covering his face.
“You think this shit is funny?” I question him, grabbing a knife and sliding it lightly down his cheek.
The blade is sharp enough it begins to slice open his skin. Torres shrieks like the bitch he is as I move to the opposite side of his face. He begins to plead and cry for me to stop cutting him. I wonder if any of the women he’s been with have begged and pleaded with him to stop doing shit to them. To stop beating on them or making them feel less than they truly are. If not anything worse.
“How did you know the package would be outside?” I ask Torres again, waving the knife in his face.
“It was at your house. I got the call to pick it up and take it to wherever Gwen is,” he says, tears falling from his eyes.
“So, you went to our home, got this box, and brought it here to show her. Knowin’ she just got outta the hospital and doesn’t need the stress. I mean, we already get you don’t give a fuck about women, but we do. You hurt my woman or unborn babies and I’ll gut you like a fuckin’ fish and not think twice. In fact, I’ll sleep like a fuckin’ baby right next to Gwen,” I inform him. “Who sent you to the fuckin’ house?”
“I don’t know his name,” Torres says. “He called my phone and told me to grab it so I could bring it here where she is. They don’t know where she is at this point in time. They will though.”
“How are they gonna find out?” Stryker asks, landing a punch to the fucker’s ribs.
“They follow me whenever I get sent on a mission for them,” he replies, gasping for breath.
“So, you knowingly led them back here? Where our women and kids come to hang out?” Playboy growls out.
“What the fuck do I care? It’s not like I actually want in this fuckin’ club full of bitches,” Torres responds just as Playboy’s fist lands in his face and then one in his stomach. “The fuck was that for?”
“You’re nothin’ but a bitch who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as our women,” Playboy growls at, stepping back away from him.
“Well, that takes out one more question I have to ask. You really are a pathetic excuse for a man. In fact, I’m beginnin’ to wonder if you really have a pussy,” I say as the men I call brothers begin to laugh. “Now, last question, who is after my woman.”
“Already told you I don’t fuckin’ know,” he says looking me in the eyes.
“How did they get in touch with you in the beginnin’?” I question him, knowing there’s more to the story than what he’s saying.
Torres looks around the room for several minutes. He’s looking for a way out of the mess he finds himself in, but I don’t believe there is one. I know he won’t be getting away from us for anything. Down here, there’s no window or any other way to get in the room other than to come up behind us. Prospects are still upstairs and won’t let anyone get past them. They know what to do when we’re down here. Much like the rest of us, the Prospects even want a piece of this cocksucker. Unfortunately for them, they don’t get to have that just yet.
“I got a problem with drugs and gamblin’ that’s how they found me. I owe a lot of money to Neil and his men. With Neil in prison because of that stupid bitch, I didn’t think they’d collect. They are. Since I don’t have any money, they decided I could work for them instead. My job is to let them know where the women are whenever they call me and do other things such as pick up packages and shit,” he answers, letting his head hang down.
We all stand in stunned silence for several minutes. This is the last thing we expected to hear from Torres. Not a single one of us had any clue he was an addict.
“Got anythin’ else to tell us?” I demand from him, already getting sick of being anywhere near the douche canoe and wanting to be back in my bed with Gwen.
“Fuck you,” he says, another smile covering his face through the blood drying on his skin.
“Wrong answer,” I reply, slamming the blade in his leg.
This won’t kill him, but it will cause pain as I begin