KNOX: Volume 3 Page 4

  What would Rebecca say about Knox Savage?

  She’d probably say that I’ve fucked her in more ways than one.

  But I haven’t fucked Rebecca in five days. I don’t usually go this long without a fuck. It messes with my head. But I’ve never been in a monogamous relationship.

  The blonde looks at me and licks her lips as she circles the brass pole. She runs her hands down the sides of her breasts and all the way down to the sides of her hips. Then she turns around and bends over to give me a good view of her g-string.

  I can’t help but think of Rebecca and the night she danced for me in my club room. We’d just had a breakthrough in the dungeon. She understood that she would never dance for or with anyone but me. So I knew that when she stood up from that sofa in the club room, I was going to get a show.

  Her legs were still shaky from the multiple orgasms I gave her in the dungeon as she walks toward the pole. She grabs the pole with both hands and pauses for a moment. Then she turns around and just the sight of her plump breasts bouncing makes my cock twitch.

  “Dance for me, baby.”

  She reaches over her head and grabs the pole behind her, then she slowly sinks down into a low crouch. Keeping one hand gripped on the pole, the other hand caresses her body as it moves down over her breasts, over the soft part of her abdomen, and finally between her legs. Her eyelids close as her mouth falls open, releasing a soft whimper.

  “Knox,” she breathes as she rubs her clit, her hips moving slowly backward and forward. “Oh, Knox.”

  “Louder, baby.”

  She screams my name as her legs begin to quiver. She screams it over and over again until I feel as if my dick might burst out of my pants. Then she falls to her knees, panting as she crawls toward me.

  “That’s it, baby. Crawl for me.”

  Her eyes are on fire with hunger as she grabs my knees and pulls herself up. She straddles my lap and reaches for my belt. I push her hands away and she looks stricken.

  “Please,” she begs.

  “Please, what?”

  “Please give it to me. Please let me dance on it.”

  I smile as I undo my belt and my pants, releasing my erection. She smiles as she pushes off my lap and grabs the head of my cock. She holds the tip against her clit. Then she moves her hips back and forth, using it to get herself off.

  “Do you like that?” she whispers.

  “Sweetheart, I’d have to be dead not to like that.”

  She moves her hips forward just a bit more so my cock touches her opening, but she doesn’t come down. She’s just teasing me. Maybe this is payback for the torture she endured in the dungeon. I’ll play along for a little while.

  Finally, she lets go of my cock as she comes down and I glide into her. She bucks her hips up and down, back and forth, slowly until she knows I’m about to blow. Then she stops.

  She climbs off my lap and turns around. She bends over slowly, giving me a clear view of her swollen pussy. I reach forward and easily find her clit. She moans as I caress her. Then I reach forward with both hands and grab her hips. I pull her backward so I can put my mouth on her.

  She’s so wet and juicy, and sensitive. She comes in no time. Then I stand up and she knows the drill. She grabs onto her ankles as I push into her. Instantly, my cock is slick with her moisture. I pull out and rub the tip against her clit again. As soon as she begins to moan, I ease myself into her ass.

  I thrust slowly at first, stretching her. Then I let her have it. She screams my name more times than I can count before we finally make it upstairs to my bedroom.

  The blonde crawls across the stage toward me. “You want a lap dance?” she asks in a husky voice.

  I shake my head and that’s when I glimpse Lenny on the other side of the club. Getting a lap dance from a brunette in a Dallas Cowgirl outfit.

  For shame, Lenny. You’re punting for the wrong team.

  As soon as I stand up, he sees me and he pushes the cowgirl off his lap. She shouts obscenities at him as he races for the exit. I despise chasing people.

  I run after him, pushing a bald guy in a Yankees jacket out of the way. Climbing over a table and hopping over a brass rail. I burst through the entrance and Billy already has Lenny in a headlock in the middle of the parking lot.

  I catch up to Lenny and land a thunderous left hook to his jaw. He’s out for a minute and Billy and Bruno carry him toward my car. They prop him up in the middle of the backseat of the SUV and sit down on either side of him. I slip into the passenger seat, wrapping my tie around my fist as Lenny’s eyes flutter open.

  “What the fuck?” he mutters as he reaches for his jaw.

  He winces when he feels the swelling. Then he tastes the blood in his mouth and he spits out a tooth into his hand.

  “You fuckin’ busted my jaw. And my tooth!”

  “You shouldn’t have made me chase you. I hate chasing people, Lenny.”

  He spits more blood out into his cupped hand.

  “Watch the leather or I’ll fucking kill you, you pig.”

  “Fuck you!” he slurs.

  Billy takes him into a headlock again and Lenny’s sneakers push against the floor of the car, trying to get some leverage to headbutt him.

  “Lenny, you better calm the fuck down or I’ll make you watch as I fuck your wife’s brains out.”

  “All right, all right, all right!”

  I nod at Billy as Lenny stops struggling. Billy releases him, but Lenny has to be a fucking asshole and land an elbow to Billy’s ribs. Billy clocks him on the side of the head and Bruno and I laugh.

  “Take that, you cocksucking piece of shit,” Billy says, spittle flying.

  I hold my hand up to stop him from inflicting any more damage. I need Lenny conscious.

  “That’s enough. Now give him your fucking shirt so he doesn’t bleed everywhere.”

  Billy pulls off his jacket and dress shirt. Then he pulls off his undershirt and shoves it into Lenny’s lap before he gets dressed again.

  Lenny takes the shirt and wipes the blood from his mouth and chin. “What the fuck do you want?”

  “You know what I want, Lenny. I want to know who’s hiding Tony. If you give me a name today, I’ll let you go and I won’t fuck your wife in front of you and your kids. I may even let you live to see your fortieth birthday. So what do you say, Lenny? You ready to tell me who’s shit-hole I need to look inside to find Tony’s weasel ass?”

  He shakes his head, but I can tell he’s trying not to cry. He already cried in front of me once, and he got away with his life that time. But he’s got too much pride to do it again.

  “Fuck,” he whispers, closing his eyes; resigning himself to his fate. “Nico … Nico Trapani. He’s…. He’s Geneva’s boyfriend.”

  “I know fucking Nico Trapani.”

  Geneva Angelo, Tony Angelo’s daughter, got herself involved with Nico Trapani a couple of years ago. I should have known there was more to it than her having bad taste in men.

  “I don’t know where Tony is, but Nico does.” He spits into the T-shirt again and he’s still bleeding pretty bad. “Can I go now? I swear that’s all I know about Tony.”

  “We’ll let you go, Lenny. But first you must be taught a lesson. Because you should have given me this information three days ago.”

  His eyes widen with panic. “But you wanted to know about Rebecca. I don’t know nothin’ about Rebecca.”

  “Are you sure you don’t know anything about Rebecca?” I nod at Billy and he twists Lenny’s arm behind his back.

  “Ow! Motherfucker!”

  “Answer the question, Lenny!”

  Lenny’s cries make me sick to my stomach. I can’t stand to see a guy I grew up with reduced to a sniveling rat. But that’s all he is now. And even if I don’t kill him, someone else will.

  “Please. I don’t know nothin’ about Rebecca. I swear on my fucking kids’ lives. I don’t know nothin’!”

  I nod at Billy and he lets him go, though I’m
pretty sure I heard one of Lenny’s bones snap. He’ll remember this meeting for a while. And he’ll stay quiet about it for as long as he can. At least a few days.

  That’s all I need now that I have Nico’s name. In less than forty-eight hours, Rebecca will be home. With me.

  And Tony will be dead.

  10

  John isn’t happy that I left Lenny alive. I can take some heat from John if it means that Lenny sweats it out a while longer. Besides, I like the idea of Lenny being taken out by one of his own. It’s more poetic.

  “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow night, John.”

  “Nothing matters except Rebecca. Don’t forget that.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Good boy. See you tomorrow.”

  I end the call and tuck the phone into my coat pocket. I’m not actually going to see John tomorrow night. I’m flying to Newfoundland to pick him up tonight. But I can never be too careful. Sometimes even the master must be kept in the dark.

  I peel off my jacket and leave it on the backseat. Then I roll up my sleeves and step out of the car.

  As I walk through the corridor toward the garage where I brought Rebecca five weeks ago, I’m struck by the irony or how it all started. And tonight, this is the beginning of the end.

  I also chose this location because I knew it would remind me of her. And like John said, I have to remember that nothing else matters. Not his escape. Not my vendetta. Nothing. Except Rebecca.

  I enter the garage and the first thing that hits me is the smell. It smells like stale motor oil, blood, and piss. Then I glimpse Nico Trapani sitting on a metal chair in the center of the garage. His hands tied behind the back of the chair and each of his ankles bound to the front chair legs. His head is slumped over and a thin rope of drool is dangling from his mouth.

  It’s showtime.

  “What the fuck is this?” I shout at Bruno.

  “You told us to rough him up.”

  “I told you to rough him up, not to turn him into a fucking vegetable. Are you idiots? Get the fuck out of here!” Bruno and Billy look confused, but they have to. They’re good actors. “Get out!”

  “Sorry, boss,” Bruno mutters as he passes me.

  “You’ll be real fucking sorry later on. Get the fuck out of here.”

  They leave the garage and, as the door clicks shut behind them, I imagine them out in the corridor laughing silently. They’re good kids, those two.

  I grab another metal chair from the corner of the garage and set it down a few feet in front of Nico, with the back of the chair facing him. Then I straddle the seat and rest my arms on the back of the chair and watch him for a moment.

  His light-brown hair is slick with sweat and probably blood. His Knicks jacket is torn at the collar and his gray sweat pants have grass stains on the knees. He must have put up a fight when they picked him up.

  “When I was four months old, I fell off the sofa and hit my ear on the wood floor,” I begin my story. It’s the same story I’ve used at least a half-dozen times before, but it’s very effective. If it ain’t broke…. “My mother took me to the hospital and the doctor told her I would probably never hear out of my left ear again. He also told her I would probably have trouble learning how to speak and I’d be behind in all my classes. Basically, he told her I’d be in the fucking cripple classes for the rest of my life.”

  Nico’s chest rises and falls slowly, but he doesn’t acknowledge me.

  “But my ma wasn’t having that. She started me on speech therapy when I was one year old. And she didn’t listen when the therapists told her I needed a hearing aid. When I was four, she took me to a doctor who did experimental surgery on me and I regained most of the hearing in my left ear.” I laugh as I think of what a crock of shit this story is. “My ma was a real ball-buster. She was a fighter. She wouldn’t give up. And by the time I was seven years old, I didn’t need any more speech therapy.”

  I push my chair closer to Nico and he finally looks up. His left eye is swollen shut. His nose is broken and bloody. His bottom lip is split wide open and that’s why he’s drooling like a baby.

  I continue undaunted by his appearance. “So you see, I loved my mother. She liked to help people. So, naturally, I like to help people. And I want to help you, Nick. Do you mind if I call you Nick?” I pause for a moment, but he doesn’t say anything. “Of course you don’t mind. Anyway, I want to help you get out of this building alive. I want to help your mother, your sister, your girlfriend, and the baby she’s carrying, live to see another day. You understand what I’m saying? I want to help you, Nick. But I can’t help you if you don’t cooperate.”

  His head falls forward again and I let out a loud sigh as I stand from my chair and kick it aside. This gets his attention and he looks up at me again.

  “Fuck you,” he mumbles, his words tripping over his fat lips. “And your mother.”

  I nod as I chuckle. “That’s right, Nick. Make this more difficult. That’s exactly what your family wants.” I turn around and yell at the door, “Bruno! Bring her in!”

  Nico’s good eye widens as he watches the door. The metal door swings open and Bruno walks in with Geneva Angelo. She blindfolded and her hands are tied behind her back, but otherwise, she’s untouched.

  “Genie!” I call out excitedly. “Long time no see.”

  “What the fuck is this?” she asks as she walks in.

  “Let her go!” Nico shouts. “This ain’t got nothing to do with her.”

  “Nicky, is that you? What’s going on?”

  “Don’t panic, Genie. Stress is not good for the baby.”

  “Who are you?” she shrieks as she attempts unsuccessfully to break free of Bruno’s grip.

  I walk up to her so she can hear my voice clearly, but I leave her blindfold on. I pull a hunting blade out of my back pocket and Nico watches as I unfold the knife.

  “Should I tell her who I am, Nick? Or should I show her?”

  He shakes his head and fights against his restraints. “Please don’t do this. I’ll….”

  “What will you do, Nick? Will you tell me what I want to hear or will you tell me the truth? Because I’ve gotta be real honest with you. Genie won’t appreciate it if you lie to me. Will you, Genie?”

  I press the tip of the knife to her jaw and she flinches.

  “What the fuck was that? Nicky, what’s going on?”

  “I can’t!” Nico roars.

  “Listen to your girlfriend, Nick.” I trace the knife down her neck and stop when it’s just above her belly.

  “Jesus Christ,” she breathes. “Just tell him!”

  If Genie knew what she was trying to convince Nico to tell me, she’d probably rather I kill her and her unborn child. But she won’t find out until it’s too late.

  I smile at Nico as I make a little sawing motion in front of Genie’s belly. He gags then vomits a little onto his lap. I’ve never hurt a woman in my line of work, and I never will. But Nico doesn’t know that.

  “Fine. But get her out of here.”

  “Thatta boy, Nick. I knew you’d make the right choice.” I nod at Bruno and he hauls Genie out of the garage. Then I retrieve the chair I kicked aside and take a seat in front of Nico again. “All right, Nick. Let’s do this fast so we can both get out of here. Where is Tony Angelo?”

  Nico tells me the story of his cousin’s family who owns a goat farm in Vermont. They’ve been paid well to keep Tony hidden for the last year as he prepared to return to New York with a new identity. He’s running out of cash. And he’s tired of living in a basement like a rat.

  Nico insists that his cousin’s family will be out of the house tomorrow night since they’re coming to Bensonhurst for the Santa Rosalia Feast. He swears he doesn’t know where Rebecca is, but he knows Tony’s definitely the one calling the shots with her.

  Nico doesn’t know this, but he just signed his own death warrant. I had already planned to kill him, but I thought I’d give him a day or two locked up in this
garage to give up some more secrets. Now, I can’t risk anything getting back to Tony.

  “Thank you, Nick. You’ve helped me out tremendously.”

  “Can I go now?”

  I stand from the chair and pull it back into the corner. I give myself a mental pat on the back. It’s always a victory when I make someone talk without any further bloodshed.

  “I told you everything I know. You gotta let me go!”

  I exit the garage and Bruno is waiting with Genie just outside the door. “Take her to the loft on Madison. Make sure she’s comfortable. She’s gonna be there a few days.”

  Billy looks at me with that gleam in his eyes. He’s ready for his instructions. I nod at him then I set off down the corridor as he heads back into the garage. I don’t stick around to hear the gunshot.

  11

  The flight from Newark to St. John’s Airport in Newfoundland is exactly eight hours. My jet gets us there in two-forty-five. As soon as we land in Terra Nova, a helicopter is already waiting to take us to John’s hideaway.

  John’s hideaway. Sounds like a fucking dive bar. But it’s not. John Veneto, King of Bensonhurst, has been living in the basement of a farmhouse in the Newfoundland countryside.

  I’ve got a variety of hideaways stashed across the globe. I fly all my clients to and from those locations on my private fleet. We doctor flight logs and sometimes we’ll zig-zag the globe in a dizzying pattern to get the high-profile clients from one location to another.

  But I’m going straight to John’s hideaway today because he won’t be going back there after tonight. Once Tony is dead, John can go home to Bensonhurst and I resume control of the neighborhood. And I can find Rebecca.

  And propose to her.