REVENGE WITH LOVE : CHAPTER 11 – 20

REVENGE WITH LOVE : CHAPTER 11 – 20

By Presh Alicia Daisy.

CHAPTER 11 & 12

THE SAME BUT DIFFERENT

The hospital room smelled of saline drips and spirits — a smell that Kracus didn’t mind as a doctor but after perceiving it for the past three days as a patient, he came to the conclusion that he hated it. He asked to be brought here because it would be easier to conceal the attack and keep it from getting out to the public, if he was treated here where he worked

He lost a lot of blood but luckily, Clinton’s blood–type matched with his and he willingly donated to his boss. Overall, Kracus has spent three days at the hospital receiving treatments and stitches on his wounds. He’d been given medications and now both his thighs and around his left hand had bandages wrapped around them.

The brighter side was that he would be getting discharged soon — Granted, he worked in the hospital to treat people but that doesn’t mean he enjoyed being the one treated.

The door opened and Nurse Rachel came in, wheeling Harvey into the room. Kracus’ lips spread into a welcoming smile. The boy was holding flowers as well and had the brightest grin on his face too.

“Sorry to disturb you Doctor Kracus, but Harvey was on his way back from chemo and wouldn’t stop pestering me to let him see you.” Rachel stated but Kracus didn’t mind, he was more than happy to see Harvey. The four-year-old was diagnosed of leukemia. He was also one of the children benefiting from his charity organization where he fully sponsored the treatment of little kids with cancer.

Harvey was fond of Doctor Kracus, as well as every other child that was in his charity program. He’s a good kid. Kracus was particularly interested in Harvey and showed him special attention because the little boy was the youngest child with cancer here.

“How are you doing today, Harvey?” Kracus asked gently. He was truly excited to see the boy and from what he heard from the doctors, he was responding really well to treatments and hopefully, it stays that way.

“I’m fine Doctor Kracus.” He answered with enthusiasm that brought joy to Kracus’ heart. “I heard you were sick so I brought you flowers.” He stretched out the flowers to Kracus who reached out his arm and took the flowers.

“Thank you so much, Harvey. I’ll make sure to keep this safe. They mean so much to me.” Kracus assured the little boy and he nodded with a cherry smile.

Kracus wasn’t bluffing about keeping it safe, he turned to face Clinton who had been with him in the room since early this morning. “Clinton, take these.” Clinton’s attention was previously glued to some magazine, he dropped it and came over to Kracus’ bed and collected the flowers.

“Buy a vase today and put these flowers in there. You and I are reszponsible for watering these flowers. If they die, you’ll be fired.” Kracus instructed playfully which made all three of them laugh — although he wasn’t joking about the part about keeping those flowers alive and healthy.

“Since my job is on the line, I’ll make sure these flowers live forever.” Clinton directed to the bald, little boy who giggled in response.

“Thank you Harvey. Keep doing well. You make me so proud.” Kracus encouraged, touching the boy’s chubby cheek. Harvey’s goofy grin spread wider, showing off his two missing teeth.

“Alright Harvey, we have to leave Doctor Kracus to get his rest now. Say goodbye to him,” Nurse Rachel said and Harvey waved bye. Kracus returned the wave with one of his own, before the nurse wheeled the boy out of the room and the door closed behind him.

“Well, we may be running out of places to keep vases soon, sir. Harvey is the tenth child to give you flowers since you were admitted. And let’s not talk about the array of flowers and get–well cards that hundreds of nurses have brought in.”

“Fourteen. Fourteen nurses.” Kracus corrected with a chuckle and leaned back onto his pillow, he emitted a pained grunt at the strained movement of his healing muscles.

“Same difference, sir. Fourteen is way too much.” Clinton instated, which made Kracus snicker. “I know you hate being the patient, boss, but fortunately, you’ll soon be discharged.”

“I think you hate being on that chair more than I hate lying down on this bed. You’ve been as grumpy as I am these past few days.”

“It just gets on my nerves. You know, what happened. I should have taken Bose seriously when he said he had a hunch that we were being tailed. I should have known that danger was looming, dammit.” The big guy’s eyes darkened, “That slim-ass, red-headed bitch. I’m going to kill her if I ever get my hands on her.”

Kracus said nothing to that. His personal bodyguards have been beating themselves up since it happened. Bose, especially. Kracus had spent the first twenty four hours after the attack listening to Bose’s angry tirades and the very graphic details the man went into about how he would kill the attacker if he ever uncovered who the hell she was. Which was exactly what Bose had gone out to do for the past forty-eight hours.

REVENGE WITH LOVE : CHAPTER 11 – 20

Till now, Kracus still haven’t figured out why the woman had attacked him. Granted, he had a few enemies who had come after him over the years, but none of them were as skilled as she was. Her face has been a constant thing in his memory since he awoke up the next morning, attached to drips and painkillers.

He remembered her striking hair, her poise and the way she seemed so elegant yet dangerously lethal. A woman that handled knives and weapons with peak proficiency.

The way she moved so swiftly with agility and dexterity was memorized and etched to his mind, it would occasionally replay over and over and then he would wonder how a woman could amass such a skills? He’d never seen a person throw knives like that before. A highly-skilled assassin.

A very beautiful, highly-skilled assassin.

He’d seem a lot of beautiful women in his life, but only a few of them were as remarkable as hers. Her features were impeccable; her lashes were long ad lush, and those brown eyes… Those luminous brown eyes which held menace and a clear intent to kill him. He saw a tattoo on her arm, written in a different language, and he would bet that that wasn’t the only tattoo his assassin had.

He was intrigued by a strange woman who nearly ended his life. It’s funny, really.

“Boss, do you think Mira was the one who sent that woman to assassinate you?” Clinton reasoned out loud and that snapped Kracus out of his thoughts.

He accessed what Clinton had suspected, and it didn’t take time for him to dismiss it. Mira might be a viper, but even he knows she wasn’t capable of doing such.

Mira Coleman, his ex girlfriend—crazy ex–girlfriend, if he was to quote his younger sister, Valerie—was obsessed with him but she wouldn’t want him dead. They’d dated for a year and half, the longest he had ever gone with any woman, but he had to end things with her when her toxicity had gotten out of control.

Kracus had no idea when what they shared grew from love to obsession, on her part but that was what it became on the long run. Mira was crazy, but not crazy enough to send an assassin to murder him. He shook his head, “I don’t think she’ll do that. We’ve broken up for over a year and she’s still in France, the last time I checked.”

Clinton hummed an unsure answer. If it wasn’t Mira, then who was it?

“Well, did her face seem familiar? Have you seen her before, boss?” Clinton questioned.

A hint of a smile played at the edge of Kracus’ lips, “Clinton, if I have encountered a woman like that before, I would definitely remember.” A woman like that would be a hard one to forget.

“Well, what about Walters? I knew the man’s quietness had been a flux. What if he’d laid low all these while because he had something like this planned? It makes perfect sense, that rat bastard. I’m going to kill him.”

But Kracus also doubted that Walters was behind the attack. He had memorized the sinister look in her eyes that night and that expression was way too raw and strong to have been conceived because she was hired to kill someone. That attack seemed more personal..

But why?
This question have troubled him these past few days.

Before Kracus could give Clinton an answer, the door opened and a man stood at the door. It was Jonathan Anderson, the Manager of one of the Kingston Hotels. He was dressed in black crisp suit and a white inner, with a in his hand. Clinton figured the man was here for business.

“Good Afternoon, sir. Can I come in?” He asked uncertainly.

“I really don’t think you should, Mr Anderson. As you can see the boss is—” Clinton began, but Kracus cut him off. “It’s okay.” To the manager, he said, “You can come in, Anderson.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m really sorry to bother you but HJT Airlines has sent in a business proposal for the partnership. You told me to update you if there was ever news from them.” Jonathan took an empty seat beside the bed and went into details about the proposal.

Clinton sat there, glaring at the man. There are others in the organization the manager could have gone to for this, people like Alex Graham, the new CEO. Couldn’t he see that the boss was sick?

“You have done a great job, Anderson.” Kracus said at last, after listening attentively to the man’s narration.

“Thank you, sir. I figured I should report to you before I sent the report to Graham, because I know you’re very much interested in this deal. Besides, Graham might be in office, but you’re still the big boss, sir.” He deadpanned.

Kracus snorted, “You can’t go around saying things like that, Anderson. I’m sure Graham wouldn’t appreciate it; not only because it undermines his authority, but so, because we wouldn’t want the press to find out that I still own my shares.”

The manager nodded, “You’re right, sir. I wasn’t thinking. Here is the folder I had compiled for this project.” He added and stretched the folder to Kracus and he collected it.

Kracus opened the folder and began to flip through the documents in them, “When is the next meeting?”

“That’ll be on Monday, sir.”

“That gives us four days to put everything in place and get ready for this meeting. Get in touch with one of our legal representatives. I will be there for the meeting.”

“I’ll do that, sir.”

“You may leave.”

Jonathan got up, bowed his head respectfully to Kracus, gave the grumpy bodyguard a look of acknowledgement before he walked out of the door.

“Don’t give me that look, Clinton.” Kracus said without looking at him.

Clinton grimaced. “I think you work too hard, sir. You are healing from a stab wound—which I know from experience, hurts like the sonofabitch—you should be getting every rest you can and taking as much painkillers as you can, but here you are, letting these managers bring in office works for the past three fucking days.”

Kracus sighed, “I know you care about me, Clinton, but doing nothing will drive me insane. Because then, I’ll have to think about a certain woman who wants me dead for reasons I can’t seem to comprehend.”

“I’ll kill the bitch if I get my hands on her. I don’t care what her reasons her, I’ll skin her alive.” Clinton hissed, “I’ll make her eat her own damn tongue.”

Kracus chuckled, “Hopefully, Bose comes back with information about the woman. If we know who she is, we might get answers we need.”

Just then, the door opened again.

“Oh, to hell with this! Don’t step forward into this room or I swear to God, I’m going to cut off your—oh, Bose, you’re back.” Clinton stopped his angry tirade when he saw that it wasn’t another manager there to talk business.

Bose walked in, “Calm your balls, man. It’s just me.” He faced the boss and bowed to him. “How are you doing, sir?”

“I’ve been better. We were just talking about you. How did it go?”

Bose looked around the room, “Maybe, we can discuss it on a more secure location. I don’t trust these walls.”

Kracus thought about it, then nodded. “That’s a great idea. I’m getting discharged soon. When we get home, I’ll like to have everything you got on that woman.”

*****************

REVENGE WITH LOVE : CHAPTER 11 – 20

Mickey—or was it Rickey?—Tesiera didn’t care much about his name.

There were two long wooden poles and she had him suspended high up on those poles and underneath the poles was a large drum filled with acid; she had him stripped completely naked, and each of his limbs were held with ropes and drawn to the pole, stretching him to its maximum in a star–fish position.

This alone delivered a lot of pain due to the straining of his muscles. But, it wasn’t enough.

She’d used a hot blade to scrape off the skin on half of his face and his left arm too. She’d done it, gradually and painfully, while engaging the screaming man on a discussion about the weather. She’d run the blade through his skin, tearing and peeling off his flesh. He had blood everywhere, his face was slashed and flayed.

“Please! Please!!” He screamed.

Tesiera took a deep breath. She walked back to her chair and lowered herself to it. “We can do this all day, Dave. I don’t have anything better to do. And your scream makes a good music, I can listen to it for days.”

“You’re a monster! A fucking monster!!” He roared, writhing on the ropes.

“Too much compliment.” She gave him a cold smile, before she rose from the chair and walked back to him. “You like when we play, don’t you?” She asked silkily, “Let’s play some more, shall we?”

She played the knife on his left thigh. Her cuts were incredibly deep and extended through multiple layers of skin in order to reach his muscles and then she yanked his skin off like she was taking a slice off a birthday cake and his agonizing screams would fill the air and the blood would gush out unhindered. Her deadpan expression remained and she watch unfazed as Dave screamed in agony.

She looked unbothered, like she didn’t just tear out a man’s skin within minutes, his cut out skin on the floor beside him and his blood flowing down the drainage. “I’ll ask again. Where is Cryprus’ daughter? What did you do with the girl?”

“The boss will kill me if I tell you! He will kill me!” The man roared, sobbing like a child.

Tesiera sighed. “Honey, I will kill you before your boss gets the chance.” She dropped the blade, withdrew her dagger. Then, she lifted his left hand and sliced off his finger. “Where is the girl, Dave?”

His outcry skyrocketed. “No! Stop!!”

She chopped off his forefinger.

More agonized screams shook the basement. “I can’t! I can’t!!”

She chopped off his pinky finger.

“We sold her! We sold her!!” He confessed.

Tesiera stepped back, staring at her bloody dagger. She really hated it when her daggers get bloody. They were a bitch to clean. “Go on.”

“We sold the girl to Hans, a North American Mafia Lord! He’s a human trafficker. Last I heard, the girl makes money for him in his brothel!”

“Well I need location of this brothel, honey. Don’t keep me waiting.”

The man blurted out the location and Tesiera memorized them.

“Is that all?” She asked.

“Y–yes. I swear it, that’s all. Please, don’t kill me!”

Tesiera shook her head, “It’s not in my contract to kill you, Dave. If it was, you’ll already be dead.” She turned and started packing her things. Her job here is done.

When she got out of the basement, they showed her the bathroom where she cleaned up. She gave the information she extracted, confirmed her payment and took her leave.

Another successful mission, she thought to herself. She would like to think that it made up for the mission she failed three days ago, but the victory just wasn’t there. Apparently, her mind doesn’t buy it.

Maybe it’s because the mission she failed was the one mission that has ever mattered to her. It bugged her that she failed that mission as much as it bugged her that her father’s killers still walks the earth.

She has been thinking about it more than she should and she tried her best not to dwell on it but she can’t. She never expected things to go that way; for him to be a fighter, for him to have a house alarm and for him to be that good–looking.

Tesiera has never given two thoughts concerning a guy’s looks, she was uninterested in whatever anyone looked like. But now, her mind conjured up images of Kracus; his silvery–gray and gentle eyes and how peaceful he looked sleeping that night. It bugged her that he looked…kind. As if he couldn’t hurt a fly.

Those gray eyes looked pained when she accused him of being a cold-blooded murderer. The fact that she hasn’t forgotten that look annoyed her greatly.

Before her attack, while she was making her research about him, she’d watched multiple videos of him on the internet. She’d noted the way he smile. He had a big smile and his eyes would squint, crinkling up his nose.

She remembered thinking that the man had a genuine smile, for a murderer.

But then again, men like him knows how to put on a facade. She knows because she has become like him.

Such a shame that a good looking man like him would soon end up dead, by her hands, because she would try again. And the next time, she will succeed.

That said inwardly with conviction, she slid into her car and turned on the ignitor. As she drove away, the thought remained. The one that has bugged her these past few days…

How come those familiar eyes of his, now held emotions that were complete opposite to what she had seen that evening, twenty years ago?

Why did he look…kinder? Almost…different?

REVENGE WITH LOVE : CHAPTER 11 – 20

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