heyb, you…you aren’t der…her?” His eyes widened in absolute horror. “Oh, fuck…no, it can’t…it…you!”
Dani said nothing, her eyes narrowing.
“It can’t be…you’re dead, dead! Brad…he…he killed you. No one could survive dat.” Alan fell silent, running some terrifying thoughts through his head. Blood trickled from his shattered nose, coating his facial hair in crimson. His eyes widened again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to day what I bid, you know, about your family and tuff.” He cleared his throat. “That was stupid of me.”
Dani ambled over to Alan. “Rhodes. Where is he?”
Alan shook his head, snorting blood and clogging snot into his lap; a disbelieving smile hitched his cheeks high, his yellow teeth exposed, specked with red. He winced when his nose pounded his brain with white agony. “I can’t…can’t tell you that.”
“You can and you will.” Dani leaned in close, ensuring Alan could see the scar tissue, the ragged wounds that twisted her once pretty face into a permanent grin. “You can and you will, and there is no optional answer for this one.”
“But…he’d kill me.”
“You’re going to die either way,” Dani said flatly.
Alan laughed. “No, you…you wouldn’t?”
Dani nodded. “I would. Luckily, for the female population of London, tonight, you ran into me. Sure, you tried to spike my drink and rape me and gangbang me with your friend, Corey. I even said no and you insisted. That makes you a rapist, and in my eyes, all rapists should face their punishment.”
Alan sniffed. “Rapists don’t face the death sentence here…”
“You seem to be confusing me with the law. I’m not the law. If I were, I’d be failing the innocent right now, convicting the wrong person or letting a rapist walk free. No, I’m something more lethal, more…productive.” Dani straightened up and circled Alan. “Your boss ordered a hit on my father. In the process, he killed my little brother and my mother. He nearly killed me.”
“We heard the dory.” His shattered nose was still affecting his speech. “Brad…he bragged about dit, dold us everything.”
Dani felt her heart lurch and she nearly gagged. She stood behind Alan, tempted to break his neck and end it right there. She needed information though, information only he could provide.
“So, Bradley bragged, huh? I thought he would. The guy had a boner the entire time he was…mutilating me. He did this to my face; did he tell you that? He cut into my teenage face with a pair of kitchen scissors as if I was a piece of fucking chicken. He kicked me around like a football and nearly broke my neck.”
Alan nodded. “Yep.”
“So, tell me, Alan. Do you think he should be walking free,” Dani said, pointing behind her, “walking around and living his life? Inflicting pain on others? Do you think I deserved to have my life torn from me, my family butchered in front of me?”
Alan laughed, clearing his throat. “Bitch, you’re going to kill me anyway, why should I side with you? Your father, Dennis, was a fuckin’ liability. Bradley? He’s a sound guy, the best executioner I ever saw. I’m glad he’s on our side. You? You’re nothing to me. I hope you fucking suffered.”
“Best executioner? If he’s such a good executioner, how comes I’m still alive?”
Alan didn’t have a response for that.
Dani snorted. “I’m alive because he let me live. He was going to kill me, would have probably blown my head off, just like my little brother…did he tell you that bit? How he shot an eight-year-old boy in the head with a pump action?”
Alan shook his head slowly, concern registering on his face.
“He shot my brother and let me live. He let me live because, funny thing this, he wanted me to find him, hunt him down, challenge him. I never thought he’d take me up on it, but he did. I talked a lot of shit when my lif
e was in danger, but your executioner – the man you so loyally worship – he let me go. That’s how I survived, because of chauvinistic male bravado. He wanted a challenge from a seventeen-year-old girl.”
Alan sniffed, snot and blood dribbling down his broken, sweaty face. “Bullshib. He always dinishes the job.”
Dani leant down behind Alan and pulled the strings on a black bag. Gently, she placed a hand inside and lifted an object out. She stood up and walked before Alan, dropping the object in his lap with a soggy squelch.
Alan screamed at the bloody phallic object that rolled around in his lap. The penis, split unevenly down the middle, leaving the edges ragged and raw, was still connected to the testicles, their shriveled sacks encrusted in mucus and blood. Alan buckled; vomit spewing from between his quivering lips, splattering his legs, wracking his body so severely that he nearly toppled backwards. “You fucking bitch, you’re fucking crazy!”
Dani placed a foot on his seat, between his flailing legs, and brought him back level. She placed her bloody fingers on Alan’s face and wiped Corey’s blood down his cheeks, dotting his slick forehead with her fingertips. The muted hiss of a releasing bladder filled the air, the piss washing the blood from the front of Alan’s trousers; the combined mess dribbling to the concrete.
Dani stared into his eyes. “Bradley let me live, and because of that, a whole chain of events happened. I located you and your friends, all too easily, ran into you and seduced you in a bar. After we left, I drugged you and castrated Corey. I cut his genitals off slowly and gently with a bowie knife. Then, I put them in a velvet bag, brought you to a warehouse that, frankly, was too easy to lease, and tied you up.”
Dani glanced around and shook her head in disbelief.
“We’ve been here for seven hours and I haven’t heard a peep from anyone outside. No one knows we’re here and no one gives a flying fuck. It’s too easy; you should be more secure, more alert, especially if Rhodes’ organisation is as perfect as you make it out. Instead, you’re tied to a chair with piss in your little boy’s pants and your friends cock in your lap. Now, you are going to die, slowly, surely, and you will tell me everything I want to know beforehand. You know how I know this?”
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