Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 108119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
I shrugged. “I only care that I get paid, and she’s been… difficult. I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t holding a candle for someone and plotting her escape. I hate paying for product and finding out it’s used goods, so tell me, who is she to you?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. I could see the relation similar dark hair, similar skin tone. It was him. I just needed him to say it.
“I’m her brother.”
I grinned and lowered my gun. “Good answer.”
I had maybe one minute before Chase came storming in, gun raised, shooting anything that moved.
“Come here.” I tossed my gun to the floor, barely registering the thud it made against the hardwood.
He sighed in relief and walked right up to me.
I grinned.
“What?” He frowned. “What’s funny?”
“You.” I licked my lips. “Hand me your knife, the one you’re hiding in your left hand. Now.”
He cursed and handed over the silver knife.
“Stick your tongue out.” I gritted my teeth as anger pulsed through my body, murder, monster, savior, saint. I had no idea what I was.
Maybe I was finally losing my grip on reality.
He laughed. “My tongue? No. I don’t think so.”
I held the point of the knife to his jugular and pressed the blade against his skin. “Open your fucking mouth. Now.”
Shaking, he parted his lips.
I grabbed his tongue with my right hand, gripping, twisting, and then I sawed it off with his own knife.
Blood spewed from his mouth as he screamed and fell to his knees in front of me.
I tossed the tip of his tongue just as Chase walked in, gun raised.
“Son of a bitch, Andrei, could you stop doing weird shit?”
“Sorry.” I wasn’t, sorry that was. “His voice was annoying me.”
“He’s no use to us if he doesn’t talk.” Chase pointed out.
“There’s ways to get him to talk. After all, he still has his hands.” On second thought, I tilted my head as his right hand was pressed against his mouth.
I picked up my discarded gun and fired a shot into his left hand.
“He’s right-handed, and we have time, maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll learn sign language.”
“Crazy Russian.” Chase seemed both offended and pleased. “I’ll call for some clean up, we’ll take him to the club for questioning.”
That’s what I was afraid of.
That he would confess that the girl they were keeping was his own sister, that she was a De Lange, a walking abomination to our family.
To Chase especially.
I knelt down, picked up the tongue, and stuffed it in my pocket while Chase grabbed his cell, cursing into it like it was the first time he’d seen me do something crazy, which it wasn’t. I was known for shooting off body parts people didn’t need, I really didn’t see the point in murderers keeping things that weren’t necessary to their survival.
Suffering, I knew well.
Killing was too easy.
While Chase was on the phone, I leaned over and kissed six thirty-two’s brother on the forehead and whispered. “Mention her, and I’m going to shove this piece of your tongue down your throat and watch while you choke to death, understood?”
He whimpered.
I patted his cheek. “Good talk.”
“Yeah, no he did it in…” Chase checked his watch. “Three minutes forty-seven seconds. Yeah, yeah, I’ll give you proof. No Nixon, just shot off his hand, cut out his tongue… I’m never eating tacos again, thanks for that visual.” He clenched his teeth and then nodded to me. “Nixon wants him alive.”
“He’s alive.” I shrugged.
Chase just stared at me like I was losing it.
“What?” I wiped my gloves on my pants and shoved the guy’s knife into my pocket.
“I got this.” Chase hung up the phone. “Take the car and go get cleaned up. The guys and I will figure all this shit out and head over to the club tonight for drinks and torture.”
The brother whimpered.
I gave him a cruel smile. “Good, we just purchased some new cat tail whips, can’t wait to see how much flesh we can pull from his back before he talks.”
“Crazy bastard.” Chase shook his head at me. “Do you just come up with this shit on your own or do you Google ways to peel flesh off people’s skin without killing them?”
“Google…” I slapped him on the back. “…is your friend.”
“Google, he says, as his name tops every list in the FBI.”
“Hey, they love me over there. I almost gave them you guys.” I laughed. “They can’t touch me, and now they can’t touch you. You’re welcome.”
“You’re an annoying little shit.”
“I’m only five years younger than you, and a lot more…” I tilted my head at him and lowered my eyes. “Endowed.”
“I may kill you in your sleep one day, just thought you should know.”
I shrugged. “I may just let you so you can put me out of my misery.”
It slipped.
Chase’s smile fell.