The RunAway Model

III. Hell Starts Here

"I didn't!" the woman said.

Richard's other hand grasped both ends of the scarf around her neck and pulled. "Richard, stop it."

His brother ignored him. "Did you do it for the money, Desiree?" Richard demanded from the woman. He pulled the scarf harder until she made a choking sound. "Yes, sweetheart, I know who you are. I know every fucking person around Jamaica. I know where you live and every person you care about."

Theo hid his surprise at his brother's words and approached him from behind, saying, "I've already taken care of it. Let her go."

Richard bent down until his face was a hairsbreadth away from the woman's and he whispered, "I will make sure that you pay for it, you bitch. I'll make sure you'll slowly die in my own hands." His hold on the scarf tightened at each word. The woman's face was red, her mouth open as she fought for air.

"Richard," Theo said. His eyes caught the woman's before she closed hers as consciousness left her. Theo reached for Richard and forcefully pulled his brother away. The woman gasped for air when Richard let go of the scarf. She fell forward on the chair and fought for more breath, her hands on the floor, supporting her weight. Richard brushed Theo's hand away from his arm and took two steps back to the woman and kicked her on the side until she came crushing against the wall.

"I'll kill her!" Richard shouted with rage as he landed another foot gutted her. Her body curled up in pain, the breath snatched out of her lungs. No sound escaped her throat but Theo could only imagine the pain she was going through. The veins on her forehead were visible as she waited for the pain to die.

"It won't do you any good," Theo told his brother before he rewarded the woman another kick. She started coughing in pain. A whimper escaped her mouth. "The police are already here."

That stopped Richard. He turned to Theo and demanded, "What? Who called them?"

Theo's eyes traveled to the woman on the floor for a second before he looked at his brother. "Someone else called them. That only means one thing."

"What?" Richard spat out.

"Someone saw something."

His brother turned to the woman once more, bent down and grabbed a handful of her hair. Her cry of pain was weaker than the last one, Theo noted. "It's her. I know it's her."

"You have to think straight, Richard. This is not just about Jamaica's death. This is about our whole fucking operation. So let her go and start thinking straight before we all land in jail. You can deal with her later."

Richard considered his statement but not without dragging the woman to the chair by her hair. She cried out, weakly stumbling on her feet as Richard brutally took her back to the chair she was sitting on minutes earlier.

Theo noted her breathing getting short, the blood on her lips and the way she was bending over her knee in pain. Her hands were trembling and her knees were clasped together. A broken moan of agony came from her as her shoulders shook with it. He forced himself to tear his eyes away from her and focus on his brother's uncontrollable anger.

"Since you are so fucking calm right now, you must have already planned something," Richard said, his eyes still coldly residing on Desiree.

"We can't just easily get the hell out of this place without any plans," Theo told him, blocking his brother's view of the woman to keep his attention. His hands were easily resting inside his pants' front pockets as he talked. "The police arrived sooner than expected—not that we expected anything like this to happen at all."

"It's because of that fucking woman—" Richard said, making a move toward the lady once more, but Theo had had enough.

"Touch her one more time and I'll make sure you're going to regret it," he warned.