The elevator door opened and my nostrils suddenly filled with the strong smell of bleach and cleaning agent. I could only guess that some stains were harder to clean than others, and the recent events forced the cleaning crew to use more drastic methods to keep this place spotless.
I walked down the king corridor, passing the first three doors, before stopping at the last. I opened the door and entered, my eyes instantly falling on the blond-haired man tied to a chair and gagged with a leather strap. He must have been in his late twenties, well-built, and good-looking like most of our bartenders. He was left with nothing but his boxer shorts on his ass. His brown eyes widened as he looked at me and a soft moan escaped from his gag.
Dumb fucker.
Did he think I would show him mercy after all he had done?
Julio stood in a corner of the room, leaning lazily against the wall, his hands folded over his chest. "What took you so long?" he asked. "The guy will have an heart attack before we even get the chance to begin."
My lips twisted into a grim smirk. "You really think he's that weak?" I asked and glanced at our captive. He muttered something indiscernible out of the gag in his mouth.
Julio pushed from the wall and stepped towards the man. "He must have shit his pants," he said, crinkling up his nose. "That explains the smell."
"Fucking perfect," I grunted, glaring at the traitor now rattling in horror. "How did you discover it wasn't just a stolen pass?" I asked, glancing at Julio.
"Restroom camera," Julio replied with a smug smirk. "The dickhead with the tattoo was giving this little shithead here some money and he gave him his pass in return."
"What about the guy's face?" I asked, my interest piqued.
"Didn't get it," Julio remarked solemnly. "He wore a damn hood and the only thing visible was that damn beard of his."
I motioned at the traitor before glancing at Julio. "Take the gag off. Time for him to talk."
A wicked gleam shone in Julio's eyes. He stepped behind the man and unbuckled the strap. The blonde whimpered in relief. To his own benefit, at least he didn't try to scream or cry.
"Let's try with something simple, Lorenzo," I said, looking into his eyes. "How long have you been working for me?"
"F-four years," he rasped.
"Four years," I repeated and glanced at Julio who was walking to the table in a corner of the room. He picked up a paper folder and opened it.
"He even worked in one of Glocciano's casinos before he came to work with us," he said with a smirk and tossed the folder back to the table. "He had more than enough time to learn the rules."
Lorenzo sucked in a deep breath. "I-I made a mistake! Please!"
I dropped my head and exhaled slowly, calming the storm brewing within me. Then my head snapped up suddenly and I faced him, my eyes sparking fire. "Tell me, wasn't your salary good enough?"
Greedy little fucker. I knew he was receiving more than five thousand bucks in tips alone. I gave him a dark smile and he shuddered causing the chair to quake. "P-please," he croaked.
"Please what?" I asked, my lips tilted, my brows raised.
"Don't kill me," he said foolishly.
I sighed. "That depends on whether I find you useful or not." A lie. He was going to die anyway. But giving a little hope was always an efficient way to loosen one's tongue, and I hoped the reassuring smile I gave him so effortlessly would manage to convince him.
Lorenzo's gaze flickered between Julio and me. "I'll tell you everything," he wailed.
I huffed out a laugh then I dragged a chair, turning it back-to-front and sitting astride on it. "Start by telling us about the guy with the snake tattoo."
Lorenzo swallowed. "I... I-I don't know who he is."
I was going to wait a little longer but Julio had completely run out of his patience. He sent a punch to Lorenzo's jaw, causing the chair to nearly topple. Lorenzo's groan echoed through the room. Then Julio grabbed his hair, forcing his head up.
"Wrong answer," he grunted. "Try again."
"I'm telling you the truth, I swear," Lorenzo groaned, a trickle of blood mingled with saliva flowing down the corner of his lips. "He first came to see me three months ago. He spoke with a hard accent...never said his name."
"Three months ago," Julio muttered to himself and licked his lips. "Now, are you fucking kidding me?" he bellowed, making Lorenzo to flinch.
Then he began to pace the room, letting out a stream of curses as he walked pensively. My eyes remained on the son of a bitch tied up to the chair.
"What did you do for him, Lorenzo?" I inquired softly.
It was always good to mention their names when you questioned them. It made them feel secure, let their guard down.
"Nothing much," he replied with a shaky voice.
"What did you do?" I hissed.
He swallowed a lump in his throat. "I-I..."
"You what?" I hissed again, beginning to get impatient.
"First...he asked me questions about the club. And I showed him all the club's plans. All the corridors and exits..."
Rage and fury boiled in my stomach, threatening to erupt. But I didn't let it. Not yet. "How much did he pay you?"
He lowered his head and swallowed again. "Five grand for each piece of information," he murmured.
Julio and I exchanged looks. How much had this tattooed motherfucker learned about our club? What else did he know? Now it was even more crucial that we found him.
"What else did you tell him?" Julio demanded, stepping closer to his chair.
"He once asked about the weekend takings. But that was all..." he paused and turned a pleading gaze to me. "I swear. Then he stopped coming...for a while."
Julio leaned over him, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "Then he showed up a few days ago, asked for your pass."
He nodded nervously. "He offered me twenty grands. Who would have rejected that?"
"Someone with a brain!" Julio fired.
The fury inside of me now scratched its way to the surface. Had this motherfucker even stopped to consider the consequences?
"Did you ask him what he wanted your pass for?"
He nodded. "He told me he had a VIP guest who was so keen about privacy."
"VIP guest my damn ass," Julio hissed. "That didn't sound ridiculous to you?"
He swallowed another lump. "It sounded harmless..."
Julio bit his lip and threw a punch to Lorenzo's jaw. This time the chair fell to the side and a rough thud echoed followed by his hoarse scream. "Please!"
I clicked my tongue and got out of my seat. "That's pathetic, Lorenzo. You're a total waste of air."
I pulled out my gun and crouched beside him.
"Don't...please. I'm begging you," he pleaded earnestly, a fresh red trickle flowing from his nose. "Spare me."
I sighed and pressed the gun to his head. "I don't see any reason why I should," I said, slowly curling my fingers around the trigger. "Do you know what he did with the pass you gave him?"
"No," he breathed out, his body trembling.
My lips twisted into a bitter smile. "He let a kid into the club, fed him some experimental shit, and let the boy die in some dark alley. And he made damn sure the boy got our dam club stamp on his wrist!"
I took a breath, calming myself down, and pressed the gun to his head. "You know how this works, Lorenzo. You signed the clause. You knew the rules. You broke them all. Now you'll pay." I pulled the safety off, making sure he heard the click.
"I'll tell you more!" he yelled, his face covered with a blend of tears and blood.
I glanced at Julio and he nodded. I rose to stand while Julio went over and pulled his chair up. The motherfucker breathed a sigh of relief.
"You have thirty seconds to give us something useful," Julio snarled and peered at his wristwatch.
Lorenzo's gaze fixed on me. "He was tall. He had black beard and brown eyes and...he was bald."
I tried to recall the guy I had seen at Drake's wedding, but with all the sentinels looking alike, all I could remember was that tattoo on his hand. Unfortunately, Lorenzo's description wouldn't help much either.
"You're not even trying," Julio said and stared at his wristwatch. "You've got ten seonds, hermano."
"H-he...he had more than one tattoo!" Lorenzo rasped, sniffling. "One time he had his shirt unbuttoned and I saw a tattoo on his chest."
"What tattoo?" Julio demanded.
"It was a star...a star and some odd letters," he said, his chest heaving and falling at a rapid rate, his gaze flying from Julio to me and back to Julio. "I think it was Cyrillic."
"Cyrillic?" Julio questioned.
"I...I think so," he replied.
"You either think so, or you're positive!"
Lorenzo swallowed hard and then nodded. "I'm positive."
"It's the Bratva," Julio told me even though I already knew.
"The League of thieves," I said slowly and fixed Lorenzo with a deadly glare. "You were selling information about the club and us to the Russian bastards."
"I'm sorry...I didn't know," he whimpered and looked up at me with painful tears shimmering in his eyes. "I swear, I didn't know...I swear..."
I shook my head and a cold smile pulled briefly on the corners of my lips. I slowly raised my gun and his eyes widened.
"I wanted to make you bleed out, make you die slow and painful. But you did give us something," I said and shrugged before aiming at his head.
"No. This was not the agreement!" he yelled.
"Be grateful. You'll die quickly."
"No!" he shrieked, frantically straining against the ropes that held him tightly to the chair, desperate to loosen them. "Please, I'm begging you! Don't!"
I pulled the trigger.