I haven’t moved from my spot, unsure on what the plan is. Truth be told, I want them to myself. All three of them. They got to take out Davis. They shot him down, easily taking his life. I didn’t get that justice. I haven’t gotten anything. I wanted to hunt them down and take care of this myself. I don’t want anyone else around when I take my anger out on each one of them, one at a time.
Although having them together, all at once does offer up a unique opportunity.
I want them to hear the sound of what happens when I’m crossed. I want the other two waiting and listening to their friend being beaten to death. It’s fucked up and sick, but all I can wonder is what they were going to do to Laura. And every answer that comes into my head justifies beating them to death. And taking my time doing it.
“How’s the gunshot?” Jase asks.
“All but forgotten about.”
He nods and I catch Carter taking me in. “I’ve had worse and the bruise on my jaw is already letting up. I’ll be fine,” I answer them and I mean it. With everything going on, I haven’t even thought about the gunshot. I take a pill in the morning for the pain, plus a pill in the evening. “Vicodin does wonders.” My answer gets a laugh from Jase and Declan, not from Carter though.
Walking to the bench, I ask, “How’d you find them?”
With the doors still open, a breeze makes its way in and the faint smell of fresh water from the lake behind the barn comes with it.
The man in the middle leans forward, his shoulders shaking as he lets out a sob. A look of disgust plays on Carter’s face.
“Middle man was the easy one. We had his license number from when we got Davis. It was linked to a credit card and that was linked to other bills, including an address.”
Carter leans forward, ripping the bag off the man’s head. His hair is matted on the right side, his face red and blotchy and a dingy rag spills from his mouth. He screams behind it, but the words are morphed into nothing that’s identifiable.
His face, though, I recognize his face. “Yeah, that’s one of them.”
“He told us where the others were. It was easy enough to collect them.”
Carter continues pulling off the bags and revealing the other two men. I didn’t imagine I’d feel this much relief when I laid eyes on this crew again. It matches the animosity though.
I wanted an outlet for my aggression… here it is. Wrapped up in a pretty bow.
“He say anything interesting?” Declan asks and nods to the one in the middle. He shrieks behind the gag and that time I heard him. Please. He cried out please. It’s muffled behind the rag, but I heard. I’m not going to give any mercy. He can scream whatever he wants to scream. He’s as good as dead. The only consolation I have is knowing he’ll regret ever stepping foot into Laura’s apartment until the moment he dies.
“Yeah,” Jase answers, leaning against the barn wall, propped up with his leg bent and one foot against the wall. “He said we’re working with Walsh, and therefore we’re free game.”
“Free game?” Declan questions at the same time Carter huffs darkly, with true humor at the mention that the Cross brothers are game.
“Remove his gag, I’m sure he’ll tell you we’re as good as dead like he told us.” Jase doesn’t take his eyes off of him. His expression is empty of mercy and the man continues to beg. The other two men don’t speak, they don’t try to do a damn thing. One stares straight ahead while the other watches the four of us, focusing on whoever’s speaking. He’s the one with the broken jaw.
“Did you ask them why they went rogue?” I ask. That note is everything to me. The one made to look like Marcus’s handwriting. I want to know why they did it. Why they decided to threaten Laura, to take her life, and why pin it on Marcus by writing the note the way they did.
“With the note?” Jase asks to clarify.
“Yeah,” I say as my voice hardens and I have to shove my hands in my jean pockets just to keep from reaching out to them. “One of them wrote it, right?”
Carter kicks the back of the man seated directly in front of him, the one staring straight ahead.
“We didn’t ask. You should though,” he informs me. “His print is on it.”
Every step is careful as I move toward the man. He’s in blue slacks and a collared shirt, almost like a uniform. He’s the tallest of the three. I crouch down in front of him, but an arm’s length away and rip the gag from his mouth, tossing it into the dirt. No matter how hard of a man he wants to appear, he still retches from the cloth being removed. He spits on the ground at my feet and I wait, letting the anger pass. I need to know: was it just them, or was Marcus involved in any way at all? I have to know who all of my enemies are.
“Why’d you want to pin murdering my girl on Marcus? Did he send you to her house?” I ask and when the prick doesn’t answer, I add, “He’s pissed about Walsh, so he goes after a woman? That doesn’t seem like Marcus.”
Silence.
“Seems like something a dickless coward would do. There’s no way a man like Marcus would go after someone’s girl. You want to be Marcus, but you aren’t.” My last line triggers something.
The man’s eyes flash for a moment and he clenches and unclenches his jaw, still not saying anything. I don’t mean to do it, at least I’m not conscious of it, when I strike out and slam my fist into his nose.
“Fuck!” the man screams and leans backward, which only makes him fall. The blood from his broken nose leaks into the dirt, and Jase lets him lie there for only a moment before forcing him back to his knees. All the while he fights it. I shake out my hand, reeling inside. I need to know. I have to know who wanted her dead. Every name. Every single name involved. They all have to die.
“Look guys, he’s not mute,” I say, deadpan. “For a moment, I thought I was having a one-sided conversation.” Everything on the outside of me, is at odds with what’s going on internally. Even the control. I need them to talk, to tell me what happened, or else I have nothing. They’re on their knees, at my mercy, but I still have nothing.
The middle man speaks up again, his eyes wide and his words muffled. Both men on his left and right glare at him.
I rip the cloth out of his mouth. “You have something you want to share?” Please. Please, I pray, give me something. Tell me what happened that led to this.
“Please, I’ll tell you everything, just let me go.”
“No.” My answer is immediate and the man’s eyes dilate as they go wide. He’s hit with shock at first. He’ll still tell me. I know he will. I have to believe that; I need him honest in his final hours. I’ll be honest too, just tell me.
“We told them it was up to you,” Carter informs me. “Guess he was hopeful that you would have mercy.”
“Please!” he begs, his single word yelled in such a high pitch it breaks from his throat being dry. “I’ll tell you everything. Anything you want to know.”
“You think you could do that? And then you could leave here and Marcus wouldn’t kill you?” Tears leak from the man’s eyes. “If you could do that, then whatever you have to say isn’t worth enough to even hear it.”