Avery stripped, feeling more vulnerable than he ever had in his life. He found himself shaking. He went to work every single day in the middle of cops, surrounded by them, and felt superior. He got a secret thrill out of outsmarting them all. He brought his victims here to this mansion out in the middle of nowhere and did whatever he felt like. He was master here. He could force those little brats to do anything he wanted, and there was no one to stop him. No one could shake their finger at him and tell him how wrong he was.
“Get on the bed, right in the middle. You like that mirror so you can admire yourself. Go ahead and look your fill.”
Avery stretched out on the bed, getting his first glimpse of his captor. To his shock, there were two of them. By the door there was a smear of blood, but Jay was gone, as if he’d never been there in the first place.
“No, kneel up facing the headboard,” the scariest-looking of the two instructed him. He had a pair of handcuffs and he snapped them tight around Avery’s wrists and then attached them to the headboard of the bed, just as Avery had done to numerous children. Then the man put something around his wrist, right over his pulse.
His attacker was a big man with plenty of muscle and the deadest pair of eyes he’d ever seen. Avery had been considering taunting his attackers, but he changed his mind. The other one, the blond, was studying the pictures Avery had blown up and put on the walls of his room. He liked to see himself, and he liked to force the little kiddies to see what was coming to them.
“I’m really good at what I do, Avery,” Savage said. “Just so you know, I was taught in a school in Russia. The Russian likes to tell you about that school, doesn’t he? There were four schools, but he was involved with the school the instructors all liked to call the ‘experiment.’”
The tone was casual. Not a hint of emotion. His captor walked into his sight, tall, all muscle, bald head. In his hand he held a short three-foot whip.
“Most people don’t realize the pain inflicted by a whip has nothing whatsoever to do with how long that whip is, but you know, don’t you, Avery?”
Savage walked over to the wall to study a photograph of a young girl, no more than eight, her back torn and bleeding with whip marks crisscrossing her skin. “They call me Savage, but I can see you just might rival me for that name.”
The other one came into his view, and in his hands he held up a rubber plug; it was thick and long, with beads climbing up to the place where the flared end was.
“Savage, we forgot something. He likes this one in particular.”
“Thanks for reminding me, Ice,” Savage said. “I wouldn’t want to miss any of his favorite parts.”
Avery opened his mouth to protest, but the one called Ice shoved the terrible thick string of beads halfway down his throat so that he was gagging and choking.
“That’s right, you want it nice and wet,” Savage said. “Look at that picture you have right in front of you. We’re going out of our way to re-create it for you. In the meantime, you be thinking about names. Russian names. And addresses. Think about them as well. And don’t forget the collector. He’s very, very important to us. That would be a very good name for you to remember. That, and Terrance Marshal’s latest address.”
Avery tried to shake his head, but Savage pulled the beads from his mouth, and he coughed and spit to try to clear his injured throat. Savage caught him in a powerful grip and thrust his head toward the bed. It jerked his arms horribly.
“Allow me, Ice. You know I don’t give a fuck, don’t feel a thing when they scream or bleed. Well, that’s not true.” Without preamble he slammed the rubberized point deep and kept pushing, uncaring that he was tearing through the man’s insides. “I’ve got this right, don’t I, Avery? I’m following the series of pictures you took and put on your wall to enjoy. This is the kind of shit you like, right?”
Avery’s voice gave out after the steady scream, and he could only put his forehead on the headboard and pant. He was already dripping in sweat and then he heard the whistle of the whip before it cut into him. Savage hadn’t been lying when he said he knew how to wield a whip, and he did so, going for maximum pain. He was a very strong man and clearly an expert with the tool. Every time Avery thought he might black out, Savage stopped to give him a rest and then would start again.
“You might want to come up with a name or two, Avery,” Ice said, all friendly like. He perched on the edge of the bed. “He can keep this up all night. The thing is, the skin on your back, butt and thighs is pretty much gone. He’s going to want to turn you over soon. I’m thinking that thing in your ass is going to hurt like hell when you grind it against the mattress, and that whip on your dick is going to send you someplace you don’t want to go.”
Savage stopped swinging the whip and moved to stand in front of Avery so he could lift his gaze and look at him. Savage hadn’t so much as broken a sweat.
“Yeah, I think you need to turn over, Avery.”
Avery shuddered with pain and fear. All he could do was whimper and shake his head.
Ice nudged him. “Don’t piss him off. Seriously, it’s never a good thing to get him angry. Just do what he says. Turn the fuck over and start talking.”
Avery tried to comply, too scared to do anything but obey, but his arms were not cooperating. There was terror in his eyes. They could stay there for weeks and no one would come. What about Harold? Where was he? But he’d already been waiting at the mansion. That meant he was dead as well and there was no one. He’d created this space for himself so he could be alone with his young victims when he chose.
Savage unlocked the cuffs from the headboard and Avery forced his painful body to turn. Savage gripped one ankle and yanked him down, stretching him across the bed. It hurt beyond comprehension. Savage never changed expression. He simply secured him back to the bed, his legs spread wide.
“You got the name of the collector for us?”
“I don’t know him. I don’t know him. I swear I don’t.” Avery’s head tossed side to side. “Only Terrance knows. Terrance Marshal. He got his brother Richie a job with us. And the Russian. The Russian knows.” He gave the information eagerly.
“Where’s Terrance now?” Ice asked.
“He’s in the wind. He does that the moment something goes wrong. His brother was killed. He took that as a warning, and he disappeared.”
He’s telling the truth, Absinthe said. His voice was abnormally distant. They’d tried to protect him by using a pulse monitor Mechanic had created for them.
“You tell everyone you know the collector,” Savage said.
“I lied! I lied so they’d respect me more!” Avery screamed, his face so red and puffy his eyes bulged out. He couldn’t take his gaze off the whip in Savage’s hands.