The Bertinelli Family's Revenge

Chapter 5. Jim-bob

Oliver's POV

We walk down the cold hallway leading us to the blood-covered rooms that we use for interrogations.

Grandpa walks in first followed by Dad then me. We walk in to see a man who has to be just a few years younger than Dad. His face and body look relatively fine but the visible blood on his body tells a different story. 

Grandpa walks to the man first bending down slightly to look in his eyes. He tilts his head stands up and goes towards the table of torture weapons.

Dad goes to the man next and starts to ask questions.

"Where are my daughters?" Dad asks in a deadly calm tone.

"What daughters?" The man cockly says, smirking a little. Dad takes his attitude to heart and pinches the man across the face. The man's face swells to the side and he spits out blood before facing Dad again with a bloody lip.

"Try again." Dad orders him. Behind him, just out of eyesight, Grandpa starts to sharpen a random knife.

The man ignores Dad and looks past him towards the wall.

"Fine. Who are you?" Dad asks him.

"Jim-bob." The man says. Dad only smiles and shakes his head looking down. 

"You must have been the teacher's favorite student."

"Don't want to toot my own horn." He smirks. Dad takes another chance to punch the man. 

"Who do you work for?" Dad tries to ask another question.

"Your mom." 'Jim-bob' is more agitated.

Dad sighs before shaking his head and walking away. I take that as my signal and walk over to the man. My suit jacket for the party has long been forgotten so I roll up my sleeves further.

"Oh, bringing in the big guns I see. Does the old man get tired?" 'Jim-bob' smirks seeing me do this.

"Well, I hate the questions the dry cleaners ask me when they see the blood," I said to him, I bent down slightly to see the damage Dad did more clearly. "Damn, the old man did a good job warming you up for me."

"I ain't into that."

"Good wouldn't want this to be enjoyable for you." I stand up straighter.

I throw a punch towards his nose hearing a small crunch. I take a chance to punch his eye. He turns with my punch. I punch the other side of his head. It's not quite as strong due to it being my nondominant hand but it still has a painful effect on him.

I take a break.

"You want to try answering the questions now?" I ask him like he is a preschooler in a higher pitch and nodding my head.

"Fuck you."

"I see you miss the point a lot." I take a second to gather my thoughts and look him over. I stop when I see something familiar.

A red, cartoon devil wearing a leather jacket and smoking tattoo.

'The Devil's Henchmen' tattoo. The henchmen are a middle-level gang that specializes in weapons trafficking. They're sloppy so they've never been able to be high on the food chain.

They are a relatively new gang so dad not realizing it makes sense.

"So what does The Devil's Henchmen have against us?" I ask him, tilting my head mockingly. Just because I know what gang he is from doesn't mean I know the motive.

From what I know we have never had a problem with the gang. Not even a business call. I only know about them since that's my job to know who could be a threat orally.

Also, the gang is two states over from us. So a random run-in is out of the question in my opinion.

Hearing my question I see Grandpa perk up and momentarily freeze in his knife sharpening. I honestly don't know how much sharper than a knife could get.

The man's eyes widened before shifting. He winced as he pulled on his stitches. I almost forgot about that.

"Cat got your tongue. Answer the question." 

"It's not a henchman's problem. We're just the workers."

"So who are you working for?"

He ignores me. I take another swing at him. He still doesn't say anything. I got to say his loyalty is admirable.

I loom towards Grandpa nodding my head toward his table. He takes a second looking through the table before grabbing something he brings it over to me with a knife still in hand. 

He rests the knife-wielding hand on the man's shoulder causing him to flinch at the sudden contact and the coolness of the knife. Grandpa hands me a Zippo lighter.

Smirking, I nod before focusing back on the man.

Flicking the lights on. 

"Last chance." The man stays silent but his eyes betray the fear coursing through. I shrug and run the flame along his arm circling the gang tattoo. 

He tries to hold in his screams but he fails. His screams fill the room giving me a slight headache. The walls in this room echo like crazy so his screams continue to ring even after he stops.

"Please." He whines.

"Talk." He shakes his head.

"I can't." I run the lighter over his other arm creating shapes as I go.

He screams again. I stop after making a wonky circle.

"Talk." He shakes his head.

"Son." I look behind me. Dad extends a cigar towards me to light. Where did he get that? I lit the cigar for him. I watch as I take a few puffs before turning toward the man. 

I take the lighter toward his skin hovering it above his shoulder. Juay enough to not burn him for him to feel the heat.

I let the flame touch when he refuses to answer. I move the lighter up and down creating a thick line. I run over the burned skin over and over until he begs me to stop.

I bring the lighter away. 

"You know if we talk this could all be over. This hurts me more than  in some aspects." I tell him nodding along with my words.

Grandpa has gotten over the knives and brought out his gun. He starts to load and u load the gun. Taking out the Bullers, putting them back in the clip. He puts the clip into the gun and cocks it into place before repairing this. 

Dsd stands behind me leaning against the wall smoking a cigar in the low light. 

"Ok."

"Good boy."

"His name was Devin Conrad. He paid us to crash your party and take the girls."

"Why?" I've never heard of Devin Conrad.

"He said that you guys owed him and this was the only way."

"How much?" I'm assuming a ransom call of some kind is coming.

"He said two million per girl we brought back. He was gonna pay us half." I nod. That's a lot of money. Up to 8 million dollars someone claims we owe them.

"How did you contact him when you got the girls?" 

"I don't know." I bring the light back up. "I swear my boss is supposed to contact him. They didn't tell me anything else." He shouts.

"Where are you holding the girls?"

"I don't know. We all got different tasks. I was supposed to grab one of the girls and put her in the van. There was someone else that was in charge of transporting them. They wanted it secretive in case one of us got captured." He explains.

I look towards Dad and he nods. We all leave Grandpa in the room and wait outside. We hear a single gunshot before Grandpa walks out putting his gun away.