Page 25 of Stag

“You said he stole from you or something? Is that just like he didn’t pay his loan back or something? Do you kill those? How do you get your money?”

The bearded git closest to me scratched his jaw.

“Did I say it was twenty questions time? This fucker robbed one of our dancers, okay? Broke her fucking cheekbone, and left her in a pool of blood. He dies today, yeah? You wanna get on with it, or do you want his shoe size first?”

He hurt a woman? Suddenly I was more than ready to beat the fucker, but did I want to pound on him with fists, or hit him with something more deadly?

“Got any weapons here?”

“No, we don’t equip our kill house properly, we’re dicks like that. Marco?”

Oh fuck. I felt the blood drain from my face as that fucker appeared from behind me. Did I move into a defensive stance almost immediately? Did he just laugh? Do I need to answer?

“Over here, there’s all kinds of shit.” I followed him, eyeing the guy I was about to kill as I passed him. He was frowning at me, but silent because of the tape across his mouth. Ha. Stitch would have literally sewn it shut. Bet these fuckers would love that.

The weapons were lined up at the back of the room, two long tables with all kinds of shit there. Bats, golf clubs, knives, a few swords, even. Then there was the torture stuff, pliers, hammers, a pretty hefty wrench or two, then a car battery, no prizes for guessing what that was for.

“Use whatever, just do it fast. The Bennetts don’t like being kept waiting,” Marco said in a low voice, narrowing his eyes at me as I looked at him at last. What the fuck? I’m the one who should be looking uneasy, I mean, unless my attempt to beat him the other day actually freaked him out.

“I’m on it,” I said finally, watching him walk away to go and mutter something to those fucking twins, who both started laughing with him.

It was time to put aside everything but the task at hand. This guy attacked a woman, and that meant he was due for a beating at the very least. Did they actually say kill him? Did I imagine that? I should check before I do that, right? I grabbed a baseball bat, that looked like it had soaked up way too much blood already, and a hammer. Those are always fun.

I walked back over to the hanging guy, glancing at the three fuckers who were going to watch me do something all three of them could have just done themselves.

“Before I do this, you definitely said dead, right? You want him dead.”

One of the Bennetts frowned at me. “You wearing a fucking wire, bruv? You fuck us and you’ll be up there next.”

Well, shit, that’s not what I meant.

“Of course I’m not. I’m just making sure I don’t go further than you want me to. I’ll get carried away, see.”

“Check him, Marco.” Oh fuck. The big bastard came back toward me and I groaned, pulling my leathers open to lift my t-shirt. That’s where they put them in the movies, right?

“Nothing to see. I’m good.”

“Remove the leathers. You can do this in your jeans.”

I hesitated in the middle of removing the heavy leather layers. Wait, he meant jeans and t-shirt, right?

Nope. As soon as I set the leathers aside, they raised their eyebrows.

“Is this some kind of kinky thing?”

“I know it’s scary for virgins to strip off for the first time, but get on with it. We’ve got other shit to do today.” Why the fuck did they keep saying that? Assholes. Still, I wasn’t looking to prolong a second of this, so I tossed the t-shirt on top of my leathers and slowly spun on the spot.

“Good enough? You wanna read my tats while you’re eye-fucking me?”

The guy stepped in my direction, and his brother caught his arm, murmuring something that had them both laughing. Fuck me. How did I end up in this situation?

“Can I get on with this now?”

“Go on, v-boy. Make him bleed, yeah?”

V-boy? Motherfucker. Still, I wasn’t getting out of here until this was done.

It took maybe six minutes to kill the fucker, using the hammer and the baseball bat to inflict some pain first. Pain that I hope made him regret attacking a woman. Marco tossed me a towel to clean myself up, along with a pack of wet wipes, because clearly this is how they do it in the mob club.