Fear the BossBy: Sam Crescent
Caleb Cassell wiped his bloody hands on the cloth one of his men handed to him. The sound of screams filled the abandoned warehouse he owned. Once his hands were free of blood he grabbed his cell phone to see if there were any calls waiting for him. Seeing three from the women he kept on a regular basis for sex, he deleted them all, turning back to see if his right hand man and partner, Henry, had gotten the information he needed.
“Please, make it stop,” John, the man bound to the chair, said, whimpering.
Folding his arms, Caleb was bored. Why did little shits really think they could mess with him? At thirty-five years old he’d proven to all of the rival gangs that he wasn’t to be messed with. He owned girls, drugs, and money. Over the years he’d proven more than once that he wasn’t afraid of killing his enemies, or at the least torturing them first. Caleb kept a firm hold on everything, making sure no one fucked with him. He wasn’t a cruel man to people who followed the rules, and he was fair to everyone who was honest with him. Those people who broke the rules and tested him, were then hurt. Caleb did warn all of them before he hired anyone.
The front of all of his businesses was his nightclubs. No one looked too closely unless someone died on his property from the drugs taken. Most of the time, Caleb got men to dump the body elsewhere. He’d grown up on the streets and knew how the people worked. When there was an economic downturn people sought him out for money, work, or drugs to forget all about the world.
“Where is the money from the drugs, John? I’m not in the mood for your shit,” Caleb said, still feeling bored.
John whimpered, crying out as Henry grabbed his hair, yanking his head back.
Blood dripped from John’s lip, head, and nose. His face was black and blue from his and Henry’s punishments. Caleb was bored. He hated dealing with addicts, and from the track marks on John’s arms, the man was a fucking user.
Not only had he used product that Caleb intended to sell, he’d taken money by also dealing the shit within his club.
“Please, I’m sorry. I’ll make it back, boss,” John said, wheezing.
It would be more work to take John to the hospital, and then if he squealed to the cops, the work and payoff would be too much money.
“No, you won’t make it back. There’s nothing you can do.” Caleb turned to look at Henry. “Kill him and dispose of the body. I’m done with this piece of shit.”
John started to scream and whimper before Caleb had even left the building.
Spinning on his heel, he walked outside as the bullet rang out. Pulling out the packet of cigarettes, he took out a smoke and lit it. Inhaling the nicotine he stared up at the night sky contemplating which bitch he was going to take for the night. Providing he had a lot of money, any woman came to his need. He was never short of a whore to put his dick inside. All women were whores; it’s what he was taught on the streets. He had yet to meet a woman who was worth more than a passing glance. Sure, the women he dated were beautiful, but they’d been with a lot of men, making them a little too bitter to the world.
Henry walked out, talking on the phone as he went.
“The disposal team?” Caleb asked once Henry hung up.
“Yeah, we’ve got to wait for them to arrive. You got a couple of grand on you to pay them?”
Nodding, Caleb went to the trunk of the car. Flicking the lock, he opened it up and peeled away the carpet to reveal the small safe he kept hidden. “I’ve got plenty of cash.”
Henry lit up a smoke and leaned against the car. “He pissed himself again.”
“Fucker knew he’d done wrong. I’d be more surprised if he didn’t.” Blowing out a ring, Caleb listened to the passing city life. He loved living in the city. There were so many people waiting to plunge down that slippery spiral of life.
“What are you doing for the rest of the night? Henry asked.
Caleb had met Henry over ten years ago. They’d been fighting for the same side in the underground fighting ring. Both of them were vicious and had been trained by the same man. After a year of playing the circuit they had both gone out to make a living for themselves. Now, they were a team, but most of the business was down to Caleb. Henry had a large scar down the side of his face from a fight gone wrong. His face put off prospective business partners. They learned long ago that Caleb handled the business while Henry was the muscle. When it was between them, they were friends. Caleb would die to save Henry, and he knew the other man was the same.
Their friendship was the only thing Caleb actually cared about. The money just made life easier, and fucking was fun while it lasted. His friendship with Henry was cemented. They were a team.