The Beast’s Exception

4. Set Him Up

For the second time today, I have brains all over my body.

I didn't know whether I should've feel traumatized, or thankful that he had unknowingly avenged me.

I decided to leave my psychological disorder as pending, and ignore the facts all together.

Right now, all I wanted was a bath. I was still covered in blood, now covered in fresh flesh, I could smell myself, and well, the last thing I wanted to do was look in the mirror.

"Uh . . . Mr. Kidnaper? I would love it if I could take a shower. . ." I say, reluctantly following behind him.

"You know my name," he pauses, and I come to an abrupt halt, "use it."

"S-sorry." I rub my palms together nervously, averting my eyes the floor and he hums before continuing.

"I just have one more question, did you call to have my dogs fed?"

"I did." He replies and I nod in relief.

"Thank you," I tell him as he steps aside to make me walk first into the next room.

"You're being held hostage, don't thank me."

"Did Tye ask any questions?" I ask, walking warily into an empty room.

"She was suspicious at first," he admits, shutting the door behind us and I turn around to look at him, my handcuff hands resting on my thigh.

"But?"

"But I told her that you had a great night, and was knocked out next to me that's why you mumbled at me to call her." My mouth drops open at his insinuation and he folds his arms at me.

"Uh okay-"

"She told you to 'get it' by the way."

"Oh. . ." My neck burned as I couldn't reach to scratch it uncomfortably. I shift from foot to foot, filled with embarrassment.

He walks further into the room, retreating his hands into his pocket. He looks up towards the ceiling, and let's out a deep sigh.

"It's okay," I tell him gently, and he raises his head to look at me.

"Excuse me?"

"Its okay if you have to kill me, I've read enough novels to know what's going on."

"Oh yeah," Frankie steps closer to me, "what's going on?"

"You're a mafia leader, and well, I'm a witness. And even if you weren't a mafia leader, I'm still a witness. I'm a loose end, a liability that you cannot afford. All I ask is that you conjure up some type of lie to tell Tye to take care of Yamhead and Meat pie. And I promise to not come back to haunt you."

"Are you trying to be funny?"

"Frankie, do you see any amusement on my face? No, all you see is three different people's brains,"

"So, your last wish is that I have your dogs named Yamhead and Meat pie take care of."

"Yes please," I nod.

"Just that and you'll be okay with dying."

"Yes," I reply and he tilts his head.

"Okay," he lifts the gun from his side, and I hadn't even seen it. I shut my eyes, bracing myself for impact. My hands felt cold and numb although blood was pulsing rapidly through my body. My heart rate was through the roof, my mouth dry.

I felt like I could already see stars, like I was already dying. I try to steady my breath by taken deeper ones, but every second that passed by made it harder.

What seemed to be two minutes passed by before I peeked one eye open. Frankie had placed his gun away, and was now staring at me. Confused, I stare back at him.

"Strange," he muttered before taking a breath, "anyway, I'm not going to kill you, yet."

"What? Why?"

"Get cleaned up, fed, and then we'll have a discussion." He reopens the door for me, and I hesitantly pass near him, afraid that he would just empty the bullet in the back of my head.

"I also apologize for one of my men's neglect. I didn't order any of them to touch you that way. I hope you feel better now."

I knew Frankie was talking about killing that man, but I could wrap my head around it, it all felt surreal.

"Nevada will help you." I hadn't even noticed the young woman standing near the door.

"Follow me," she nods towards upstairs, and I was about to walk away when a warm hard clasps against my arm.

"Here," Frankie removes his hand to remove the handcuffs and I resist the urge to cry in relief, "you don't want them back on, so don't do anything stupid."

He turns around to leave before I could give an answer, and I turn back to Nevada. She ushers me upstairs and I follow. She leads me into a much better room than the one I was in last night.

"This is your room for your time here, the bathroom is through that door," she points to a blue door near the white walls.

"Your closet, your work desk and obviously your bed," she points to everything, "Mr. Garcia wants you downstairs as soon as you're done, so you should start getting ready."

She takes a towel from one of the drawers and hands it over to me.

"Thank you," she nods.

"I will be here waiting for you."

"That's not necessary -"

"This is what Mr. Garcia and Radar asked me to do. It has to be done."

She took a gentle sit on the office chair, neatly folding her dress under her legs. Nevada had fiery auburn hair, pretty light green eyes and healthy skin. Her lips and nose were pretty small, clear white skin without a blemish in sight. She was so beautiful, but she acted as if she was a robot.

I didn't question her, instead I eagerly went into the shower, not caring if it was warm enough, and washed everything off me.

Everything dawned on me once the piece of flesh pounded on the bathroom floor as I rinsed it off.

I gag, willing myself to keep my eyes lifted.

The dried blood required a lot more scrubbing, and I silently pleaded with myself not to cry.

I thought about Maggie, Era and Sarah who were all dead. I quietly wondered where their bodies were, I wondered what their families were thinking . . .

They were just . . . Gunned down in front of me.

Disgust crawled all over my skin as I washed it clean.

It took me about twenty minutes before Nevada knocked on the bathroom door.

"Ms? You need to hurry up."

I turned off the shower at her words, and wrap myself in the towel.

I unlocked the door to reveal myself, and she avoids my eye. I noticed she had laid out an outfit for me, as if I was a child and I silently walk over to it.

"It's all new clothing," she informs, "they're tooth brushes in —"

"Damn, can I breathe?" I snap, and she raises an eyebrow.

She folds her arm, "I'll be outside of the door. You have five minutes."

She slams the door behind her and I roll my eyes.

"Bitch."

The outfit she chose was simple. Just normal sweat pants and a t-shirt..they would be a little baggy, but I was happy for that since the mansion was crawling with men.

I put them on quickly, unsure of what to do with my hair. I had rinsed it off, and it was currently in the process of shrinking from the high puff it was, to a shrub.

I dried it off last, still noticing small chunks in it, and I immediately felt a wave of sadness hit me.

Nevertheless I brush my teeth, and walk back out into the halls just as soon as Nevada seemed to be heading back in.

She huffs, patting off invisible dust from her skirt. She leads me downstairs again, and this time all of the men were seated at a table. Frankie sat at the head of it, his hand under his chin. He seemed completely nonchalant, while the rest of his men were in hysterics, but quietly.

They didn't cuss, or get loud with him, almost as if they were afraid to. He comanded so much respect, but I don't blame them, he just laid a man flat out on the floor without so much as a word. And right now the spot was clean as if nothing had happened. Just like that, he erased a life from existence.

"Mr. Garcia, she's ready," Nevada introduces me, and everyone stopped to stare at me.

"Great," Frankie nods, "leave," he tells his men.

"But, boss, we weren't done–"

"Radar, I said what needed to be said, I've made up my mind." Frankie says calmly, and I eyed Radar, noticing that Nevada had mentioned him also. He nods, although obviously conflicted, and leads the men out of the room.

"Sit." He demands, and I noticed that Nevada had disappeared. I walk slowly towards any on the chairs, rubbing my sore wrists and he shifts a in his chair to get a little more comfortable.

"You should be dead, just like the rest of your friends," he begins, "but, you could he useful."

"Useful? How?" I raise an eyebrow.

"You could help me lure Atulo, he knows you."

"Frankie, like I said before, I barely know Atulo," I remind him, "he comes to work and doesn't even utter a word, he works in complete silence, and leaves the same way once he's done for the day."

"Be that may, he's seen you before, he knows you've worked where he has before, and therefore, you're familiar to him. He won't sprint away when he sees you."

"We have eyes on him," Frankie continues, "but he's smart. If he suspects even the smallest thing, he doesn't take any chances, what's worse is he's taken protection under the police. I'm not sure what deal he's taken, but there's no doubt that they're looking over him."

I take a second to absorb all of the information, "so what do you need me to do? Because I won't kill him, and I would hate it if what you're asking me to do is trap him so he could get killed."

"I'd never ask you to do that," Frankie says, "all you need to do, is lure him to a given place, and we'll take care of the rest."

"So you want me to set him up?"

"Basically."

"Frankie, I really just don't see how Atulo would follow me anywhere, I'm practically a stranger to him."

"Don't worry, we've already planned it all."