17
Killian
A Week Later
“She’s gonna leave just as soon as your back’s turned. And she’ll tell the cops. She’s just that kinda girl – gotta abide by the law. Won’t even download pirated movies, our Vi - she’s a good girl so you know you ain’t gettin’ away with this unless you lock her up, too. Her conscience’ll drive her nuts. I know! Why don’t you just put her in here with me? We can keep one another company.”
Iadanza’s mouth splits into a wide smile, showing two tooth gaps, one on the upper right beside the canine, the other on the bottom left in the very front. I’ve got a mind to knock the rest of them out, too.
He chants this, not for the first time or even the tenth, while staring at the camera and like every other time he’s said it, he then starts pulling on his cock, taunting me with the fact he’s thinking about Violet while he does it. Talking about her body. About how pretty she looks when she comes.
It’s like he knows that now that Violet knows he’s down there I won’t chop that dick off for the transgression. But fuck am I tempted.
His face is healing. So are his wrists. He limps back and forth to his piss and shit bucket with the permanent knee damage in between jacking his meat and pleading for pain meds. Since shit went down last week, he now gets pain medication every day when Tony stops in.
I haven’t set foot in there since Violet left. He’s had Tony, who only hit him once the day after we left, and I saw it on camera so told Tony to only hit if necessary. After a couple days of ricotta and water chestnuts, I upgraded his food to frozen dinners done in the microwave and he’s got entertainment streaming, television projected on his wall. He gets three meal varieties with no cutlery, but he gets a box of cereal every other day and a couple pieces of fruit. He had the gall to request the TV dinner with the dessert in it with hysterical laughter. Yeah, Iadanza is looking healthier on the outside but he’s possibly more cracked than ever.
I haven’t tracked Violet much. Not that it hasn’t been an exercise in self-discipline to stop myself. I do look in when I wake up and see she’s at work and then again before I go to bed at night and see she’s at her grandfather’s.
She hasn’t called. She hasn’t sent a text. She hasn’t spent a dime from the joint account I fund or used the credit card I gave her. I have access to her bank account as she added me after we got back just like she said she would, and I’ve logged into them and seen she put gas in her car two days ago and yesterday she spent four hundred dollars at a department store – which is presumably for clothes since she hasn’t come back to get any. And there have been some coffee house purchases near her office as well as two trips to the supermarket.
As far as her office goes, I had the camera removed from behind her cubicle a couple days after she left. I watched the final bit of video footage before they went dead and saw her watching the guy who took them out. Her facial expression while she watched felt like a kick in the chest.
She knows they’re out.
I’ve given her space.
And with each passing day, I feel worse.
I sleep like garbage. I’m an asshole whenever I have to talk to any of my employees. I spend my days alone at home, logging in to read emails and making calls when I need to.
I’ve conversed with the cops a couple times.
Turns out Amber Buckley died of a drug overdose from a cocktail of Fentanyl-laced Xanax and a handful of other drugs that were all in her system. This same cocktail is responsible for killing two other people in Portland this week, one of them a nineteen-year-old college student, the other a fifty-year-old man.
The cops tell me they’re about to get a warrant to arrest Amber’s boyfriend, Felix Hoffman, who they want badly. Their investigation has been ongoing, aided by my intel and surveillance I got my hands on of him doing an actual drug deal with a little extra help from a friend connected to the Ferrano organization – or rather the organization they used to be – they’re running a lot cleaner these days now that Dario and Tommy are married. A trend among dangerous men I should pay attention to.
My buddy Dex, who also works for the Ferranos helped to connect a large quantity of laced Xanax directly to Hoffman, so he doesn’t just go down, he goes down extra hard. Yeah, he’s responsible for the bad drugs, though not in the quantity he’s about to get busted for. That quantity will ensure he gets put away for a long time.