He was fifty bucks short.
I glared at him before pointing my gun at his foot and shooting.
He screamed out in pain as blood started going everywhere. Wild eyes landed on mine and he yelled out, “Why the fuck did you do that?”
“You’re short,” I said calmly, leaning back into my chair and extending my leg out to stretch it.
“Well, you should have just said so. I’ve got more!” His face had contorted in pain and he gripped his leg tightly. Sweat now poured down his face and his clothes were a wet, sweaty mess.
“I shouldn’t have to fuckin’ say so, Bruno. You should know by now that when I come to collect my money I want all of it. What I don’t want is to be fucked around.”
“It’s hardly fucking you around, asshole,” he muttered. “How was I to know that sock was fifty bucks short?”
I shot his other foot and watched him writhe in pain. “Where the fuck is the rest of your money stashed? And don’t screw me around anymore,” I demanded.
He struggled to get the words out. Jerking his chin at the kitchen pantry, he stuttered, “In there, top shelf in the brown container at the back.”
Pushing my chair back, I raised my brows and said, “Funny how bullets encourage honesty, isn’t it?”
“Fuck you,” he spat out, clearly not giving a shit if he pissed me off anymore.
I ignored him and reached up into the cupboard in search of the brown container. My eyes widened in surprise when I opened it. I whistled and murmured, “Fuck me, Bruno. You’ve been holding out on me.”
There had to be twenty grand in here.
“Just take fifty and leave me the fuck alone.”
My gaze flicked to him. Was he deluded? “You really think I’m gonna walk out of here today without this cash?”
His fight wasn’t gone. “I swear to fucking God,
Kick, if you take my money I will hunt you down for it.”
I chuckled and cocked my head to the side, giving him a questioning look. “You really think you’ll be alive to hunt me down?”
Finally, he realised the depth of shit he was in today. He pushed his chair back and attempted to stand. I watched as he collapsed onto the floor, his body twisting in pain as he did so.
I walked to him and looked down over him. “You’ve been screwing our club around for years now, motherfucker, and my president is finally done with you. And besides, you’re a junkie criminal who preys on the fuckin’ elderly and disabled so I’d be ridding the world of a scumbag we can do without.”
Hi voice pleaded with me. “Take the money, Kick. You’ll never hear from me again. And I promise not to rob or hurt those people anymore.” His meaningless words fell out of his mouth. I knew they meant nothing, because Bruno was a creature of habit and he’d never made good on any of his promises before.
“It’s too late for more shitty promises.” I looked around his kitchen. “I won’t miss chasing you for cash. Between the dive of a bar you drink your life away in and this dump, you’ve really outdone yourself in life.”
He spat at my feet before giving me a filthy look. “Fuck you!”
I pointed my gun at his forehead and pulled the trigger.
He fell backwards as blood went everywhere.
I pointed the gun at his chest and fired three more bullets into him. Just to be certain King got his wish to never have to deal with him again.
Then I grabbed the money from the brown container, and the money off the table, stashed it in my jacket and left the way I’d come in.
Bruno’s body may not be discovered for days, weeks even, depending on the stench it caused. He had no family or real friends I was aware of, and in the world we lived in, no one gave much of a shit about anyone unless you were part of a club or gang. Bruno belonged to no one and so no one would care.
That was the cold hard truth of our world.
***