Revenge on the Mafia

TONY I woke up, my side aching with every breath. My strong but bloodied hands were handcuffed to each side of a metal chair and my legs had been tied together by something thin and tight. It was a cold, stone room, with white painted breezeblocks. My head was thumping. I saw sunlight reflected in rectangles on the stone floor. I instantly realised I was now in the basement of the house I came to with Frankie, as the barred windows had the same twists in the middle of the metal. "You're awake." A man said with a smirk on his thin lips from across the room. He was sat on a red leather sofa and there was the tall man who first answered the door next to him. The tall one was sporting a swollen, purple bruise on his cheek and near the eye. I remembered I landed a right hook there and I nodded my head in satisfaction, a smile creeping on my face.  "Antony Brown." The first man continued, saying my name. I struggled to remember his name and exactly where I saw him. He hadn't tried to fight me, which meant he was in charge. He knew me, so I knew from this that it was personal, but I wasn't dead yet. “Who are you?” I asked, not able to think clearly with my head pounding. “I’m Manuel. Manuel Demetri. This is Killa.” He said, pointing his thumb to the thug on beside him. The Demetri g**g was a well-known mafia g**g but it was more bark than bite. Until now, at least. The did a job stealing a cool ten million from the Butchers but my boys took it back a few months ago. We took half and gave half back to the Butchers, saying that was all that was left in their vault. They gave us a million as a thanks and we were all good. I was actually surprised the Demetri’s realised it was me who organised it. Manual, or Mannie as he’s known on the streets isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. “Why am I here?” I asked playing with him, whilst ignoring the ache in my jaw. “Are you stupid? What do think I want? Where’s my money?” Mannie demanded. “Colour me impressed.” I sniped. Mannie looked annoyed and I smirked. Riling him up was easy. “We gave it back to the Butchers. Why would you try to take their money? You should know better than to play with the big boys.” I goaded him. Mannie nodded at Killa who got up and punched me in the gut. “We both know you didn’t give it all back. Now cut the crap and tell me where my money is.” Mannie said, first normally, then louder as he lost his temper. "That was all that was there. So do you really want to go to war with us and the Butchers? Is that what you want?" I asked steadily, playing my hand. "I want my money. Then I want you to beg me to kill you. Then I want to party over your dead body." He said, as he got off his seat and stepped towards me. "I don't know about any other money." I lied. I knew that telling him would be the only thing keeping me alive so I why bother? I would just wait for Layla, the Butchers or my death. That six million would change my family’s lives. "We'll see about that. If you don’t, then I'll do the same to Layla." I leapt off the chair as much as I could and I saw him take a step back and his thug get up. "You leave my wife out of this." I raged.  His thug took three steps forward and punched me in the gut, forcing me back on my seat. "Then, there’s Emma…” He smiled. I headbutted Killa and was rewarded with another punch in the head but I didn’t care. “She’s a child!” I roared. What kind of monster would threaten a fourteen year old? “I'll leave them alone if you tell me where the money is. But I think Frankie needs to comfort them in their time of need until you do." Mannie smiled. Frankie! That Judas. It suddenly all made sense. I remembered earlier that day, arriving at the house I was tied up in now. I pulled my phone from my pocket and discretely take a picture for Layla. She loves this gothic look and we need our place repainting. The black matt door with red poppies either side is definitely her taste. Frankie walked up the steps, then knocked on the door and a man opened the door almost immediately. His gaze quickly went from Frankie to me, where it lingered.  "Hi we're from Brown's Builders." I said, sounding calmer than I felt. I might be 6"1 and I know I can take care of myself, but even then, something about him put me on edge. "We've come to give you a quote for an extension." I said when he didn't respond. He opened the door more and Frankie walked in. I followed him. Usually, I was the one leading. It was my company after all, but this gig didn't feel right. I trusted Frankie but I decided there and then we didn't want the job.  "The kitchen's back there." The man I now know as Killa said, as he pointed at the back of the house and shut the front door. He was slightly taller than me, which is rare and although he wore a suit, it didn't look like his house. I followed Frankie to the back of the house. There were three men sitting around the dining table at the back of the house playing cards, with an empty chair and cards dealt out, presumably for Killa.  "This him?" The guy on the left called.  "Yeah. This is Tony." Frankie said, patting me on the back.  "You looking at double doors and an extra 10 feet on a single-story extension?" I asked. "Double storey. Basement being the other floor. What do you think?" He asked. The garden patio doors were open so I stepped out, Frankie following me and noticed then how tense it was in that house but I ignored it. So stupid. I looked at the back wall of the house. It was solid brick, apart from the windows and patio door. I saw the window near the floor, on the wall of the back of the house was barred, the middle of each bar had an intricate twist design. That design is why I know where I am now. I rubbed my chin. This extension was a lot of work and I didn't want it so I was going to overcharge. An extra fifty percent should deter them, I thought. I looked at Frankie and he had a smirk on his face. I thought then that he probably knew what I was going to say, but no. He had plotted this scenario and I completely misjudged him. That was my fault. It was only when stepped back in that I knew I was in danger. There were four of them and just Frankie and I. Not that I expected Frankie to know how to fight against trained thugs. "It's taken a while but it’s definitely him." One of them said to the others, as we came back into the house.  Two of them came at once, with the other two close behind. I took my pen and swung it like a knife into the closest guy’s neck. He fell to the floor as I swooped underneath the second guys right hook and swept his legs from underneath him, knocking him out cold with a left jab of my own as his head bounced off the floor. I was not going down without a fight. I had no time to celebrate, though as the other two came at me together, closing in on my space. There was no time to process what was behind me. I just knew there was no escape. Killa was on the left, the guy asking the questions about the extension was on the left was on the right. I kicked the guy on the right in his knee and I heard a satisfying c***k. As Killa’s attention was diverted to the thug who has just dropped to the floor, crying out in pain, I landed a left hook on his chin but he shook it off and countered with a jab, which I covered but then I felt a blow to my left side. Then another to the right side of my face. I lunged for Killa, with a jab of my own but the next thing I knew, I had a hand on my shoulder and heard something on the side of my neck buzzing as I passed out. That must have been Frankie tasing me. "I'll kill him!" I fumed, realising I was trapped in the basement now, struggling against my restraints again in a blind rage. Killa punched me again. "Where is the money?" He bellowed, punching me again and again until I blacked out.