“Don’t want him dead just yet,” Mercy says, keeping his eyes on the smoke coming from the rods embedded in his legs. He plays with the knob that adjusts the electrical waves. Turning it to the right will fry the guy. “Where is his father?”
The guy doesn’t say anything.
“Listen, you not saying anything only hurts you. You say something, you get to leave here alive.”
“You’re lying,” the Scapegoat sneers.
“Am I?” Mercy drags a chair from the corner, spins it around, and sits down. “I don’t know what you know about me, but I’m known for my mercy.”
“It’s true. He’s so much nicer than all the other dark−hearted people in the world.” I tap the end of my bat on the ground. “Like me. I wouldn’t let you walk out of here.”
“Mmm, never said he’d be able to walk.” Mercy twists the knob ever so slightly and flips the switch. The jolts hum as they travel across to the rods and spit begins to fly out of our new friend’s mouth. When the vein in his forehead begins to pop, Mercy adds just a little more and Bolts cackles, staring in obsession as the Scapegoat gets electrocuted.
Prez turns the knob to left and ends the torture. “Whistler. Get into swinging position.”
I grin, knocking the tips of my boot with my bat out of habit like they are cleats.
“See, you’re going to want to speak,” Mercy warns, gripping the guy by the neck. “I don’t do well with men threatening to abuse women and your bosses do just that. You work for them, so you can’t be much better. I’m going to ask one more time. Tell us what we need to know and you’ll live or—” Mercy eyes me, giving me permission to do what I’m best at.
I stand to the side and the guys begin to stomp their feet which fuels me. I swing my bat slowly as I practice, and the Scapegoat’s eyes widen when he sees the nails in my bat.
Stepping a bit closer, I grip the handle and zoom in on his lower back, twisting as I swing. The whistle is clear like the wind howling on a stormy day. The loud crunch of my bat hitting him, along with his screams, is music along to my ears. Giving the bat a wiggle to dislodge the nails embedded in his skin, it finally comes free.
He’s screaming, his lower body limp. He was standing on his tiptoes, but now his feet are curled under, scratching against the floor.
Yeah, walking out of here is out of the question.
“I’ll have every single one of my guys ruin you until you’re nothing but fucking bait.”
“Kenneth’s wife knows,” he says. “You want answers, she’s got them.”
I don’t like the sound of that.
Wife.
She doesn’t belong to Kenneth. She belongs to me.
I swing my bat again, in the same spot as I did before, and the guy cries out, sobs actually.
Huh. He must still be able to feel his legs.
“They aren’t married, and we aren’t asking her because she’s been through enough. We’re asking you,” I state, placing my bat under his chin to push his head up so he is forced to look at me. Blood drips thickly from the nails as I meet his eyes.
“Please,” he begs. “I needed money for my family and Kenneth offered so much.”
“Money. Is it money that will make you talk? I have money. If it’s what you need, it’s yours.”
“Aw, so nice of you, Prez,” Princess awes.
“I’m a nice guy.”
“I’ll tell you. I swear, I’ll tell you.” The man breaks.
“Damn, that was fast. I wanted to have more fun.” Bolt grips the rods and yanks them out of the Scapegoat’s thighs. The pain is too much for the little guy to bear and he passes out.
“Damn it.” Mercy stands and punches the guy in the face, which does nothing.
He hangs limp.
“Can’t handle a little roughin’ up and he’s hanging out with drug lords.” Mercy scoffs. “I don’t want to waste time, so I need you to go talk to Charlie and see what she knows.”
“Prez, come on. I don’t want to bother her with this. She doesn’t need to be more involved than she has been over the last few years.”
“The difference is that she’ll know. I want to attack before he has time to fucking blink. I’m not going to sit here and wait for another dead body or video or another one of his grunts to show up. I want to take care of this problem. Now. Do as I say, or we will have problems, Whistler.”
I curl my lip at him and lean my bat against the wall and nod. “Fine, but don’t be surprised if she doesn’t know anything.” I take one last look at our captive and head out the door, annoyed he conveniently passed out before we got what we needed out of him.
Not knowing where to search for Charlie first, I keep left and go inside the bedroom she’s been staying in with me since we got back from the beach. I hear water running from the bathroom, not the spray of the shower, but the rush of the faucet as the tub fills.
The door is cracked just enough I can smell the lavender bubble bath. The hinges creak as I step inside and see her in the tub, her hair up in a messy bun with a few loose strands framing her face. She’s puffy eyed from crying, her cheeks red, and her lips swollen from her nibbling on them with her teeth.
I’m going to have to break that habit. Her lips are too perfect for such abuse.
“Cupcake, what’s on in that gorgeous mind? What’s wrong?” I kneel on the ground and double-check my hands for any blood. When I don’t see any, I wipe her tears away softly.
She flinches.
“I’m sorry,” she says, bringing the bubbles closer to her chest.
“For what, Cupcake.” I snag the loofah on the side and dip it in the water and begin to gently scrub her body, starting with one leg.
She stares up at the ceiling, her head leaning against the back of the tub. It reminds me to buy one of those pillows for support. Her bottom lip wobbles. “For everything. None of this would be happening if it weren’t for me. I should go back and your issues would be taken care of.”
It pisses me off that she thinks like that. Boots and all, I climb into the tub and pull her towards me.
She sniffles and stares at me with bepuzzled brows. “What are you doing? Your clothes…”
“I don’t care about my clothes. I care about you.” The water is hot and helps relieve the stress, but the looming question hangs over my head that I need to ask her. “This isn’t on you. This is on him and don’t forget, my sister is just as much involved in this as you are, so really, I’m the common denominator. If I wasn’t around, this wouldn’t be happening to the people I care about. And I do, babe. I care about you and her.” I wrap my arms around her and pull her closer to me, settling her on my lap. Her legs wrap around my waist and her arms around my neck. “So beautiful. Anyone who has ever hurt you was a damn idiot and anyone who dares to hurt you again will have to go through me.” The water sloshes as I lift my hand to her neck, then skim my fingers down and trace the swell of her breasts. “I need to ask, what do you know about Kenneth, Cupcake? About the Scapegoats?”
She arches her back and her hands grip my drenched jeans to get more of my touch. I stop skimming her flushed skin kissed by the hot water so she can focus. We need to get out of the tub, but it’s actually more productive for me because these damn clothes are so uncomfortable. Once I get the answers we need, I’ll pick her up and lay her down on the bed if she lets me.