Sicko(55)
Not likely, you fucking cunt.
“You will all be released from your room, with the equipment you need to make your way back to civilization. I’m sure you will admire my technique one day.” He leaned forward, and his necklace caught my eye. “All three of you will go home, and you will each find a folder on your bed. In that folder will be the reason why you’re going to listen to me. You were all set to go to college. You’re leaving earlier. You are to be out of your homes no later than midnight tonight. If you try to tell anyone. Your friend. Girlfriend. Parent. Aunt. I will gut them, turn their organs into clothing, and sell them on Etsy.” He paused, and we all waited.
He was fucking crazy, but there was an air of fear that his words left in the room well after he spoke them. A threat that didn’t need weapons.
“If you do not leave—” Here it was. The big I’ll kill you. “Your sister Jade Olivia Kane—” The blood drained from my veins and if I wasn’t physically a completely healthy man, I’d bleed out on the ground from the mere whisper of her name from his lips. “Will become mine. When I say mine, I mean you would wish that I had just killed her by the time I was done. I would haunt your every single step with her, hang her in front of you like my ragdoll, tearing her at the seams and never stitching her back up, and if you think I don’t have that kind of power, I urge you to go home, check out the folder, open up your little laptops or phones, and simply type in the words K Diamond.”
My jaw tensed and everything inside of my body burned.
He relaxed back into his chair. “I trust you will make the right choice, gentlemen, and when you’re settled into your life, I will be back, and if I’m not, that means that one of you fucked up along the way and my arrival, will not be one that you will like.” The ceiling opened up and knives fell onto our laps. “You are dismissed.”
We paused, watching the TV after the video had long since cut out. It took us a while to wriggle around and cut ourselves loose, but once our hands were done, everything else fell away.
“What the fuck was that?” I snapped, glaring at both Orson and Storm.
Orson shook his head. “I don’t know, bro. I don’t like it.”
Heading toward the door, I pulled it open and stepped out onto the deck, confused. “We’re on a yacht.”
“What?” Storm stepped out from behind me with Orson on his tail. The door slammed closed behind him and when I reached back for it, it remained locked.
“Fuck.” Quickly making our way through the power yacht, we jogged up the stairs that lead to the main cabin and I paused, seeing the ocean on one side and the shoreline hundreds of meters away on the other.
“What the fuck is going on?” Orson’s confusion only annoyed me. None of us know.
“We have to listen to him.” I knew he was rich, but this yacht was something that only people like our families could afford. This wasn’t a little fucking toy. This was a damn multi-million-dollar machine.
“Why?” Orson said. “He could be bluffing.”
I found three surfboards lined at the back, standing upright with our names written on pieces of paper and slapped on them with a thick load of sex wax. “Because I’m not willing to bet on Jade.”
Orson silenced.
Storm reached for his board. “I’m with Royce.”
“I didn’t mean it like that—” Orson attempted to clarify. “You’re right. We’ll figure this shit out back on shore.”
All three of us grabbed our boards, dove into the ice-cold water at the still of the night, and awaited the first wave to come up so we could catch it and ride all the way to the shoreline.
When I got home, I wish I could say he was bluffing.
“What’s happening?” Storm asks, closing my front door behind himself as he enters. “Man, can you light a fire or something? It’s cold in here.”
“Because Duchess has been here, that’s why.” I watch him move into my sitting room where he falls down onto the single lounge chair, his hair ruffled from his flight.
“Are you going to explain why you called this meeting? I was in the middle of something important.” Storm had always been the level-headed one out of us all. The one who used his brain more than he used his mouth. It was helpful. Real fucking helpful. Especially when you have Orson and me in a group of three. But over the years, Storm has opened up a whole fucking lot. I shouldn’t blame that on his wife and him becoming a dad so young, but I know it does have something to do with that. He knocked up the first bitch he found straight after we left and although he’s one of the wealthiest computer software engineers in the United States of America and runs the most exclusive computer science business on the side, I can’t help but resent her a whole fucking lot.
Mainly because she’s a gold-digging bitch.
“I’ll wait until O gets here,” I say, pointing to the corner where all the liquor is housed. A few minutes later, Orson is walking through the door, dragging his suitcase behind him.
“Yo, I had to catch the fucking red-eye last night just to make it on time. This better be important,” he grunts, shutting the door.
I pour him a glass of scotch and hand it to him, removing my vest and placing it on the sofa. When I’m with the three of them, the cut comes off. My club will always come first, but not when it comes to this.