Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
“You deaf or something? I asked you a fucking question.”
He blinks at me as if surprised I’d dare to talk to him. “This is none of your business, buddy. This is between me and this chick here.”
My lips curl into a smile, one I’m told makes people uneasy. It’s an image I’ve mastered over the years. Put them at ease before you slit their throat. I don’t want this fucker to know I’m about to make his worst nightmare a reality. I don’t want him to see me coming. “This is a private party, or can anyone join?”
His shoulders relax, and his filthy face becomes grotesque as he replies with a thin smile, “Hey, man, I’ve got no problem if you want my sloppy seconds, but I get to blow into this pussy first.”
“Nah, bro, I’m not interested.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “Suit yourself, but I’m getting me a taste of this pussy tonight.”
“I can’t allow that. The lady doesn’t seem interested in whatever you’re packing.”
He turns to me, and his pudgy face grows red as his nostrils flare. One second passes, then another. The guy looks utterly confused as if he’s not sure I’m talking to him.
He lunges at me with the knife, but I’m quicker and point my gun in his face. “You shouldn’t have brought a knife to a gunfight.”
“Listen, man, why don’t you walk away? This ain’t none of your business.”
The audacity of this motherfucker. He’s got a gun pointed right at his face, and he has the nerve to tell me to walk away. “I’m making it my business.”
His feet shuffle subtly. If you blinked, you’d miss it, but after years in the Bratva, I’m familiar with the tells that indicate fear. Killing men teaches you to recognize the moment they realize they’ve met the grim reaper.
His confidence wavers. Stupid as this guy is, he’s not so stupid he thinks he can win a fight with someone holding a gun.
He moves back, his hands in the air, the knife no longer an immediate threat. “Sorry, man. I wasn’t looking for any trouble. You know how it is. Friday night, and all that. I went out with the guys for a couple of beers, and this chick was a tease the whole night. She was flirting with me. I spent a good fifty dollars on her at the bar. You’d think fifty bucks would get me something. Too bad she was such a fucking tease.”
This motherfucker. “Yeah, I get it. You see that car?”
“The Ford Focus? Yeah, why?”
“Walk over to it.”
The fucker doesn’t move his feet. He stands there, immobile like a fucking statue.
“I suggest you move unless you want me to blow your brains out right here.”
His feet shuffle again, this time like he has rockets attached to the soles of his boots. I’ve never seen a man move so quickly, but you should never underestimate a scared coward. “I won’t touch her. We can forget this ever happened.”
“Take out your dick and put it on the hood of the car,” I demand.
“I’m not into any of that shit, man. I don’t want guys sucking my dick. I’m not gay.”
“Trust me, that pathetic excuse for a cock is the last thing I’d ever suck. It’s so pathetically small, I’m not sure you can even call it a dick.”
“What the fuck is all this?” he demands.
“Take your knife and start slicing like you’re preparing a cucumber for a salad.”
Panic dashes in his eyes as they roam from me to the goddess. This fucker is pathetic enough to delude himself that the woman he was about to rape is now going to help him. Then again, maybe she will. She could be some bleeding-heart softy who preaches an idealistic notion that everyone deserves a second chance. Some people deserve a second chance, but not people like him who violate the rights of others. Not people selfish enough to believe their wants outweigh all else. All women need to know they’re safe, and this fucker does not care about keeping them safe.
I’m not saying I’m a good guy. I know I’m not. I’m a piece of shit. A killer. My morals are a darker shade of gray, but one thing I’m not is a rapist like this motherfucker.
His hands shake as he lifts his semi-hard cock and puts it on the hood of the red Ford Focus. The knife he held so boldly not too long ago now stays limp in his fingers.
“Thin slices, julienne length, asshole.” He doesn’t move. I cock the gun. “Better hurry. I’m an impatient man.”
The fucker holds the blade to the tip of his cock and screams as he slices. He looks up at me.
“Go on. One slice of cucumber isn’t enough for a salad.”
Blood spurts as he slices another part of his cock, then another. His screams echo violently in the night air.