A Debt Owed(43)

“I promise you, you’ll be safe from now on. I will never hire people that incompetent again.”

That’s a bold statement. “How do you know it won’t happen again?” I ask.

“Well …” He clears his throat. “For starters, I’m going replace most of my staff with women. With the exception of a few men, such as Nick, who’s been a tremendous help to me all these years. But he won’t ever bother you, I can promise you that.”

“Right …” I mutter, narrowing my eyes. “What did you do to the other guy?”

“You don’t need to worry about them.” He smiles, but it makes an icy chill run down my spine. From the way he’s gazing at me, I’m pretty sure he killed the other one too … after torturing him for hours on end.

I swallow.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

He hasn’t shown any interest in my well-being since I’ve been here, so why now? He’s been nothing but a tormentor, yet every so often, he looks at me with completely different eyes. It’s as though he can’t make up his mind about what to do with me and what to think of me.

“I’m fine,” I reply with a shrug. “For as far as that’s possible, being a captive and all.”

“Good,” he says, ignoring the second half of my statement. “I want you to feel safe in this house.”

I shouldn’t ever feel safe around him … but strangely, I do. He shot that guy for me. Any threat to me is a threat to him, which makes him the safest person in the world to be around.

Yet the violence still makes me cringe.

“You shot him,” I say.

“Yes, so?” he replies. “I did it to save you.”

It’s like he’s trying to use the situation to flatter me. “You did it to save your property,” I retort.

He cocks his head. “That hurts, but I guess I deserve it.” He clears his throat. “At least you’re safe and alive, and that’s all that matters.”

I frown. “When did you …?”

“What? Learn to shoot?” he fills in for me.

“It looked like you’d done it before,” I say.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t,” he answers.

Well, that’s a truth, for once. His eyes boring into mine say it all.

“I took some shooting lessons when I was still a youngster,” he explains.

I narrow my eyes. That can’t be all of it. You don’t roll into killing someone that easily. “But you have killed someone before.”

He taps his fingers together and sighs out loud. “Perhaps …”

“Tell me,” I say.

He licks his top lip, and says, “It’s not that easy.”

“Yes, it is.” I want to know what makes him tick.

He sighs again. “I … had to build my clubs from the ground up. That required some sacrifices.”

“For other people, you mean,” I say.

He bites his lip. I’m testing his limits, and we both know it. “If you want to put it that way, yes.”

I grimace. “You killed people for financial gain?”

“I killed them because they deserved to die. Most of them were greedy bastards who only cared about money to invest in their golden toilets and sports cars. After they invested in my clubs, I told them I wanted to give forty percent of the profits to charity, and they all turned up their noses and laughed at me. They even declared me a fool.”

Forty percent? Wow. He didn’t tell me this. I’m impressed … and confused by my own reaction. He just admitted to killing people to advance his business, yet I’m not even mad.

“Most of them were coke addicted whore-bangers whose sole purpose in life was sucking out the soul of other people. I’m not sorry I killed them.”

My eyes widen. “All of them? All of your investors?”

“No, just the ones who were too greedy,” he says, leaning back into his chair. “But it was convenient. I could use their money without having to give them anything in return.” A wicked grin spreads on his lips. “Except death …”

My stomach twists. “Why does it all sound so easy when you say it? You talk about death as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.”

“It is when you’ve seen it as many times as I have,” he says, tilting his head down. “Close up, it looks like their glazed eyes are wide open as if their souls are stuck between here and the nether.”

“You’re sick,” I say.

“I didn’t choose to be this way, Charlotte,” he says.

“Yes, you did. You could’ve let them live,” I say.

“Bad things happen to bad people,” he explains. “Or would you have wanted me to let that man who tried to use you live as well?” He raises a brow.

I swallow away the lump in my throat. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that man dead. But I couldn’t stomach the thought, let alone do it myself.

“Admit it,” he says. “You’re secretly grateful that I took care of him. It puts your mind at ease doesn’t it?”

Why does he read me with such ease?

“I do the dirty work other people don’t want to do. Only hard work gets you where you want to be. If that means killing a few people, then so be it.”