Page 8 of Jake

Satisfied, for now, we returned to our seats. Don Bonello sat beside me as before. I smiled as I heard Father reasoning with Mother and was relieved when she finally agreed to remain on the plane.

Relaxing back in the seat, I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer for my brother, hoping it would be answered.

CHAPTER TWO

JAKE

Present time

It had been a long night of darkness so complete I hadn’t been to able see a fucking thing. Not even momentary sleep had given me any escape from the deadly situation.

Despite wriggling and pulling against the cuffs that held me prisoner, all I’d succeeded in doing was rubbing my wrists raw. I felt the warmth of blood as it trickled down my arms.

I startled when the room was suddenly alive with light, and watched as White Suit, along with Goon One and Goon Two, stalked towards me. The time had come for me to meet my maker.

“I trust you slept well?”

I ignored White Suit’s question, which earned me a fist to the face.

“Answer Don Russo when he asks you a question, arsehole.”

White Suit leaned forward, his face in mine as he spoke. “Who do you do business with here in Rabaul?”

I laughed. He had to be insane if he thought I’d give him that information. Ignoring him again, and spitting in his face, earned me another sharp fist, this time from Goon Two. I heard my cheekbone pop as it broke. I shouted out in pain despite not wanting them to see me as being weak.

“Leave him. It’s obvious he won’t speak, and we’re running out of time.”

White Suit crossed to a bench holding wicked-looking instruments of torture, some of which he appeared to find fascinating. It took him a few moments to decide on a baton with numerous metal spikes of varying lengths. His smile was that of a deranged man as he approached, running his fingers up and down the smooth end of the weapon.

I was not going to like what happened next, and it took mere seconds to confirm I was right.

White Suit drew his arm back, and I was hit with force, the spikes lodging in my belly. I screamed out in agony. He had to use force, and twist the weapon, to wrench the spikes from my skin. The action caused excruciating pain.

He paced back and forth, caressing the handle. I noted the blood and pieces of flesh attached to the implement as he did so.

“Make it your first priority to tell Don Masterton, that this is MY territory, and if he dares to trespass again, the next time we cross paths, he will die. Hopefully, you will survive long enough to deliver our message.”

“FUCK. OFF.”

My smart mouth earned me another hard strike, this time catching my dick. If I’d believed in the man above, I would have prayed for him to show mercy and ensure my death came quick. My plea was not to be answered. Over the next, however long, I was beaten with the baton, flogged with leather straps, electrocuted with a stun baton, punched, and kicked. I lost count of the number of snaps and pops I heard as bones likely broke. I heard footsteps as more men entered the basement, but with my eyes swollen shut, I was unable to see who they were.

Passing out gave me no relief, as each time, I was revived with powerful smelling salts so the beating could continue.

“Don Russo…”

The voice that permeated the mist of pain I was in was familiar, but with not being able to see, I was unable to verify his identity.

“Yes?”

“Don Masterton’s aircraft is going to be landing at the Nobilumo Strip in fifteen minutes.”

“Take him down, it’s time we delivered our message.”

Through the fog of pain, I was aware of arms holding me while the cuffs were released. Being carried from the room was the last thing I recalled before a strange kind of peace engulfed me, sweeping me into blessed darkness.

CHAPTER THREE

CONNOR