Violent Beginnings (The Moretti Crime Family 2)

Who the fuck is this guy?

He isn’t a cop nor anyone the mafia would send. If I believed in coincidences, I would say he is here by chance, but I don’t.

Keeping my knee pressed between his shoulder blades, I lift my upper body up, so I can search him. He has three things on him. A phone, his wallet, and a fucking camera. I shove all three items in my pocket.

Getting to my feet quickly, I drag him up with me and slam him against the closest tree. He hardly fights, and I wrap my hand around his throat, pinning him in place.

“Who are you?” I demand. His eyes go wide, and his mouth opens, but it seems like he can’t get anything out besides a little wheeze. I loosen my grip just enough for him to talk.

“I’m nobody. I was just walking,” he explains, but I can tell it’s a lie.

“Wrong answer,” I growl.

Grabbing his shirt, I shove him away and quickly pick up the ax from the ground. “You’re going to walk a few feet ahead of me. If you try to run or do anything else stupid, I’ll chop off your head.”

“O-Okay, okay.” He stumbles over his feet. He’s a skinny guy with shaggy hair that reminds me of a surfer. He’s also much younger than me. Probably closer to Fallon’s age. Which leads me to wonder? Is this guy her boyfriend?

“That way, back to the house. You know, the one you accidentally stumbled upon even though there isn’t another house for ten miles in either direction.”

He walks without another word, which means I’m right. He isn’t here by chance.

By the time we get back to the house, I’m a little more relaxed. Whoever he is, he came unprepared and without backup.

I make him go into the house and force him to sit on a chair in the kitchen. He doesn’t even fight me. He looks way too scared to do anything, really.

He only speaks when he sees me picking up the rope. “You don’t have to do that. I’m not lying.”

I take a step toward him. “I don’t believe you.”

His eyes flicker to the door, and he tries to run. I shove him back down by his shoulders and tie him to the chair before I get out the items he had on him.

Flipping open his wallet, I pull out everything inside.

“So, Christopher Wheeler… Wanna tell me why you’re here?”

“Look, man, I’m not lying. I’m no one. A nobody—” My fist connects with his jaw.

His head snaps to the side, and blood flies through the air. Before he gets the chance to recover from the first punch, I follow up with two more. If only he were honest. He’s going to die anyway, but I could end it sooner if he told the truth.

“Please, stop! I’m no one.” His voice is shaking, and I’m pretty sure he is about to cry.

“Who sent you?” I ask between punches. “Tell me, now!”

“I-I don’t know! He just sent me to take some pictures, that’s it!”

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know. I swear. This guy contacted me by email. He transferred me money and gave me this address. Told me to get him some pictures of a blonde girl. I’m guessing it’s his girlfriend or something, and he wanted to catch her cheating.”

“When? When did he contact you?” I’m about to shake the fucker to death.

“This morning. He said it was urgent, and he paid me a lot of money, so I drove here right away. I figured it was easy money.”

Easy money? Does this idiot not realize who he is dealing with? Does he not realize he is going to die for that money?

“Did you get any pictures? If so, did you send them to anyone yet?” I ask while digging out the camera. It’s small and compact but has a retractable lens that allows clear long-distance shots. I turn the thing on and look at the little screen on the back.

I almost groan when I see the pictures he’s taken through the window. Pictures of Fallon—naked. My Fallon. Now, he is going to die.

“I got some pictures, but I haven’t sent them yet.”

“Good.” I nod approvingly.

The kid’s eyes light up with hope. “Does that mean you’re going to let me go now?”

I chuckle at his question. “No, kid, unfortunately for you, there is no leaving.”

Matter of fact, I might be the only one leaving this cabin alive.7FallonI wrap my arms around myself and pull my knees to my chest as close as I can. The cold seeps into my bones down here. I think the worst part isn’t the chill but that I’m not sure when he’s coming back, or if he’s ever coming back.

My nose wrinkles as I breathe through my nose. Death clings to the air, the walls, every inch of this room. I would know it even if it wasn’t for the puddle of dried blood on the floor. Even if it wasn’t for the unpleasant stench. I can feel it. Feel the poor souls who died in this room lingering within it.