[Chresanto]
Rodney looks up at me, his hands cuffed behind his back. The small light fixture hanging above his head is the only source of light in the room. I pull my .9 mm from my waistband and place it on the table positioned in the front center of the room, Rodney's eyes following my piece. Yes, the safety is on... for now.
"Now, I'm not gonna sit here and beat around the bush with you, Rodney," I say, rubbing my goatee. "Six years ago, a teenage girl was kidnapped from L.A. Word on the street, you had a helping in her kidnapping."
Rodney's eyes never shift from the gun as he speaks. "Look, Chres, I have no idea-"
"Cut the shit," I growl. "I said I wasn't gonna beat around the bush, and I expect the same from you."
"I'm not beating around the bush." I clench my jaw, putting my hands in my pockets.
I sigh once out of frustration. "Quick question, Rodney. How do you think your wife and son would feel attending your funeral?" Rodney's eyes finally fixate on my face, and they're filled with rage. "Or vice versa?"
"If you touch them, you're dead, August!" he threatens, struggling in the handcuffs. "Just wait until I get out of the-"
I interrupt him again. "Correction, if." Rodney stops struggling, and a sinister smile spreads across my face. "And I don't think it's very wise for you to threaten someone who currently holds your life in their hands."
Rodney glares at me. "I don't know the nigga who kidnapped her. All I know is some buff nigga approached me with a syringe and address." I furrow my brows as he further elaborates. "They told me to sedate the girl, and I did. Then, I was told to take her to that address, and I obliged. I wasn't asking no questions, especially not since I was gonna be makin' ten grand off of it."
"Now we're getting somewhere." I lean against the table and cross my arms over my chest. "What was the guy's name?"
"I never got a name," he responds. "I just followed the directions I was given."
I shake my head with disappointment. "I'm sure you had to hear a name mentioned at some point, Rodney. You're a smart man."
Rodney shakes his head. "No name was ever mentioned."
"Are you sure about that?" I question, raising a brow. Rodney nods, and I pick the gun up from behind me, spinning it around on my finger with the safety still on. "I'ma patient man, Rodney, you know that, but as of now... well, my patience is relatively thin." I stop spinning the gun and aim it at him. "Now, either tell me what I wanna know or your son will be fatherless and your wife a widow. Your call." I take the safety off and cock it.
Beads of sweat start to slide down his face. "Look, August, you don't have to do this-"
"Yes, I do. That girl they took, she was my cousin, and now I find out that you drugged her!? Well, she was more like my little sister, so I suggest for you to start talkin' and start talkin' now." I point the gun at his shoulder.
"I'm tellin' you the truth man!" he protests.
I shake my head once again. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. You're just begging for your family to come to your funeral, aren't you?" He shakes his head. "Well, then... Give. Me. A. Fuckin'. Name!" I shout, my finger on the trigger.
