Page 38 of Chill

“Is he?”

I stood up and the guards tensed. “Yeah.” I walked over to Tony. “Think your legs are bad? Imagine your cock, raw, bleeding, and those tiny little beetles chowing down. I’ll shove a tube up your fuckin’ ass and let them crawl inside your body. Locke’s a psycho? I’m your God damn nightmare.”

Whatever courage Tony had fled as I produced my knife.

Tiny yanked his shorts down. Locke threw Tiny a pair of gloves. Tiny donned them and grabbed Tony’s cock. I dragged the blade down his cock, and Tony released a scream that a bitch in a horror movie would be proud of.

“A guy called Pickman!” Tony yelled the name as I turned the blade.

“Who?” Locke straightened.

“I only know him as Pickman. I search around for fighters to recruit and get paid cash. He calls me on a different burner each time. That’s it. That’s everything,” Tony screamed.

Locke stepped back.

“He’s yours,” he said to Greg. Pickman? Who the fuck was Pickman?

Chapter Eight.

Chill

We learned nothing more from Tony, other than how loud the asshole could scream. As Locke stripped out of his protective clothing, his men rolled the body up in the plastic sheeting. Locke threw the towel and overalls on top.

“Burn everything,” Locke ordered as he headed into a private bathroom. He came out moments later with dry hands.

“Gentlemen, I believe our business is concluded,” Locke said, his gaze steady.

“Do you? Seems this Pickman is making a fool of you,” I replied.

“One would think so,” Locke stated. “But they’d be committing a big mistake.”

“Fine.” Tiny and I began to walk out, and Locke’s laugh stopped us.

“Is that it? No request to work together?”

Tiny and I turned around. “Expecting us to beg?” Tiny demanded.

“No. But I know how you guys like to operate,” Locke replied.

“We’ve got leads, same as you,” Tiny said.

Locke laughed. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Do that.” I nodded, and we left. Locke’s gaze burned into my back as Tiny and I left.

Meadow

With trepidation, I opened the locker door, expecting two or three boxes. Tears stung my eyes as I saw how many were stacked up and labelled. Mr Lyons had indeed retained some of the children’s favourite items. Zion’s entire matchbox collection was here. All of Poet’s stuffed toys and her Barbie dolls were boxed neatly. And Cassian’s baseball memorabilia was wrapped and protected. Mr Lyons had saved much of the kid’s childhood. I owed him a great deal.

Happier, I left the storage locker, locked it carefully, and headed to the car.

“Meadow,” Gerard said as I rounded the driver’s side.

“Back off, Gerard, I’ve a restraining order,” I ordered, backing away.

“How did you get everything into your name?” he demanded.

“You did that, Gerard, not me. Honestly, I don’t understand why or what your game was, but that wasn’t on me,” I replied.