I watched as Drew straightened his back and started sizing me up. He probably thought the suit was a hindrance, but it wasn’t. I’ve been fighting in these getups for years. Besides, it wasn’t as if Drew was going to actually get a hit in.
My men, knowing the routine, stepped back to give us ample room to fight, even though it was going to be a quick one. See, the one thing I never did? I never underestimated my victim. I approached them as if they were trained in all ten deadly disciplines of fighting styles. I fought them as if I were fighting for my life.
Because I was.
They fought for hope. I fought knowing that if I lost, Giovanni Benetti would put a bullet in my head, no matter any objections from his son. Now, granted, I’m not sure Luca would object all that much because, while he was my best friend, he was still a Benetti. He was still Morgan City’s Underboss, and he didn’t tolerate weakness or foolishness. Luca knew my methods, but he also didn’t worry about them. He has seen what I’m capable of.
Drew’s lip curled and I knew immediately what he was about. He was going to rush me, believing that his girth was going to work in his favor. I braced my feet, centered my body weight, and waited for the impact, though it would never come.
Drew Chancellor charged.
I waited for the precise second I needed.
And, all within three seconds, he was unconscious on the floor after I sidestepped his attack and landed a very specific blow to the side of his neck, hitting his carotid artery and the major nerve clusters that run down from his brain. The strike usually causes one of two things: extreme pain or unconsciousness.
Unconsciousness won this go-round.
“It’s fun to watch them try,” Alessio said cheerfully. I smirked and got to strapping Drew to the chair.
Once he was safely secured, my guys exited the building and left me alone with Drew. It wasn’t that I minded them seeing me work, I just preferred to spend quality time with my victims alone. I had a tendency to get in the zone when I worked, and the more people in the room, the more there was a possibility of a distraction.
I pulled out my tray of instruments and started setting shit up. I had no plans on killing him just yet, as he’s been a longtime customer and you can’t collect money from a dead man. Besides, he didn’t quite owe enough to warrant death.
I was just going to play with him a little.
As Drew sat limp in the chair and I organized my shit, my mind wandered my sister, as it often does these days.
Frankie.
It’s been a month since she was kidnapped and beaten, but the scar that runs down her left cheek is a harsh reminder of what she went though. And, as much fun as I had with that bastard, Randy Masterson, it still hadn’t been enough. Phoenix got to kill him, as was his right as Frankie’s husband, but I’m her brother. I should have…done more. As much as I loved and respected Phoenix, Frankie was my sister. I should have. Just. Done. More. And, now, because guilt was like a stack of bricks on my head, weighing me down, I tended to take that guilt out on my current victims.
Frankie and I lost our parents when she was almost eighteen and I had barely been twenty for about a month. And I had done my best to make sure she graduated from high school and continued to go to college. It had been hard, but working for the Benetti Family, I had made it happen. I had managed to keep a roof over her head and send her to school. Granted, I hadn’t done it all alone, she had been dating Phoenix and was Luca’s best friend, but I had been the final say in her life.
That is, until we fucked up.
And after getting her back, we fucked up again by not watching her closely enough.
We were always fucking up when it came to that girl, and the disappointment and guilt was eating me alive. Even though I knew Luca and Phoenix would take a bullet for me, Frankie was my only blood family. At thirty-years-old, she was two years younger than I was and I’ve always looked out for her, but I was cocking that up something awful. Sure, Phoenix and Luca were fucking