Bound Together (Dangerous Sinners)

I sold her. The words echo in my ears, making my blood run cold, and my rage ignites into an inferno. “I’m gonna ask you one last time. Where is she?”

Sergei puts a cigar in his mouth and lights it. As he’s puffing on it, I want to shoot it right out of his fat, stubby hands. “Who knows? Who cares? She was a complication. Now she’s not.”

“What are you gonna tell her father? Wasn’t marrying her part of your deal? You’re gonna risk a war by selling Hasanov’s daughter?”

Sergei gazes at me before his head rolls back, and he belts out a laugh. “You think I made a move before talkin’ to Hasanov? He agreed with me. He said that our deal was more valuable than his whore daughter who couldn’t keep her fuckin’ legs—”

I don’t let him finish his sentence as I unload the clip into his body.

Sergei’s body falls to the ground with a thump. I walk over and stare down at him. Blood spurts from his mouth, and his body convulses as he fights for breath.

I see the cigar beside him and pick it up. “You know, I always hated the way you looked at her.” I glide the lit end just above his . “You won’t need your eyes in hell.” I dig the cigar into his eyes, burning them as I watch the blood pour from his body. “This is for Samira, you useless sack of shit.”

Sergei gulps for air. “You’ll never find her.”

I dig my finger into the bullet hole closest to his heart and push. “Burn in hell, motherfucker.”

“What do you want me to do with the body, boss?” Mikhail asks.

“You don’t have to do anything. You’re free.”

“That’s great. I need a job. My old boss kinda got put out of business. You lookin’ for an enforcer?”

Part Two

Present-day

Chapter 4

Maxim

My hand bleeds as I keep punching him in the face. He can’t fight back, and I don’t need to use the amount of force I’m using, but I don’t care. The most recent information we have about Samira’s whereabouts is in Chicago. Who knows what scum bag has her or what he’s making her do?

Ten years I’ve searched for her. Ten years and all I’m left with is the memory of a ghost. We’d get intel on her being seen somewhere, but she’d be gone as soon as I got there.

“Where is she, motherfucker?” I scream into his bloody face. His eye can’t focus, one slightly hanging out of its socket.

“I don’t know.” He spits blood, trying to catch his breath. He’s a mess, minutes from dying.

I should put him out of his misery, but this asshole has information. I grab the knife and trail the blade down his exposed chest. His shrill screams echo in the warehouse as I slash the blade left and right against his flesh, making different zigzag patterns.

“Who would have guessed using a knife like a crayon could be so much fun?” I smirk at the fucker before turning to Mikhail, his eyes unmoving. As usual, an icy glare that shows no emotion. “You like my Picasso, Mik? You figure they’d feature it in The Louvre if I cut the skin off his body?”

“They have some weird shit in museums,” Mikhail says calmly. “Gotta shoot your shot.”

I laugh before turning to the asshole. “Hear that? I need to shoot my shot.”

“Please,” He begs, his body shaking from blood loss or fear. “I know shit. I’m nobody. They tell people in my pay grade shit. Last time I saw the girl was years ago. My old boss, the guy in charge of the girls, went to jail, and the girls, I don’t know what happened to them. A bunch of them got picked up. Some ran away. They mentioned Chicago. Some have pimps. Others probably OD’ed. Listen, man. Your girl? She’s dead and gone. Once they go through it, these girls are never the same. They become junkies and whores, or criminals.”

Each word he breathes makes my blood boil. He’s not lying. That mess my father put her in could have done some real fuckin’ damage. I’ve spent ten years of my life in organized crime so I could find her. I’ve shut down multiple rings. I’ve helped victims get their lives back. I can get her back, help her. Make her alright.

So as I listen to this asshole saying that it’s a lost cause, I want to make him scream in agony. “Guess your momma never told you to be careful with your words, huh?” His flesh makes a slushy sound as I dig the knife deep. “You could’ve helped them.” He howls as I twist the blade, rotating it clockwise and counterclockwise. I’m sure I’m messing with some of his essential organs. “Instead, you fuckin’ hurt them. Used them. Sold them.”