Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
I step to him, my leather boots shining bright in the light of the crystal chandelier. Looking down at the pathetic man at my feet, I breathe a sigh of relief. This is not worse than I expected, perhaps accelerated, but not exactly a surprise.
Removing the deed from the inside of my suit jacket, I drop it on his huddled frame. He curls into a fetal position without looking at it.
“Correction, dear brother. This is my house. Wainscott Hollow was in bank foreclosure and Dad wouldn’t have wanted that, so I did us all a favor and rescued the estate before they evicted you and tossed all of Dad’s treasures into the dump. You’re welcome.”
“Bullshit,” he spits from the filthy floor. “A loser like you could never afford a down payment on a place like Wainscott Hollow. Besides, the county covenant says no new buyers, only established family names can purchase property in Montauk.”
“Oh, but I can, and I did. Did you forget I’m legally a Shaw, dear brother? Had my name changed legally right after I moved out. I am family and enjoy the privileges Dad intended for me when he adopted me.”
“Doesn’t matter. She’ll never want you. You’re just like me now, someone she can’t stand.”
Not many threats or insults can make my blood run cold, make the hair on my arm and the back of my neck stand at attention, but anything about Kat elicits this kind of response.
Removing my suit jacket, I place it on the staircase railing and proceed to roll up my shirt sleeves. Something about a suit jacket makes people believe you’re not capable of beating the shit out of them. Perhaps that’s why so many in organized crime wear them. An illusion of a professional upstanding citizen, when reality dictates we are capable of the most debase crimes, chopping off fingers or ears without so much as a blink of an eye.
“You know, Henry, I’ve got so many years of payback to dish out. I think it’s only fair to draw out the torture, don’t you? I don’t want to kill you. What would be the point of that?”
Henry waves me away with his hand. The high proportion of gin in bloodstream, together with his tendency toward deluded self-aggrandizing, still affords him a decent amount of misguided courage. In other words, Henry isn’t scared of me, but he hasn’t met the new, improved Heath.
“I’d like to see you suffer, to realize how insignificant you are. Your misguided delusions of importance are over, Henry Shaw. You are broke. Broken. And unfortunately, dependent on me for your future wellbeing.”
I step on his hand gracefully, pushing my shiny Italian leather boots down until the snap, crackle, and pop of his bones crushing under my foot give rise to garbled screams as Henry vomits on himself. I grind my foot with a little wiggle like I’m putting out a discarded smoke, pulverizing the bone shards and making his hand unusable for the rest of his life. He needs to be humbled, put in his place.
“Shame Dad spent so much on piano lessons. Guess you won’t be signing any more papers, Henry, probate or not. But not to worry. I can take over and become the man of the house. You’re in no shape, anyway.” I tsk and shake my head as I tell him, “I’ve looked into some fantastic in-patient psychiatric programs that seem right up your alley. Lock-down, but you’ll get used to it.”
“Kat would never let you throw me out. She’ll stop you.”
“It’s funny the things we tell ourselves in moments of duress. If you believe for a single, solitary second that Kat will come to your rescue, then you, my poor brother, are sicker than I thought.”
Henry’s eyes go wide and his bottom lip quivers as his gaze moves to the hunting knife I pull from the holster. He cradles his mangled hand. Bending down to his crippled form, I press the blade gently to the corner of his eye. “I don’t think Kat will do much. Probably still recovering from last night, when she watched helplessly as I fucked her dear, devoted husband Eddie up the ass with the handle of this very blade.”
I press into the blade gently, the tip quickly splitting the thin skin at the corner of his eye, not enough to do serious damage, but enough to leave a reminder, a pretty little nick in his skin.
“I’m pretty confident she won’t give a shit about you, Henry. Kat’s dealing with her own issues. Seems you let her marry one of your prick friends with a proclivity for taking women against their will. Not only that, but the douche puts his hands on her. Did you know that about Eddie? Seems you would since you were all so tight back in the day. I mean, you can’t miss all those bruises, even in your drunken state.”