“Our answers are downstairs, I know it,” Mercy says. “Maximo knows a lot more than he is saying. I can feel it.”
“Me too,” Mason says, running a hand through his hair.
He’s changed so much and hasn’t changed at all. His hair is longer, and the scruff on his face isn’t to grow a beard, but because he keeps forgetting to shave.
“I say we get a little more creative,” Tongue adds, staring down at Happy, who is at his feet.
“You want us to threaten him with a baby gator? What’s that going to do?”
“Torture. Happy is growing, but his bite is strong,” Tongue says proudly, puffing out his chest as if his kid is the best there is.
I can only imagine Tongue as an actual dad. He would be so protective, so intense, and his kids would probably be just as fucked in the head.
I drop my head in my hands, and my stomach growls, but I ignore it. I can’t even think about eating right now. I haven’t been able to stomach anything. Not with the vivid images playing in my mind every second of every day.
What if she’s been calling out for me? What if she’s been crying every day? What if she’s been fighting and it hasn’t mattered? What if he has been using her? I can’t get her eyes out of my head. They are pleading for me to save her, and I can’t.
I’m fucking done with this. I’ll kill Maximo for what he has done. I don’t give a fuck if he is Moretti’s brother or not.
No one deserves to live after what he has done, but as long as Natalia’s life is in his hands, I can’t go too crazy. We have to save Natalia too. Innocent lives cannot be sacrificed. I have to try and think smart.
We find Mary. We find Natalia.
We kill Maximo.
I will kill her father.
This bullshit is done, and Moretti can take over as the mafia boss again. At least with him, we didn’t have to worry about shit like this.
I check to make sure I have my ninja stars and get up from the chair. My girl’s life has a fucking time bomb on it. I’m not about to let it go off.
I swing the basement door open and hurry down the steps. I don’t tell anyone what I’m doing. I’m not asking Reaper for permission for what I can and cannot do to Maximo.
I’m just going to fucking do it.
Opening the playroom door, the metal hits against the wall as I stomp in. Maximo’s head is bent, his breathing is labored and choppy, and his suit is nothing but soggy scraps from the blood, cuts, and piss saturating him.
His days are fucking numbered.
I grab him by the thick of his hair and yank his head back, then slap him across the face. “Wake the hell up!” He doesn’t move; he just groans. “I said, wake up!”
When he doesn’t, I let go and move around him. Along the wall is a counter with various tools, but it’s the gasoline I’m after.
I’ll set him on fire and send his rotten soul back to hell.
Taking a page from Boomer’s book, I grab the red jug of gasoline and head toward Maximo, circling him like a lion, a beast waiting to fucking kill.
It’s amazing how I went from feeling nothing to feeling everything in just a few days of being with Mary.
I sit the jug down on the floor, the floor vibrating a high-pitched frequency from the weight, and slip a few ninja stars from my pocket.
Maybe this will wake him up.
Gripping the silver between my fingers, I admire the pointed hooks on the tips of the star, then fling it through the air. A whoosh of a blade spinning sounds before thudding against Maximo’s eye. His left eye opens, and he beings to scream. Blood flows down his right cheek in thick streams, and my nostrils flare when I hear his pain.
I was taking it too easy on him before.
I fling another, landing right in his crotch, and another painful wail begs for me to stop.
Never.
“You took my fucking eye! You took my eye!” Maximo pulls on the restraints doing his best to get out of the trap he is in. “And my dick! My dick is bleeding.”
“And you’ll lose it if you don’t start talking.” I hold my star up to the light and let it shine. Maximo’s reflection mirrors off the metal. His mouth is open, begging for mercy, begging for me to let him go because he can’t handle the pain anymore.
Footsteps sound at the door, and I see Reaper, Tool, Bullseye, Tongue, and Happy. And that crazy fucker is off his leash, opening his mouth in a deadly hiss when he smells blood.
“What the hell is that? What is that!” Maximo rocks back and forth to get the chair loose, but it’s pointless. It’s welded to the floor, and it isn’t going anywhere.
“That is the reptile that is going to eat you for dinner if you don’t start talking, and you better tell me everything, Maximo. Or I’m going to skin the flesh from your cock with the very tip of my ninja star. I’ll take my time. I’ll make sure every second is you in complete agony.” I yank the star from his dick, which was more in his groin, but the threat was close enough. “Do you take me seriously, yet? Do you understand? Moretti has already told us to do whatever we wanted to you, because even he doesn’t trust you. The man that can’t remember anything remembers how he feels about you. What’s that say?”
I yank his head back again so I can get a better look at his face in the light. His good eye is watering, and the star is stuck deep in his other eye. To drill in how serious I am, I pull it out, and his eyeball comes with it.
He screams until he pukes. I barely have enough time to get out of the way, so it doesn’t get on my boots. The eye is nearly sliced in two, the nerves red and dripping from the back, and the hole in his eye socket is about to become a home for gasoline. With two fingers, I pinch the eye and pluck it off my weapon. It’s squishier than I thought it would be.
“Have at it, Happy,” I say, tossing the gator the eye. He catches it quickly, snapping his jaws before he swallows it down.
“Good boy,” Tongue says, praising him as he pats him on the head.
“I promise I’ll feed you bit by bit to Happy, and then I’ll burn your goddamn bones, but not before I make you watch Happy eat your dick. Then, my Prez will rip your heart from your chest, and you’ll see it stop pumping. Happy will eat that too. I’m done fucking around, Maximo. Where is she!”
Silence.
This is so fucking frustrating. I hate silence.
I pick up the jug and start to pour gasoline over his body. I know it burns the open wounds, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything right now. I shove the nozzle between his lips, and he coughs from the fumes he inhales from the gasoline. “I’ll make you drink this. What is your role in this? What is her father’s plan? Why the hell were you at the barn? Where is she? What’s so special about today?”
He nods eagerly, wide brown eye dripping with tears while the abyss on the other side cries blood. I rip the nozzle from his lips and toss it to the side, then take the same star that blinded him and put it against his neck. “Talk,” I say.
“He’s a business partner. At first, it was just drugs. I didn’t want to get into anything else. When you’re in my line of work, it isn’t hard to figure out who is who. Everyone knows about the Preacher who doesn’t follow the bible, if you know what I mean. I heard he was looking for his daughter. I got a picture, and any information would have my network tripling. The fights would grow, money would grow, power. It’s all about the power,” he says, blood spraying from his lips when he speaks.