Sizzle
Sizzle
Holly S. Roberts
Sizzle
Holly S. Roberts
Published by Four Carat Press
Copyright 2016 Holly S. Roberts
Printing History
eBook edition 2016
Paperback edition 2016
Edited by Michelle Kowalski
Cover by Fantasia Frog Designs
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be multiplied, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by whatever means. Electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without express written permission of the writer. This eBook is licensed for your use only.
This is a work of fiction. ALL characters are derived from the author’s imagination.
No person, brand, or corporation mentioned in this Book should be taken to have endorsed this Book nor should the events surrounding them be considered in any way factual.
Dedication
To Carol Hall for all the incredible work you do on my behalf.
You lift my spirits each day.
Thank you.
Alex
I SHAKE THE SWEAT
from my face and try to dislodge the pictures coursing through my mind. I woke up this morning with them clicking one after the other. Hours later, I’m giving my penance full reign. With each strike of my fist, the next picture generates like an old slideshow.
My mother peering at me in chastisement. Moon’s father shaking his head when I told him I would make my own way.
Another strike of my fist and another grunt from my victim
. Moon’s mother smiling at me in tenderness and then screaming as she was raped and murdered. My sister crying when I sent her away. Madison’s face when she put three bullets into a piece of scum and became one of us
.
My next jab is well-calculated and his ribs give way. I receive a scream this time, and it conjures the perfect image of my father’s head delivered in a box. Not just the image, though. Oh no—the smell, the flesh dripping from his skull, and the liquid evidence of what remained of the man who raised me. That image is the worst.
This is why I kill. It’s also why I do it with my fists when Moon doesn’t stop me by granting mercy with a quick bullet. I’ve found that keeping a person alive while making them suffer is a talent. It’s one of the things I do best.
Ramon Romero is all but dead. He only exists because I need information before I put him out of his misery. My leather-gloved hands and the lower half of my arms are covered in Ramon’s blood. He’s learning the hard way that you don’t fuck with Moon’s organization and especially not Moon’s wife. When you fuck with Moon, you get me.
You don’t want me.
Ramon expels a slight grunt after a particularly low strike to the gut. I have him bound and hanging by his arms from a metal chain connected to a rafter about sixteen feet above us. His legs gave out hours ago. The damage to his shoulder sockets is something he won’t need to worry about. With an oath, I pull my next punch and lift his head by the hair. His eyes are almost swollen shut.
“Names?” I huff into his face and click past another image in my mind.
This is my killing zone.
Slobbery, bloody bubbles spill from between Ramon’s misshapen lips. “Please,” he manages to breathe.
My voice is low and steady. “I’ve just begun, asshole. Who had you following Moon’s wife?” I need the information—sooner rather than later. Madison’s bodyguard, Jess, spotted the tail a week ago. I wasn’t a fan of hiring Jess, but that was between Madison and Moon. Jess isn’t my type. She shouldn’t be Madison’s either. I actually laugh at the thought, and the sinister sound echoes in the small room. Jess is a bona-fide, he-man dike. Cropped hair, bulging muscles, and nerves of steel. I should know; I’ve boxed and grappled with her. We managed not to kill each other and now share a mutual, wary respect. Her spotting the tail raised that respect a tad. After she notified Moon, it became my job to find Ramon. I just had no clue
who
Ramon was when I went into hunting mode. He was good and managed to evade me for six fucking days. The fact that Jess tagged him yesterday, before I could, rankles, but I’ll live. Jess is with Moon and Madison right now while I take care of the scum who poses a threat to Madison.
Again my laughter echoes. Ramon must think I’m as crazy as my reputation makes me out to be. I continue laughing. Madison prefers I call her Mak. Since the wedding and the change from Madison Abigail Kinlock to Madison Abigail Moon, I call her Mam for her married initials or Madison or whatever annoys her most. She loves me, or so I tell her on a regular basis. Actually, I love her like a sister, which is why she met Moon in the first place. She resembles my sister in appearance. Only appearance and even that’s harder to see as time goes by. The two are emotionally nothing alike. I met Madison in a parking garage where she was taking pictures of a scumbag getting head in the back of his car. Mad was a private investigator hired by the scumbag’s wife. Within a few minutes of verbally sparring with her, I knew Moon would find her attractive and most of all intriguing. Turns out, Madison was made for him.
Thoughts of Madison take me full circle to my sister, Theresa. I do my best to steer away from thoughts of her. I haven’t seen my sister in years, and I’ve never met my niece and nephew. Too dangerous. And that brings me back to Ramon.
“He-ssss kill me,” slides from his lips like a snake.
I move closer so his broken nose is inches from my face. “Listen you fuck. I’m going to kill you. It can be quick or take a few unpleasant days. One way or another, I’ll have a name and you’ll be dead.”
He starts crying.
I have no sympathy. There were many things he could have said when I picked him up that would have changed this course. Wanting to be part of Moon’s organization is one of them. I’ve run into several overzealous Moon fans who think their small piece of criminal activity is better suited for the big time. Think again, fuckheads. Ramon would have received a beating for following Madison and wouldn’t be part of anything concerning Moon. Or he could have been a PI, which is what Madison was before she attached herself to Moon. Again, most likely he’d have received a beating. But the asshole ran. He also attacked me with a knife when I cornered him. He has talent with a blade and that shows he’s a very dangerous asshole. I have a slice in my arm for not killing him immediately, and I’m sure he doesn’t appreciate my sacrifice in the fucking least.
I release his hair and his head falls forward like he’s already dead. The next blow breaks another rib and he passes out. My fists are sore. I enjoy this pain. The pain and the flashes of painful memories are how I’m wired. I walk over to my large black bag and remove what I need. With all his broken ribs I’m most likely dealing with a punctured lung. There’s one way to find out. From a small kit, I remove a ten inch rubber tube and disposable scalpel.
I make an incision beneath his arm and slide the tube past the busted ribs so it’s securely inside his chest cavity. Air immediately escapes the tube and Ramon’s chest expands. Dr. Santos explained the procedure to me a few years ago. He wasn’t thrilled, but he understands the world I live in. The man who died too quickly because I didn’t have this knowledge was problematic.
Ramon needs a break, so I head to the utility shower that has a large tiled floor. I’m in a sectioned off portion of one of our downtown warehouses and it’s hotter than hell inside. Phoenix in July is no place for the weak. The warehouse is cooled by water evaporation, which means instead of one hundred and fifteen degrees it’s in the nineties. Maybe we should invest in ceiling fans.
I’m shirtless and Ramon’s blood is splattered across my chest. I remove my bloody gloves, shuck my jeans, and turn on the lukewarm summer water that Phoenix is known for. Stepping under the spray gives me some relief from the heat and also my itchy skin caused by the blood drying.
Moon and I had this room built for the purpose of taking care of serious problems. After Madison witnessed an unfortunate scene through a warehouse window that included my fists plowing into our target and Moon putting a bullet through the guy’s head, we changed things up a bit. Now this area of the warehouse is soundproof and there are no windows. We also added the shower and immediately to the right of the inside door there’s an incinerator. It makes the damn place even hotter. I don’t want to think about the permit required to install the incinerator. Moon paid a lot of money to get it fast-tracked.
I look at my bare feet and observe the pink water sliding down the drain. Using a bar of soap, I wash my face and cropped hair. The bandage on my arm is wet and the burning ache from the knife slice only pisses me off more.
After a quick and thorough soaping to the rest of me, I shut off the water and grab a towel from a stack on a table a few feet away. I take small scissors from my bag and cut the soggy tape and bandage from my arm. The wound is a clean slice about two inches long. I re-apply gauze and tape and forget about it for now. When this is done, I’ll clean it again and use instant glue to seal it. I lift a clean pair of jeans from my bag and pull them on. I’m barefoot and will remain this way until the job is finished. I swill a large bottle of water and prepare myself for the next round.
