Violent Beginnings (The Moretti Crime Family 2)

Ignoring the heat and softness of her skin, I drag her through the house, down the stairs, and into the basement. Her entire body is shaking when we get downstairs. That shaking only intensifies when we reach the cell.

It’s stupid, but glancing over at her, I notice how pale she is. All the blood has drained from her face as she surveys the small concrete, windowless room. Looking so scared and pitiful, I almost spin around and walk her back upstairs. Almost.

Then I remember how important it is to prove my point, to show her she is nothing but my property. Nothing but my possession, something I will do as I please with.

“It’s soundproof, so no one will hear your screams,” I say like she needs anything else to scare her.

Patience isn’t my strong suit, so when she doesn’t enter the cell straight away, I push her through the doorway and watch as she stumbles forward, barely catching herself. Turning around quickly like I might attack her, our gazes collide. She’s pleading with me without words. Begging me not to leave her here.

As if it were going to be that easy.

Ignoring her puppy dog eyes, I slam the door in her face. I lock her in and force myself to climb up the stairs, putting as much distance between us as I can get. Damn her! Her tempting body and soft eyes. She’s a reminder of everything I will never have.

Feeling like I’m about to come apart at the seams, I know I need to find something to do. This aggression needs to come out somehow, and I don’t trust myself to let it out on her yet, not without doing some serious damage. I don’t want to hurt her, not really, but I’m not myself right now. What are you doing, Markus?

When I told Julian I was going to take some vacation time, I wasn’t even sure what that entailed. All I knew was that I wanted the girl on that stage, and I wanted to go somewhere away from people with her.

However, now that I’m here, I’m questioning everything. I wonder if I can even handle this. It’s been years since I was with a woman and even longer since I slept beside one. I’m not good at being kind, and I’ve never had to care for anyone but myself.

Walking into the kitchen, I stop in front of the sink and stare out the window that overlooks the backyard. There are a bunch of logs that lay unsplit on the ground just a few yards away from the house.

A little fresh air would do me good and help clear my head. Physical exertion usually helps relieve the aggression, but there is nothing and no one but Fallon out here. I suppose I could find an ax and finish cutting up the logs scattered outside.

You didn’t come all the way here to be an outdoorsman.

Nevertheless, I walk over to the door and slip my feet into my boots.

I find the ax easily, hanging up on the side of the house above a stack of already cut firewood. I grab it and start working. One log after the next, I chop through the wood like it’s nothing but butter.

I work through the whole pile, the muscles in my arms starting to burn, my heart rate picking up, I channel all of my anger into each strike, and I finally feel like I’m getting a bit tired.

I’m almost done stacking the firewood next to the house when movement catches my eye on the far corner of the property. It’s just some leaves rustling, which could be anything.

We are far out, and I didn’t hear any cars approaching. No one knows where we are, and this is one of Julian’s safe houses. There is almost no way someone followed us here. It has to be an animal… but what if it’s not?

Briefly, I contemplate running inside and grabbing my gun from the safe. I didn’t think I’d need it, and I felt safer without it lying around. A gun would be the only way Fallon could win in a fight against me. I figured it’d be safer to take an equalizer like that out of the equation.

Deciding on taking a risk, I walk to the edge of the property armed with an ax instead of my usual gun. When I get closer, my hunch is confirmed when I find a fresh track of footprints in the dirt. Motherfucker.

Tightening my grip on the ax, I follow the tracks. It doesn’t take me long before I see someone moving in the distance. The guy is trying his best to get away from me, but I easily catch up with him.

He looks over his shoulder, seeing me approach. I raise the ax like a fucking Viking warrior charging into battle, ready to strike. I expect him to pull out a gun, but he continues running like a little pussy. “Please!” He yells out seconds before I drop the ax and tackle him to the ground. He struggles slightly, waving his arms around, making it clear he has no kind of fighting skills.