Bones’ leg bouncing picks up speed, “I don’t work for anybody but my fucking self.”
The man gives a coy lift to the side of his mouth, “Let me rephrase: We know you have loyalties to Vitalle, therefore I believe you know how to get a hold of him.”
“You got it wrong, man,” Bones stumbles over his words, rubbing his brow as an eye twitch begins. “I don’t have loyalties.”
The man bangs his fist on the desk, “Don’t lie to me!”
“Why the fuck do you want to know?” Bones shouts back.
“We have a long overdue meeting he’s been avoiding, and I suggest you remember your manners. Frankie over here,” Fyodor nods his head behind him to the dark skinned man with about three hundred pounds on him, “doesn’t tolerate disrespect.”
“Good for him,” Bones taunts, with another rub to his twitchy brow.
The man looks to me and my body tenses. I hold back the panicky feeling that’s hammering my chest. “Who’s this?”
Bones pauses his hand, “My date.”
Fyodor looks to a paper to the left of him, “Funny, there is no name associated to her. Only a Plus One. Is she working for him?”
Bones sighs in agitation. “For who?”
“Vitalle!” Fyodor shouts with furrowed brows.
Bones shrugs, his leg now at the speed of a jackrabbit, “How the fuck should I know? We like to fuck and look pretty for the other at these god-awful events.”
“I’m good at telling when a man’s lying. It’s a gift.” Fyodor leers at him, hunching more of himself over the wood, “I’ll ask you one more time. Do you know where Vitalle is?”
“I don’t even know who the fuck that is?”
“That’s the game you want to play?”
He gets no answer. Even I can tell Bones is about the worst liar ever. I can’t believe this was Vic’s only option, but then again this wasn’t exactly part of the plan.
Fyodor snaps his fingers and Frankie comes around the desk, looming menacingly in front of Bones, “Frankie loves pain. He lives for it. Show ‘em Frankie.”
Frankie snatches the hand that is drumming his thigh. Bones tries to snatch it back but Frankie’s too strong for him. Frankie takes the ring finger, gives Bones a devious turn of his lips, and snaps it. The sound rings in my ears along with Bones’ cry of pain and my sharp gasp.
Fyodor, seeming quite pleased with himself, speaks, “Shall I have him continue, or are you ready to talk?”
Bones’ hand is still secured in Frankie’s, and in a shaky voice answers, “Can’t tell you an answer I don’t fucking know.”
Fyodor gives a quick nod and Frankie snaps back Bones’ middle finger. Bones and I both cry out. I hadn’t meant to, but it took me by surprise and I could feel Bones’ cry of pain down through my spine to my sacrum.
Tears well in my eyes. I’m at a loss of what to do. I don’t want Bones to be tortured, but I also don’t want to give away Vic’s whereabouts. I can’t focus enough to make a plan. This is not a situation one thinks they’ll land themselves in. I’ve never been more terrified or scared and at odds with what the right thing to do is.
“Fuck man,” Bones sobs, tears rolling down his cheeks, “I don’t know.”
Fyodor motions to the man behind Bones, who pulls out pliers, “You ever have a tooth yanked out? It’s not a pleasant experience.”
Bones pleads and begs as the man with the pliers holds him back while Frankie goes in.
I can’t watch. I look away, but the sound that escapes Bones will haunt me for the rest of my life. It’s a bloodcurdling howl that makes me curl into myself. When he stops I glance over. Frankie is gleeful while he holds the bloody tooth pinched between two fingers, blood dribbling down them. Bones is holding his hands over his mouth, both covered in blood while he rocks his body.
“Ready for more?” Fyodor snaps his fingers once more. If Frankie looked gleeful from the tooth pulling, he looks downright ecstatic now. He goes to a drawer and pulls out a hammer. My stomach lurches. What do I do, what do I do?
The two men who brought us in take hold of Bones’ right leg, straightening it. Frankie positions himself above the kneecap. Just as I’m about to shout out, not having a clue what I’ll say or do but knowing I can’t watch it happen, Bones speaks up, “Okay! Okay! I’ll fucking tell you. Please just fucking stop. Please…”
Fyodor gives some kind of signal and the men retreat back to their places behind us. Frankie looks genuinely bummed as he positions himself behind his boss, the hammer still in his hand, ready to strike.
Bones wipes his bloody mouth with the back of his good hand, which only serves the purpose of smearing it across his face more. “He’s here.”
Fyodor perks up, “At the party?”
“No. In a limo, hiding out.”
I’m angry that Bones didn’t lie, though I’m not sure how that would have turned out if he had. There’s no winning in this situation.
Fyodor quickly picks up the phone on his desk, swiveling his chair around for privacy. I strain to hear what is being spoken but can only make out mumbled words.
Bones reaches for my clutch to retrieve a white cloth he had me place in there back in the limo. I try capturing his attention but he’s ignoring me. Instead of cleaning the blood, Bones wraps it tightly around his middle three fingers like he’s done it countless times. He doesn’t even so much as flinch in pain when he secures it by having to yank and disturb the two that are broken.
Fyodor swivels back around, replacing his phone to its exact location. He once again looks to me, “What does she have to do with this?”
“Fuck, man,” Bones swears, the words not coming out right from all the blood and swelling of his mouth. “I told you, she’s my fucking date.” That’s the only thing so far he’s successfully pulled off as believable.
Fyodor snaps his fingers and Frankie comes around towards me. I automatically jump up and scramble backwards, smacking into the guard behind me who holds both my arms, securing me in place. Frankie slaps the hammer into his palm, inching his way closer as Fyodor speaks, “Maybe we need to test this out, find out what she knows.”
Bones remains completely calm as he uses his tux to absorb blood from his mouth, “She knows shit, man, but if you have to then fuckin’ go for it.” My mouth drops open and I wiggle around with all my might to try and break free. “Like I said, she’s just a good fuck.”
Fyodor scrutinizes Bones for several seconds. He eventually nods and the man who has a hold of me shoves me back into my seat, Frankie resuming his place behind his boss.
For about a fraction of a second I’m hopeful they’ll just let me go.
That moment is short lived as Vic is shoved inside; however, a part of me worries less having him in the same room. I trust him to get us out of here.
Vic looks to Bones and his bloody state, his busted fingers still cupped in his other hand, blood still dribbling down his mouth that has swelled up to the size of a baseball.
Bones does some kind of gesture I saw him do earlier in the limo. I didn’t get to hear what it meant but I wish I had. Maybe it would offer me some kind of comfort. Or perhaps the complete opposite. Maybe I purposely didn’t get to hear because of that. My heart continues to pound.
Vic doesn’t look to me, which I understand; I’m supposed to just be some socialite with a pretty face and money to burn.
One of the men who brought him in place the gun and knife in front of the boss, “These are the only things he had on him, plus a vest.”
“Remove it,” Fyodor demands, turning his attention on Vic. “You think you’re clever?”
Vic only stares at him as the two men who brought him in remove his shirt and the bulletproof vest underneath, leaving him topless.
“You think because you got away with killing your father that meant anybody was fair game? That we’d all be so easy?”
Vic’s expressionless face continues to blankly stare Fyodor down, his eyes revealing that he has a dark
, sinister side to him.
Fyodor taps the side of his head, “I’m smarter than he was, more resourceful. I keep tabs on everybody I view as a threat to me. Who they work with, who they have dinner with…” He nods over to Bones, “Who they save from slavery. Every move you have made since murdering your father. I had assumed you were just like him; that you had plans to gain territories, and that I would soon be a target. Nothing. No disturbance. Until tonight,” Fyodor leans back in his chair, stroking his white mustache. “Now I have to wonder, have you shown up out of the blue to kill me too? Has lying low been your masterful plan all along?”
“You’re paranoid,” Vic says in a deep, rich accent. “I have no interest in taking over my father’s business, as time has proved thus far.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To find a man,” he states simply and matter-of-factly.
“Which man?” Fyodor challenges.
“I cannot tell you that, due to my contract.”
Fyodor continues stroking his beard, moving down to his chin and jaw, scrutinizing Vic, “Fair enough. You were always a man of his word, but you know I can’t just let you walk out of here. I have a point to make. Killing the Vitalle heir would prove it quite nicely.”
“How so? I have no control over my father’s empire, nor do I have any power of my own. The only thing we share is a name,” Vic points out, coming across as bored by the whole encounter.
“A powerful name,” Fyodor adds.
“Once, perhaps,” Vic agrees with a nod. “It holds no weight anymore.”
“True, true, but you have your father’s blood running through you. Vitalle blood can’t be trusted. You are all too calculating, too cunning. You’re all crazy like a fox.”
Vic doesn’t deny it, “This is true.”
“So you see my predicament.”
“I do.”
Fyodor once again leans forward and clasps his hands together on his desk, “I’ll make you an offer.”
“I’m listening.”
“Work for me. Show your allegiance. A Vitalle with a Kazimir will cause quite the commotion. We would be unstoppable,” he pauses with a gleeful twinkle to his eyes and a smirk placed on his lips. “Think of the power.”
“I have no use for power.”
“You are a Vitalle. You live for power.”
“Perhaps, but not the kind you speak of.”
“Join me. You can have whatever power you crave.”
“I already have it.”
“Have more.”
“That’s were your downfall lies, Kazimir,” Vic scolds. “The never ending greed for more. It will be what ruins you.”
Fyodor taps his temple, “I’m too smart for that. I’m giving you two options: join me, or die.”
Now I’m the one with the jittery leg I can’t control. I’m pretty sure I know Vic’s answer, and I have a sense this is it, that this may be the end of our lives. I can’t believe how stupid I was to think I could handle this, that I could fix the mess my father’s in.
“And if I pledge myself to you, you think you can trust me?” Fyodor combs his beard with his fingers and Vic continues, “You think you can trust a man who takes his own father’s life?”
“It almost sounds like you’re asking for death.”
Fyodor gets no response, just a cold stare. Vic has made his decision.
This can’t really be happening. I’m just a waitress from a small tourist town, not someone who has people negotiating death around them.
Vic had warned me being with him wasn’t safe. I guess I just never contemplated enough how unsafe he truly meant it could be. In all fairness though, how was I supposed to know? This is the kind of stuff that you don’t think about because you are so far removed from this kind of life. Things like this don’t happen to everyday people.
Fyodor pulls open a desk drawer, dragging out a golden hand gun (what’s with everybody and gold?). He hands it off to Frankie, explaining, “Why do myself what I can have somebody else do for me?”
“Let me do it,” Bones pipes up. I almost forgot he was there, having been so absorbed in the conversation before me.
Fyodor scoffs at him, “Do I look like a stupid man to you? Why would I give you a gun when you’re working for him?”
“Working for him and being loyal are two different fucking things,” Bones sneers, venom spurting out with his words. “This man ‘saved’ me, and ever fucking since then has believed I fucking owe him. I have paid it back tenfold, yet here I fucking am, being tortured for him. It’s no better than where I was before he fucking found me. Now I’m his slave instead of somebody else’s. If I kill him, I’m free, and you don’t have his fucking blood on your hands. I’m sure you’re aware he still has powerful allies.”
Fyodor sits there, contemplating, “This would be an interesting turn of events.” He moves his hands out in front of him like he’s announcing the name of a newspaper article, “Fyodor Kazimir gets Visuyan Vittale’s closest ally to murder him on the spot. A new level of fear I could bring onto my enemies.” He begins to hand over the gun to Bones, pausing right before it’s within reach, “One wrong move and my men take you out.”
Bones hesitantly takes it, like he’s expecting to be turned on and become the one with a bullet piercing him.
Vic uncharacteristically pleads for his life, begging Bones as he inspects the weapon, “Don’t do this! You can have your freedom, I promise!”
Bones ignores him and aims right for the chest.
“No!” I cry, jumping up, but the guard behind me holds me down by the shoulders.
“Don’t worry, babe,” Bones says to me as he keeps his eyes on the target. “He’s far enough away no blood will get on that pretty fuckin’ dress of yours.”
I open my mouth but Vic cuts me a look so sharp I snap it shut.
Maybe they have a plan. Maybe Bones won’t really shoot Vic.
Turns out, I’m wrong.
Chapter 25
Bones doesn’t even blink. He shoots Vic right in the chest. The guard who has him lets his body drop to the ground. I scream out, jumping to my feet only to be held back.
Bones hands over the gun, a sly grin on face, “You don’t know how fucking long I’ve been wanting to do that. Shall we go celebrate?”
Fyodor gets up and slaps him on the shoulder, “I have an aged scotch I was saving, and this seems like the perfect night for it. We can discuss your new employment.”
The group of men begin to travel out. Fyodor jabs Vic in the side with the toe of his shoe before he reaches the door. Vic’s limp body only slightly moves from it, no noise coming from his body.
The guard that still has a tight hold on me speaks up as they all file out, “What about the girl?”
Fyodor doesn’t even glance my way, “Escort her to her vehicle. She can help spread the word of the last Vitalle’s demise, but teach her a ‘lesson’ first.”
The door clicks shut behind them and my guard shoves me towards it. I take the opportunity to leap over to Vic, who hasn’t moved, his blood staining the carpet. I’m sobbing at this point as I put pressure over his wound, my hands getting soaked with his blood. “Stay with me. Please Vic, stay with me.” I get closer to his ear and whisper into it, “I love you.”
No response.
The tears fall harder. It’s not fair that he was brought into my life to be taken out of it just as quickly.
The guard tries pulling me away but I elbow him hard in the ribs. He curses and pulls me back by my hair, shooting pain through my scalp. Just as he begins dragging me by my roots, the door slams open with a loud thump. It captures the guard’s attention, a confused expression on his face.
Vikki is standing at the door looking rather bored as she inspects the two of us. Two guards are at her feet and her date peeks in from behind her.
The guard throws me to the side by my hair, retrieving his gun. Before he has a chance to aim Vikki kicks it from his hand, the slit in her dress making it
easy for her leg to move. She yanks the broach from her hair, which falls in a cascade of soft waves, and she throws it at the guard. It lands half in his neck, blood spurting out and spraying me and the area around him. He claws to get it out, making gurgling, choking noises and dropping to his knees. While this is happening Vikki’s date has rushed over to Vic and is assessing his wound, “Go! I’ll take care of this. Get her out of here.”
Vikki nods, pausing for a second as she takes in the sight of her brother. She effortlessly yanks me up from the floor even though we appear to be the same weight, “We have to go.”
Tears are still spilling down and I have difficulty getting words out, “How are we going to get Vic out?”
“He’s gone, Freya,” she states like it’s a random person and not her twin brother.
I vigorously shake my head, not accepting it to be true, “No.”
Frustrated that I’m frozen in place, Vikki tugs on my hand.
I refuse to believe he won’t survive, and therefore don’t budge, “We can’t leave him.”
Vikki keeps tugging, “We have to go.”
“I can’t leave him,” I plead. Surely she understands that.
“You must.”
“How can you?”
“Because he would have wanted me to.”
She’s right. I reluctantly follow, but not before looking back one last time at his body. Vikki’s date is blocking my view. I move to get closer but Vikki yanks hard on my arm and I unwillingly comply.
She has us running at full speed. I have to stop us as I nearly trip over my heels. Vikki taps her foot in impatience, having no difficulty running in hers. She makes it seem effortless. My twisted ankle is proof that it’s really fucking hard to do. Once they are safely in my hand we take off again.
The rest is all a blur through my tears and the speed in which we are running. Somehow Vikki has lead us to a black sports car, which she shoves me inside. I’ve barely registered we even left the building.
I can’t even manage to buckle myself in as she slides into her own seat and zooms off.
Like a Fox Page 18