Crossroads: Book 1

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Chapter 56

Mike


It’s been four days since I began to torcher Isaac for information. I must hand it to him; he’s stronger than he looks. I pull open the door to the empty clubhouse and lift the floorboard behind the bar with growing agitation. The sound of my boots is the only echo as I make my way down the cement stairs to the cell door where Jace stands waiting for me.

“Merry Christmas Eve,” he cheers.

I give him a pointed look. “People don’t say ‘Merry Christmas Eve,’ Jace. They say, ‘Merry Christmas’ on the actual day.” I roll my eyes at stupid Jace.

He smiles as I turn to look through the bars of the door and see Isaac sitting there. His head is down. His chin is resting on his chest with those bulky ‘old school’ headphones over his ears. I can hear the heavy metal music from where I stand. Fisting the door, I swing it open and walk up to the boy then rip the headphones off.

His head lifts, and his eyes open. “I was wondering if you’d be back,” the boy jokes. “What does a guy need to do around here to get some coffee?”

I pull up my familiar chair then sit in front of him while Jace stands by the door. I lean on my knees with my elbows. “Where’s Marcus?” It’s a simple question.

“Every day, you ask me this question, and every day, I tell you that I don’t know any Marcus.” Isaac sounds as annoyed as I feel. “Get it through your head; no one’s name is Marcus!”

He’s lying. He knows something; I can feel it in my bones. I slowly stand up in front of him then punch him once square in the nose.

“Ahh! Dude, can’t you punch me in a different spot?!” Isaac cries.

“Who is Declan to you?” I have my suspicions of who he is to him, but of course, I would like to make sure.

Isaac chuckles under his breath. “Back and forth, back and forth. You are so repetitive. So predictable.”

My sights hone in on that shiny gold object attached to his brow. It’s so fucking bothersome with the way the light shines on it.

I feel my face twist with irritation as I reach out and yank the ring out of his eyebrow.

“Ahh! Owe! Son of a bitch!” He waddles in his chair, wishing he could throw a punch.

I get in his face. “You didn’t see that coming, did you? Where is Marcus?” I try again.

He spits in my face. This boy doesn’t learn. I calmly wipe the mix of blood and saliva off my face. Then I look at him. His face is marked up with dark blue and black bruises. He has cuts on his lip, a ripped eyebrow with blood flowing steadily down the side of his face next to his eye. His nose is broken for sure. A couple of teeth are missing; blood is mixing in with old dried blood from the past few days. His neck has handprint bruises from when I tried strangling him. His arms have a few lacerations from the knife I used. A few could probably use some stitches, seeing as they keep oozing blood. He’s lucky he isn’t sitting in his own urine and feces; at least I let him use the toilet a time or two.

His leg has been bandaged from where I stabbed him on the side of the knee - that was a deep wound - I didn’t want him bleeding out on me. His foot isn’t wrapped though; that’s a fresh one from yesterday - I stabbed him on the top of his foot. He screamed like a little girl, yet, he keeps spitting in my face asking for more.

My hand grips the back of his chair for support as my other fist connects with his face again and again. “Red.” I feel hands on me. “You’ve been going at him for days now– if he knew anything, he would have told us!” Jace tries to reason with me, but I shove him off with a grunt.

Pulling myself back from Isaac, I admire my work. I refuse to believe that he doesn’t know anything.

Isaac spits out a wad of saliva and blood off to the side. “Tell me where Marcus is,” I calmly demand while I wipe our mixed-blood off my hands with a rag.

His crimson-filled mouth opens to laugh at me. “You really have no clue, do you?”

This boy is really annoying the shit out of me. I’m surprised my patience has lasted this long. “What do you mean?” I question.

“That girl of yours must really have your head clouded,” he taunts.

“Tell me what you know,” I ignore his statement.

“She’s hot. I see why you want her all to yourself.” He doesn’t let up.

My gaze narrows at him. “Who is Declan to you?” I question once more.

He smiles and lets his head fall back. “Oh, she looked so good on that bed...you know what I would have done to her if you hadn’t have interrupted me?” His head slowly rises back up with a smirk.

The fists by my sides tighten regardless of the broken skin, and my jaw clenches. I grab his neck and squeeze his throat. “Where is Marcus!?” I yell.

He coughs while trying to speak. I release just enough for his words to spill out. “There is...no... one man... named Marcus,” he tells me between gasps for breath.

I feel my brows furrow. “What the hell are you talking about?” Now we’re getting somewhere.

My grip loosens, and he smiles. “We are all Marcus.”

The look on my face tells him to continue, and when he is about to, someone clears his throat. Isaac looks over to Jace; I follow his gaze, annoyed at the interruption of my prisoner. Jace apologizes and leans into the conversation from the corner where he stands.

I stand up and look down at Isaac. “Marcus is the business, you idiot. We use a name as a cover so no one can trace everything that we do. We do so much more than drugs and trafficking little bitches,” Isaac explains, looking up at me.

The brain in my head is throbbing. I don’t understand. All this time, there has been no Marcus. Doesn’t make sense. I’ve met him. I’ve shaken his hand. He introduced himself as Marcus...

“I see you’re trying to connect the dots,” he chuckles sinisterly. “This whole damn town is wrapped around our fingers. You either join us or you die.”

I pace around the room to process this information. I look at Jace. He seems just as confused as I am standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. His brows are knit together; I can see he’s processing too.

“What’s his name, then?” I question Isaac.

Isaac spits down by his shoe. “First, you have to tell me something,” he says.

“What’s that?” I ask, rolling my eyes.

“Tell me...how tight is she?” I literally feel my eyes burn into him, my hands curl into fists. “She looked awfully tight; I wonder how she would feel around my dick,” Isaac smirks.

He’s doing this to get under my skin.

“Red, keep your cool,” Jace whispers in my ear. I push myself to walk over to the door. If he’s not going to tell me the name, I’ll just come back later, torcher him some more, then see what happens.

Isaac raises his voice. “When I get out of here, I’m going to finish what I started,” the sick freak gibes with a warning. My blood is reaching a boiling point imagining his hands all over her. The bones and muscles of my body are vibrating with a sense of rage I haven’t felt before. It’s much deeper; darkness is swallowing me whole. Red is all I see.

“When I see her again, I’m gonna make her scream. I’m gonna make-”

I don’t remember it happening. I literally have no recollection of reaching for the pistol in my waistband and pulling the trigger. It all happened so fast. For a split second, the sound resonates off the walls. In following the line of vision from the gun to the hole in his forehead, I know I’m the one who shot him.

I killed Isaac.

****For word count purposes, this is where I'd break for Part 2 to begin ****


The ringing in my ear from the gunshot suppresses Jace’s words screaming at me -I’m not sure what he’s saying. I can’t take my eyes off the limp body. This wasn’t supposed to happen...not like this, not in cold blood.

A hand touches my arm to lower the gun in my grip. “Michael,” the voice says above a whisper. I strain my eyes to peer into icy blue scared shitless ones staring right back at me.

“Michael...what the fuck did you just do?” Jace is calm but anxious. I don’t blame him; I just killed a restrained man—a kid.

“Get out,” I tell him. My nostrils are beginning to flare with self-loathing and the desire to be alone right now.

“Mike, hey, let’s talk about this. Let’s figure out a game plan or something –” Jace tries to reason.

My ears can’t stand his voice. I can’t listen to him right now. I know what I need to do, and he will not be a part of it. “Get out!” I roar.

I watch as he backs up for the door with his hands up. “Alright. If you need me, call me -okay?”

My sights take in the dead weight in front of me once more. “Just go, Jace,” I tell him with a low heavy sigh. With that, he walks out the door without another thought. I listen for the floorboard to fall back into place.

I’m alone. Placing the pistol back into my waistband, I reach for a back pocket with the other hand. I know exactly who I need to call.

************
Well, snap! Who saw that coming?!

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