Page 42 of Legacy
“I don't want you to—”
I cut him off. “What is it? What do you know?”
“Your dad had a name for us. A cousin of the Hunters.” His words were soft, almost like he was trying to calm me down before I'd even started to get angry. “Quentin Brook.”
I stared at him blankly. If he thought I knew the name, he was right out of luck. “He's one of the truck drivers that works with Kate.”
I blew out a breath. “Where is he?”
“He might have nothing to do with this, Legacy.” Domino stepped back. He didn't need to tell me where he was. We had a basement room for this sort of thing. If Domino had brought him in, then that's where he was.
“Where is he? Is he here?”
Domino pointed in the direction I had been heading. If he thought Quentin was innocent, then he wouldn't have already scooped him up.
I took the stairs two at a time. There were other brothers already down there. Their faces were grim, but they moved out of my way without me having to say a word.
The first person I saw when I stepped into that barren room with the drain in the middle of the floor was Duke. Barefoot and shirtless. There was blood on his jeans.
Someone had let him off his leash already.
I’d heard of Duke’s reputation even before I had patched in. So named because of his upper class accent and mannerisms, Duke was a psychopath. One that the club kept a tight hold of. I hadn't ever seen him at work, though I'd heard stories of what he could do with a razor blade when the mood struck him.
The man hanging from shackles suspended from the ceiling was a bloody mess, and I raised an eyebrow at the injuries that Duke had already inflicted on his face.
“I don't know anything,” he garbled through his ruined mouth. “I promise, my man, I don't.”
“I think he looks better with a Chelsea smile, don't you?” There was nothing human left in Duke's eyes as he absently wiped the razor on a cloth. “It's really becoming of him.” He chuckled.
I barely heard him. I hadn't seen the man who had smashed me head first into marble and stained my best friend's grave with my blood, but I'd heard him.
It was the man in front of me.
My voice was level despite my growing desire to inflict pain. “Where is she?” I took a step into the room, my hand outstretched for the blade. Duke didn't hesitate in handing it to me. He might be the artist amongst us, but this was personal for me. He wouldn't mind sharing the sport.
Too late, Quentin realised his mistake. Maybe he’d assumed he was safe, that a bang to the head would make me forget his voice. If that was the case, then he was sadly mistaken. It was a mistake that was going to cost him his life.
“Where is she?” I spoke each word slowly. Another step and he pissed himself. The pungent yellow puddle kept growing and growing. Forcing the pair of us to step back.
I wrinkled my nose in disgust. Fucking coward. He was quite happy to kidnap a woman so someone could rape her, but faced with people who could fight back, he bottled it.
“I didn't touch her, man.” He thrashed against the cuffs holding him. “I swear it, I didn't!”
“Where is she?” I asked again. And this time, my voice shook. It was getting harder and harder to keep control of my anger.
“He’ll kill me.”
I laughed, throwing my head back. The sound echoed around the small room. “Oh, I'm going to kill you, there's no doubt about that. The only choice is whether we make it quick or I take my time.” I glanced at Duke, who grinned. He liked the second idea better.
“I…” More urine soaked the front of his jeans. “She’s in my truck. At the yard.” Just like that, he broke.
For a second, I stared at him. Could it be that easy? Could she really be in the place she worked, hidden away in plain sight? I didn't know why I hadn't thought of it. Except that maybe it had been too obvious.
“Go.” Duke stepped forward, snatching the razor back from me. “Find Kate and bring her home. I'll deal with this piece of shit.”
Not bothering to say anything, I turned on my heel and walked away.
Quentin screamed. “You said you would make it quick. You swore.”
