Deadly Devotion

Chapter 20

Chiara

His face was covered in blood.

The man in front of me didn't look familiar at all, and I didn't know if that was something I should be grateful for or something I should be wary of. He was tied to a chair in the middle of my basement, the zip ties cutting into the skin of his wrists and ankles. His left eye was swollen shut, black and blue bruises covering half of his face. His black shirt was ripped in more places than one and his pants didn't fare any better. His left thumb was missing, blood dripping from the open wound. His right index finger had a cut so deep I could see the bone peeking from behind his flesh. It looked like he had been tortured for hours, and knowing Nico's men, I was sure that that was the case.

"He hasn't spoken since we brought him here," one of the men said as I walked in. He threw a glance at Sebastian, a question clear in his beady eyes, and Sebastian nodded.

"What do we know about him?" I asked, keeping  my eyes on the bleeding lump of flesh in front of me.

“His name is Michael Bordeaux, he is 44 years old, and he is an independent cleaner.” Mark flipped his pocket knife between his hands, walking in slow steps around the room. I could tell from his behavior that he was the kind of man that had a lot of pent-up energy inside of him, it was probably one of the reasons why Nico kept him by his side for so long. A man like that in a situation like this was highly useful, I just hoped he would control his temper long enough for us to get answers.

I glanced back at the shooter. He kept his eyes on the ground and his breathing steady. If it wasn't for the bruises, I would have probably known sooner that he was a professional. Cleaners in our world were very common, they were useful when we needed someone to take care of business that we wanted nothing to do with. Whether we needed to stay away from the scene or to keep our hands clean, cleaners would swoop in and handle it for us. Most cleaners, however, had affiliations with one of the big families of Chicago. Independent cleaners were rare, and they were dangerous because they had no loyalty to anybody except for money.

“Who hired you?”I asked, taking a few steps toward the bound man.

He didn't move, he didn't look up, and if I wasn't watching him like a hawk I would say he wasn't even breathing. I sighed, trying to reign in my temper.

“Listen here, Mr Bordeaux. I have been up for the whole day. I watched my husband get shot, I dug a bullet out of his flesh, and I waited at the hospital for hours on end for him to come out of surgery.” I looked at Mark signaling for him with two fingers, and he smiled as he handed me his pocket knife without a word. “So if it were up to me, I would be with my husband right now, waiting for him to wake up. Actually, if it were up to me, I would be up in my bedroom with Nico by my side safe and sound. That is not possible because of you, so I'm going to ask you again.” I got closer to him, standing right in front of him. Raising my hand in the air, I lunged the knife into his thigh, watching as he screamed in agony. “Who the fuck hired you?”

Michael seethed, spit flying from between his clenched teeth. His one open eye was staring at me with determination, something I would have respected, if I weren't out of my mind with grief.

“I'm not telling you anything,” he finally spoke, his voice low and gravelly. “You're wasting your time.”

“His bank records just came in,” Sebastian said as he scrolled through his phone. “Someone deposited a hundred and fifty thousand in his account this morning.”

“That's it?” I turned to him, anger sizzling through my veins. “The biggest mafia don in all of Chicago, and his bounty was only a hundred and fifty?” I yanked the knife out of his leg, relishing in the pained scream he let out. “Are you fucking new?”