A Criminal's Kiss

I lit my cigarette and put the lighter back in my pocket, eyeing the man on the floor cautiously. He lay broken and battered; his face swollen, his nose bleeding, his arms and legs broken.

All because of me.

Did I feel the guilt?

The pity?

The remorse?

The answer was short and harsh.

No.

I took a long drag of smoke from the cigarette in my hands. I was meant to have quit a while back but it calmed me down, especially in situations like this. I shook my head and turned back to the helpless man before me on the floor.

"Please..." he sobbed quietly, " I have a wife and two

kids at home. They need me."

I raised an eyebrow at the familiar line and turned to look my brother, Aaron. "What do you think Ary Does he deserve to be spared?"

Aaron strolled forward and grabbed the man by his tie, yanking him up to stand on his feet. I tried not to roll my eyes at the clichéness of it all. Aaron liked to watch Mafia films. He really liked to watch Mafia films.

"Tell me Mr. Jones, when we came to get our money, why didn't we get it?" Aaron asked menacingly, not letting go.

"B-because I d-didn't have it," Mr. Jones stuttered.

Aaron threw a punch at his stomach, causing Mr. Jones to double up in pain.

Mr. Jones was in his late 40s. He had a balding head which was shining with sweat and his eyes were wide in panic. He wore a suit that would have been fairly nice if it hadn't been for the fact that it was incredibly tight around his rather short and chubby frame. Judging by his physical appearance he really wasn't built to take punches.

"I know that Mr. Jones," Aaron gritted his teeth, "the question is; why did you not have it?"

"M-my wife asked to use the money for a new car," he wheezed.

"Oh how nice. Did your wife like the car?" Another voice filled the empty warehouse and I turned to find my two other brothers, Jake and Marcus, making their way towards us.

"She---er... she….."

"Martin, would you care to share with us, what can you bought with our money?"

Jake asked folding his arms over his chest and narrowing his eyes at Mr. Jones, who gulped, clearly finding the gesture threatening.

"It was a...a..." Mr. Jones trailed off. The muscle in Marcus's jaw twitched and I smirked, realizing that I wasn't the only one that had noticed the uncertainty in Martin's voice when he had lied.

"Mr. Jones, I don't believe you used the money for the car, did you?" Marcus asked.

I raised an eyebrow, Mr. Jones was lying. He was in trouble now. If there was one thing Aaron hated most, it was a liar.

Aaron had always hated liars. He may have been a ruthless criminal, but if there was one thing he expected from everyone, it was the truth.

When we were a lot younger, our parents passed away. Unlike me, he was able to understand what was going on, but not completely as he was barely eight. However, just like any other eight year old he could put two and two together so he knew that something was up, even though nobody would tell him.

When all our other brothers got upset, Aaron did too, even though he wasn't sure why. The social workers ended up lying to him and telling him that our parents had gone away for a while and would be back soon. When they didn't come back Aaron found out and it broke his heart, he screamed and cried and they shoved him in therapy, but I guess it was just one of those things that left you scarred. In Aaron's case, it made him hate liars.

Which in some ways wasn't so bad, it could have been a lot worse.

"I---" Mr. Jones was cut short by Aaron who brought his fist down onto his face.

Mr. Jones let out a cry of pain and hid his face in his hands, when he moved his hands away, Aaron grabbed him by the collar and leaned in so that his face was centimeters away from Martins.

"Liar," he hissed.

"Aaron, calm down," Jake said, before turning to look at me, "Skye, will you take care of him?"

I shrugged and looked down at Mr. Jones, who was groaning loudly in pain.

"Sure thing, Jakey," I said grinning at him, only to have him roll his eves at me.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to use the nicknames when we're at work?" he said.

"You love my nicknames and you know it," I said before turning back to Mr. Jones.

"I hate your nicknames and I know it," Jake corrected.

Jake was probably the only brother that could treat a situation like this as a joke. He was the most carefree out of all my brothers and that also meant that he was the loudest and funniest one. Without him around life would be a lot more boring.

"Don't be too harsh on him," Marcus warned.

"Where's the fun in that?" I asked, taking another drag from my cigarette, before flicking it in the direction of Mr. Jones, who hissed in pain when the cigarette brushed against his arm, burning the skin.

Marcus laughed, "Skye, the poor guy doesn't want to spend his last few minutes on earth being tortured by the likes of you."

Marcus was probably the most sensible sibling out of all of us. He too enjoyed cracking a joke every now and then but he knew how important it was to have someone around who was level headed and could take charge.

"By the likes of me? I'm not that bad!" I protested.

"Yes yo