Dangerous Stranger - Piper Stone Page 0,81

think I can handle that.”

The rebellious girl had returned, forcing my cock to ache. As I slipped out the door, I waited until I heard the lock engage before walking away.

My father had told me on at least two occasions that the reason he was such a strong leader was because he knew he could come home to my mother. Today was the only time I realized what he’d told me was undoubtedly the truth.

We all had weaknesses.

But not all of us were lucky enough to find salvation.

* * *

Gothic buildings. My love of the architecture was well known, the location of where the informant had been taken not lost on me. However, I wondered who’d actually selected the crumbling church, which had been closed for several years. The light of morning had drifted across the horizon, allowing a warm glow against the ancient stone.

The beauty of the aging building was breathtaking in detail and design, much like the location where the nightmare had truly begun less than two weeks before. It was fitting this would be the beginning of the end. I walked inside, tipping my head as the creaking sound indicated movement within the massive roof timbers. While considered a historic site, preserved by a score of caretakers, there was fear the entire structure would collapse from recent torrential rains.

It would also be fitting to have the body of a true sinner buried in the rubble. A smile crossed my face as I walked into the former congregation hall. Everything of value had been stripped by looters before the massive wooden doors had been chained. That certainly hadn’t kept my enforcers from finding a way inside.

The incredible room still held a few signs of its former glory, the dark stained columns carved with glorious detail. Even the pulpit remained, although no longer adorned with the various religious symbols and decorations. However, I remembered the few times I’d been here as a boy, the wondrous feeling of magic I’d had by simply walking into the room.

Walking in this time was almost as cathartic, still giving me a sense of enchantment. The informant had been tied to a chair, a bag placed over his head. He’d been detained overnight, Montego handling the situation as he’d been trained.

As I walked closer, my boots echoing on the broken wooden slats, various musty odors assaulted my nostrils. Aging wood, decay, and mold mixed with a fresher stench. Urine. I shook my head, gritting my teeth. While punishing a traitor was necessary to keep order, I loathed the weakness in men who usually begged for their lives. There was no salvation for their blackened souls.

Not within the Galicia mafia.

“Boss,” Montego said quietly out of respect.

I glanced around at the group of men, the majority low-level soldiers who took orders from Montego. The life of a traitorous bastard was never easy. There were always people on the streets ready to sell their soul for a few bucks or the possibility of advancement within the organization. All the fucker had to do was brag to the wrong person. This particular situation had been no different. One drink too many.

“Remove the cloak,” I instructed, keeping my tone even. I walked up the few stairs, now standing only a few feet from him.

“Sorry, boss. He resisted. Had to teach him a lesson,” Montego said as he moved forward, untying the thick rope surrounding the fucker’s neck.

I stood where I was, uncertain of exactly what I wanted to say to him. He’d been with the organization since I could remember, working closely by my side since coming up through the ranks.

When Montego jerked off the canvas covering, the informant gasped, coughing several times. As Montego backed away, I studied the bruised face of the man and exhaled. “Jorge.”

Jorge struggled to lift his head, taking gasping breaths as blood trickled from his mouth. He sniffed, coughing several additional times before his body began to shake.

I’d never seen true fear in the man before. I did on this glorious morning.

I’d been prepared to face him for over two hours yet seeing the betraying asshole created a level of rage I hadn’t anticipated.

“Rafael,” Jorge managed, wheezing from saying the single word.

He’d been worked over as I would have anticipated, his face swollen, one eye barely open. I walked closer, controlling my anger.

For now.

“He said shit to us, boss,” Montego stated, cursing under his breath. “The fucker won’t admit what I know to be true.”

“That’s he’s a lying sack of shit?” I asked