The Son-In-Law’s Revenge

35

Logan pulls the brown bag over the man’s head, a hem of the cloth bag catching in the man’s ear. Logan grunts and lifts the bag forcefully, ignoring the man’s cry in protest as the piece drags on his big ear. The man wails louder which only serves to annoy Logan even more he drags the bag so hard he is sure there will be a bruise the next day as proof of this moment.

“I advise you to stop producing whatever sound it is you’re making right now if you like that particular part of his.” He orders, pinning a glare on the screaming banshee. What an excuse for a man.

The crying immediately stops and Logan nods, “Now you have two options since I’m feeling quite generous tonight.” He begins but his smile is anything but generous, it’s a cross between a sinister smile and a glare. The man shifts in his seat despite the ropes binding him tightly to the chair.

“You could either talk and I make it quick or…” He drawls, picking up a knife from the collection of sharps on a stool behind him. “You keep shut and make this fun for me.” A wicked grin appears on his face and he slides the knife down the man's arm, earning a trail of red and an ear splitting scream.

Logan pins the man with a glare and he immediately slams his lips shut, “Good.” He mutters, spinning the blade in his fingers. He throws a picture of Brocks on the man’s lap, “Now, are you going to talk or waste my fucking time!” He yells just as he launches the knife at the man.

“Please I know nothing.” The man tried to explain just before the knife buried itself in his right lower trunk, shutting him up. A loud cry escapes his lips and Logan pulls the knife out only to bury it in the left side.

A pool of blood drips down the man’s side and stains the white of the floor crimson. “What did I say about fucking crying?!” Logan questioned as he teases the man’s neck with yet another knife. The man goes, mute but the sweat dripping down his forehead, neck and back increases, the salt from his tears licking at the surface cut Logan had made on his neck.

“If you’re going to use your mouth, I advise you to use it to talk and nothing else.” He said, the threat in his eyes evident as he drags a chair to sit before the man.

“I’m listening.” He offers.

The man’s lips tremble before he rushes, “I swear. I know nothing. I don’t even know what you’re asking me. I don’t know this man.” He finishes, his eyes shifting from the picture on his laps to Logan’s bored eyes. Shit!

He isn’t going to talk. Logan runs the barrel of the gun down the man’s face, loving as the man’s expression changes from a defiant one to one of begging. This is a total waste of time, he thinks as the gun slides to the man’s temple. His body starts to tremble for the umpteenth time in the past hour and Logan finds it impossible to hide the grin that bursts on his face at the sight.

“Have I told you how much that reaction gives me the most joy?” He questions but doesn’t wait for an answer before a bullet rings in the air, a hole in the battered man’s head. The bullet clicks to the floor and Logan looks to the tiled floor to see the silver object now stained with blood and bits of brain substance.

He walks out of the room, choosing not to bother with cleaning up now. The air feels like pure bliss as it washes over him the moment he’s out of the door. He walks back into the pub, searching for the waitress from earlier.

He spots her blonde hair despite the dim lightning and approaches her.

“Want to make some real money tonight, follow me.” He whispers in her ear and smiles when he feels her presence behind him. He knows even without the money, she still would have from the way she was sizing him up earlier but he doesn’t like to leave loose ends. She will be paid so she knows it means nothing to him.

He turns the hand of the door he usually uses whenever he comes here and she follows closely behind. He shuts it as soon as she’s through it and pins her against the door. She gasps, a lovely sound that makes Logan’s blood heat. He reaches for her skirt and rips it open as he buries his head in her neck, laying feathery kisses as she grinds against him, both getting impatient.

He slides a finger in and another, “I need you.” She moans as he continues toying with her insides.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he tosses her on the bed and makes it a night she’d never forget.

*****************************

Logan grabs his jacket, his signature firearm and his wallet before exiting the small room. He takes a stroll down the road outside the pub to clear his head. He grabs a cigarette from his wallet and a lighter just beside it as he walks farther from the pub and everything it entails. He lights up the cigar and is soon puffing up smoke with each step he takes.

He catches a familiar figure in his peripheral vision and tilts his head at a wide angle to get a better view, not turning his head fully. He sees a familiar mane of short, purple hair and stops short. He turns fully to see someone he hasn’t seen in quite a while.The only person he knew who would rock such a daring color and still have the audacity to wear a skirt suit. Chanel. His ex.

He stared at her like he was seeing a ghost and from the look in her eyes, the fare of her nostrils and the widening of her eyes, she was shocked to see him too.