Taming Seraphine

LEROI

It’s early evening by the time we arrive at the outskirts of Beaumont City. Seraphine slept for most of the journey, exhausted from a day of vigorous training. I’d meant to teach her a lesson, and it worked. After the training session, she didn’t think of demanding her usual reward.

The last vestiges of sunlight color the sky a vibrant shade of red, reminding me of the poker night bloodbath. I glance across the passenger seat and smile at my innocent little serial killer. She’s curled up with her feet on the seat, and her head is resting against the window.

She looks like an angel. A dark angel. A fallen angel. An avenging angel. My angel. I want to brush the coffee-colored strands off her face, but she’d cut through at my already fraying resistance.

I didn’t like the way she used Miko to make me jealous, even though it partially worked. I can’t deny that I have feelings for her, but there are reasons why she’s off-limits.

She’s exactly the kind of woman who knocks me off-kilter. Getting involved with her means losing control.

For one rage-fueled minute, I saw Miko as competition. I should never have agreed to training her with orgasms, but it’s too late to renege on our agreement.

After pulling in outside the warehouse, I turn off the engine, climb out, and walk around to open her door.

“Wake up.” I slide my fingers through her strawberry-scented hair.

Her eyes flutter open. “Are we there already?”

“Can you handle seeing Paolo Rochas so soon after the last one?”

All traces of sleepiness vanish, and her blue eyes sharpen into slits. She unbuckles her seatbelt and scoots out of the car and squares her shoulders. “Where is he?”

The walk through the abandoned building is silent, save for her furious breaths. In no time, we’re through the doorway of the room where I deposited Rochas.

My nostrils twitch at the mingled scents of urine, sweat, and ass. I step aside, letting Seraphine stride in. Rochas sleeps with his head resting on his chest, his features obscured by a mop of greasy black hair. Both the chair he’s slumped on and the floor beneath it are covered in a film of yellow liquid.

Seraphine rushes forward, but I grab her shoulder. “Wait.”

“What for?” she snarls.

I walk to the sink at the corner of the room, attach a hose to the tap, and spray both the floor and Rochas with cold water. The man wakes up with a noisy jerk and rocks backward in the chair bolted to the floor.

“What the fuck?” Rochas screams, his head jerking to the side.

“What is this place?” she asks.

“An interrogation room the firm uses from time to time.” I keep hold of her shoulder until the water turns clear and disappears into a grate built into the concrete floor.

“Who are you?” His voice becomes shrill.

“Now, can I go?”

I turn off the water. “Remember to ask about Gabriel and Samson.”

She rushes forward and punches him hard across the face. His head snaps back with a guttural yell. Her second punch makes his nose gush with blood.

I grin, my chest swelling with pride. She’s a fast learner. Her technique has improved since last night with Julio Catania.

“Who are you?” he growls.

“I’m the one asking the questions,” she snaps. “Where’s Gabriel Capello?”

“Who?”

I shake my head. It’s always the same with these assholes. They play stupid until you really deliver the pain. I open the cupboards beside the sink to remove a toolbox and a roll of knives.

“Seraphine.” I lay them on a worktop.

“Thanks.” She leaves Rochas and studies the implements. “Do you have anything that runs on electricity?”

My mind skips to the story she once told me about the hair dryer in the bathtub, and l lean into her and say, “You will not fuck up my circuits.”

She shakes her head. “It’s nothing like that. What do you have?”

With a sigh, I open up a second cupboard, extract the power tools, and place them on the counter. Seraphine reaches for the drill, but I grab her wrist.

“What are you planning?” I ask.

“He just needs some encouragement,” she replies with a dainty shrug.

“Do you even know how to use a power drill?”

She studies it for several moments before pressing on the trigger and activating its motor. “Yes, but where’s the thingy?”

“The drill bit?”

“Yeah, that.”

If his screams are any indication, Rochas can tell Seraphine has never used a power tool in her life and that she doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing. He rocks back and forth on his seat, trying to break free, but his effort is futile.

“What do you want to know?” he yells. “I’ll tell you. I’ll give you anything. Just call off that bitch and her drill.”

I attach a 1/16 inch drill bit to the device and hand it back to Seraphine.

Rochas hyperventilates at the sight of Seraphine holding the drill. “You’re not even giving me a chance to talk.”

“Then talk,” she says, her voice cold.

My breath quickens. Something about watching her take charge of another man is exhilarating. Maybe it’s her tiny stature, maybe it’s the knowledge that she’s snatching back her power, but I can’t take my eyes off Seraphine and her drill.

“What do you want to know first?” he rasps.

“Where’s Gabriel Capello?”

He swallows hard, his eyes on Seraphine. “Last time I saw him was five, six years ago when the boss told me to collect him from a girlfriend’s place.”

I nod. So far, this matches up with her version of events.

“Where did you take him?”

“An apartment somewhere in Queen’s Gardens.” He coughs. “That’s the last I heard of him, I swear.”

“Someone else must have been keeping an eye on Gabriel,” she says.

Rochas shakes his head from side to side. “If there was, then it’s nobody I know. We talked about that crazy scene for months after, wanting to know what happened next.”

My lip curls at the euphemism. A man ordering his guards to humiliate and gang rape the mother of his children is no ‘scene’, especially when Rochas was one of its eager participants.

“What does that mean?” she snaps.

He flinches. “N-nothing. The night me and Mike took Gabriel was… different.”

“Oh,” Seraphine asks. “How so?”

“Just a gang bang. The boss punished one of his mistresses for stepping out on him, and the boys all got a piece.”

Seraphine’s features twist into a rictus of rage at the understatement, and my stomach somersaults. I rush forward and grab her arm before she plunges the drill into his skull.

“Wait.” I pull her backward. “What can you tell me about Samson Capello’s location?”

“He’s dead,” Rochas says, his voice strangled.

“Catania told me you walked through the Capello house and identified the bodies.”

“Th-that’s right,” he says.

“Then you must have found one of the twins lying face-down.”

“I did.”

“Did you turn him over?” I ask.

He flinches. “What?”

“How did you know Samson was dead?”

Seraphine revs the drill’s motor, and the sound makes him flinch.

I lean into Rochas, my voice lowering. “You realize you’re not leaving this room alive?” He squeezes his eyes shut, and I continue. “Samson isn’t coming to save you and neither are your colleagues. You have a choice to die with a bullet through your brain or I’ll let my lovely little apprentice open up your skull with her drill.”

Rochas sobs, his face crumpling in resignation. “The dead guy was some distant cousin whose car wouldn’t start. He must have known Sam was staying the night somewhere else and used his bed.”

“Was that so hard? Now tell us where we can find him.”

“Last thing I heard, he left town and is hiding out until the man who killed his family is dead.” He swallows. “I swear to god. That’s all I know. Sam said he’d hired two firms to track down the killers, but⁠—”

“Which ones?”

“I don’t know!” he cries.

I step back. It doesn’t matter. One of them is the firm I inherited from Anton. The other firm will waste time looking for non-existent clues. All the vehicles I use are leased using counterfeit IDs and fake number plates. I haven’t been arrested for so much as a parking ticket, so any DNA evidence they find at the scene of the crime won’t get traced back to me.

“Alright,” I turn to Seraphine. “Your turn.”

Rochas glares at me, his eyes wide. “What about the bullet you promised me?”

“There’s one more loose end,” I say as I back toward the counter. “But I’ll let my little apprentice refresh your memory.”

Seraphine advances on Rochas, baring her teeth. What’s left of her self restraint melts away, leaving her eyes blazing with fury.

I lean back, fold my arms across my chest, and enjoy the show. No matter how aroused I get at the sight of her demolishing this man, no matter how much my cock aches for release, and no matter how much Seraphine begs me to stretch the limits of her reward, I’ll stay strong and not cross any more boundaries.