Page 48 of Vicious Intentions

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Page 48 of Vicious Intentions

“Well, unless you plan on saddling yourself with paying for a wife and three kids for the rest of your life, then I suggest you take a beat and calm the fuck down.”

Exhaling, I glared at him but finally nodded. He was right, as he usually was. “Fine. I’ll take a minute.”

“Good. Now, what the fuck happened to make you crazy?”

Crazy wasn’t the word for it. It was as if I’d been dragged into the past, the nightmare of what had occurred all those years ago coming dangerously close to the surface. If Theodore’s father was dead set on bringing us down, then we’d have no recourse but to end the chapter. What bothered me was that there would be additional questions, especially since he’d likely talked to the detective who’d bothered me.

Fuck. This situation was getting out of hand already. I knew better than to allow any loose ends to remain, but both Hunter and Cristiano had convinced me to back away. Why was it all coming crashing down now?

“Be careful when your past comes back to haunt you,” I told him.

“The shit from the Elite?”

I’d kept many dark secrets in my life. It was a necessity in my line of work. The fact that I’d trusted him enough to mention the power we held during those four years over a bottle of bourbon hadn’t been in my best interest. I’d even considered ending his life because of what he’d learned, but the man was far too valuable. He’d saved my butt on more than one occasion.

“Yeah.”

“Well, if you need me to handle anything, I’ll be happy to take care of it.”

“You’re a twisted fuck, just like I am. It may come down to that. I’ll let you know.” I took another deep breath, then brushed my hands down my jacket, unbuttoning it at the same time. “Let’s get this over with.”

“You sure you don’t want me to deal with Barrett?”

I managed to grin, which was usually the sign I wouldn’t become a total psychopath. “I think the lesson needs to come from me, or he’ll consider doing it again.”

He nodded. “Good point.”

As he opened the door, my thoughts briefly drifted to Rose, a smile crossing my face. As an image of her lovely face slipped into the forefront of my mind, I was pleasantly surprised how calm I’d suddenly become. Perhaps she was a good luck charm of sorts. I made a mental note to insist she have dinner with me.

One taste could be all I needed. Or maybe not.

Several lascivious thoughts lingered as I walked into the soundproof room. I’d known the moment I was taking over the casino that I’d need to spend an exorbitant amount of time handling the renovation and subsequent operation of the expansive resort. That meant I needed a secure area to handle different, more brutal aspects of my business. Including doling out punishment as necessary.

With a separate entrance, a secure gated parking lot with eight-foot concrete walls, the location allowed for maximum privacy when handling disposals as necessary.

The existence of the ‘special’ facility was widely known in the ranks of my employees as well as listed as an ugly rumor with my enemies. Which of course I’d started. I’d learned early on that an unsaid threat was just as powerful as one issued in person. Plus, it fed the sadistic man inside of me.

I enjoyed seeing them sweat.

Which was exactly what Barrett was doing. People who knew him called him the Bruiser because of his use of his fists. In this case, his misuse.

By the glint of fear in his eyes, the room had worked his magic.

He’d been snatched up just getting off from work by Brock and another Capo, Marty, with two other soldiers remaining in the back of the room in case things got messy. Barrett had been a damn good dealer in the casino since the opening, but the stories of his abuse to his once beautiful wife had finally crossed a line.

The boys had roughed him up pretty good, leaving me enough real estate if I wanted to create an entirely new face for him. I would ordinarily enjoy carving his wife’s name onto one cheek, the word ‘abuser’ on the other, but given my sudden good mood because of Rose, I might use another tactic. It depended on his actions and level of remorse.

I grabbed a chair, twisting it the opposite way and sitting down in front of him, crossing my arms across the stiff back.

Barrett seemed surprised at my actions, flinching.

I glanced around the room at the various instruments and tools I’d acquired with nothing but punishment in mind. Inside these walls, I could carve a man into filet if needed.

“I don’t need to tell you how badly you fucked up, Barrett.”

“I did nothing.”

His insistence irritated me. “So, you enjoy beating your wife on a regular basis?” As I lifted my head, glaring into his eyes, I could tell he wasn’t clueless as to what I was talking about. That gave him one bad boy point. I rated the men who sat in this chair. If they stayed under three, they were given a decent warning. Four or five, things started to get messy. Anything a seven or above and they’d shit themselves before begging for death.




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