Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97426 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97426 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Ricky, Ricky, Ricky, still think you have a chance to get away?” I snarl as he rolls around on the ground groaning.
I stomp on his hand and close my eyes as I savor the crunching sound of his bones crushing. He won’t be using that hand to steal anytime soon.
I lick my lips as if tasting justice for his crimes in the air. It’s simple. If my family allows you Grace in Vander City, you respect that. Earn what’s yours and don’t touch what’s ours.
This motherfucker felt entitled to things that didn’t belong to him. Now I’m here. The one Knight you don’t want to see coming.
“Let’s go. I don’t have all night,” I bark.
“Please,” he gasps.
It’s too late for that. I grab him by his hair and drag him back the way we came. He asked for this. I wouldn’t be here if his ass didn’t have sticky fingers. He thought he was smart enough to steal from our family.
In concept, he had a good idea. Crossing over into Sunnyside to make his transactions and setting up shop there too. He kept all his dealings with our stolen money west of Sunnyside, in the opposite direction of Vander.
All outside of where Uncle Blake would be watching. Or so he thought.
“You’re one dumb bastard. He warned you if you fucked up, I was coming,” I snarl. “Now, I’m getting calls in the middle of the night and you tried to run. Now I’m pissed.”
I get him back into his office, where Odell—one of Uncle Blake’s guys, is setting up for me. I nod at the tall, dark-haired man my uncle sends to assist me on jobs like this. I wouldn’t say we’re friends.
He’s here to do a job like me. I trust him to do his part while I do mine. When it’s done, he’ll report to Uncle Blake as usual.
I’m good at what I do. I think it’s a place for me to put all this rage inside me. I’ve been looking forward to these calls more and more lately.
If I’m not working out or going to class, I have too much time to think, which leads to thinking about her. I’m so tired of thinking about my missing wife.
“Oh God,” the asshole cries as I punch him in his gut after we have him strung up.
“Shut up. I’m just getting started. I’m not about to listen to your ass whine through this ass whipping.”
“Fuck you,” he chokes out.
“Oh yeah, that’s right. You have a mouth on you.” I punch him in the face and knock out a few teeth. “Still in a talking mood?”
He whimpers and spits out blood. I roll my shoulders and focus on the task at hand. Uncle Blake wants him to hurt for the money he stole, but he doesn’t want him dead. Not yet.
I spend the next hour tenderizing this dude like a piece of meat. Odell has to stop me before I take things too far. The room comes back into focus as he places a hand on my shoulder.
John-John—another of Uncle Blake’s guys, comes into the room. He looks my handiwork over and shakes his head. I shrug and pull out a handkerchief to wipe my hands.
Looking down at my knuckles, I can’t help wondering how I got here. What would my life have been like if I did take off and leave all this behind? I shrug the thought off.
I’d probably still be empty. She still would have fucked me over and left. I’m right where I should be.
“The boss just called,” John-John says. “We have one more stop.”
“Fine. Let’s go.”
I turn and leave this mess behind. I guess this is better than sitting alone in my apartment thinking about what today is. Climbing on my bike, I pull out my phone and see the address for our next stop.
I take off as the guys pull out in their SUV. Someone is about to feel the pain I feel as another anniversary passes. Sorry bastard.
Oh well. I don’t show up unless it’s deserved.
Chapter 7
Your Brother
Anthony
“Ah, Anthony. I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” Uncle Blake croons as I walk into his office.
I look my uncle over as he gives me a broad smile. He still looks good for his age. Though his beard is still salt and pepper, his hair has turned more white since his time in jail. His Greek-Italian heritage is strong in his features.
From what I was told, the last name Knight came from the migration to America. My great-great-great-grandmother came over with the family she worked for. The wife of the family died during the voyage and the husband married my great-great-great-grandmother shortly after they arrived.
The rest is history. Vander City and Bridge Lake history. I shake those thoughts away, knowing I can’t shake away who I am or what it’s cost me.