Page 35 of Dark Side of the Cloth (The Righteous 1)
“Again fuck you! Any bitch that gets into my car does so willingly.”
“I’m finding this hard to believe, but go on.” Dean waved his hand dismissively.
“My brother tried to talk me into a similar job a couple of years after, and I flat out refused. Said I didn’t want to know anything about it or him anymore and to leave me the fuck alone. I don’t know what happened to the job, and frankly, I didn’t care. I decided to cut all ties and stick to the whores that walk the streets.”
“Easier targets?”
“They’re already looking to put out, cops don’t give a shit, and their families, if they have any, don’t want anything to do with them. They’re the perfect partner for my games, but I never kill them.”
“I wouldn’t call what I walked in on a willing partnership.” Dean’s lip twitched, and his nostrils flared as he reined in the turbulent rage. “Where is your brother?”
“Are you going to kill me even if I tell you?”
Dean paused as if giving his question real consideration.
“Well, if you don’t tell me, I certainly will, and I’ll make sure it’s so painful that you’ll be begging to die for hours,” Dean growled.
The first threads of real fear reflected back at him. Like a fucking light turning on, he could see realization glinting in the man’s eyes. He was no longer the predator. He was the prey. It was like a great white knowing it was the king of the ocean until the killer whale shows up and fucks shit up.
“I don’t know what you want from me, man. I haven’t talked to him in years, but we had an old hunting cabin that’s not on any map. If he’s holed up somewhere, that place would be my only guess.” The man winced as he shifted his weight.
“Give me the address.”
Again with the long pause. Dean was growing tired of the silent act. His glove creaked as he gripped the crowbar tighter in his fist. He wanted this man’s blood so bad he could already see the red running down his body.
“Tell me, or I slit you open and pull out all your insides while you’re still alive. You could survive for hours before you finally die, and believe me, I will make sure you feel every excruciating moment as I play with all your organs.”
Dean pulled the knife on his chest free. It was so sharp and clean it reflected even in the poor lighting.
“Holy fuck, man, you’re a sick SOB. The place is on Pine Ridge Road. It’s due north of here. It’s a no-maintenance, off-the-beaten-path road that will rip the bottom right out of a car if you’re not careful. Take the fifth driveway on your right and then travel for another twenty minutes until you come to a dead end. The driveway was well hidden by the forest on the left. There are no markers, no numbers—it’s just a small gap in the trees and knowing that crazy fucker it’s probably also booby-trapped.” The man shook his head back and forth. “I won’t even go there for fear of stepping on one of the bear traps or getting strung up in a snare. Stupid fuck that he is,” the guy mumbled. “Now that I’ve told you what you want, can you call me a fucking ambulance? I’m going to be sick again.”
The man was pale, and the adrenaline that would have masked the majority of the initial pain would be wearing off by now.
“Not yet. I have one more question.”
“Fuck you! You said two, and I’ve answered both.”
“That’s fine. I don’t need to know how many women you’ve raped or abused. I’m sure there have been many.”
Dean laid the crowbar down at the man’s feet, who noticeably slumped in his bindings.
The calm before the storm.
Dean walked back the way he’d arrived and pulled the tall canister on wheels over, and went back for the rest of the welding equipment. Such a beautiful thing that this place welded conveyor belts. Dean’s initial thought had been to pull the man apart by attaching him to the conveyors, but this… this was going to be so much more fun.
“What the fuck are you doing?” the man asked. Dean ignored him.
He’d helped his buddies weld on many occasions while deployed and knew his way around a welder. He lit the end, the bright blue flame hissing to life.
“Fuck me!” The man jerked violently against the ties. “What the fuck, you crazy son of a bitch! I told you what you wanted to know!”
The screams came before the flame started to cut, the tone shifting from fear to terror and finally unspeakable pain, as his voice raised several octaves. The rancid stench of shit wafted through the air, and his jeans dripped with his piss. The scent brought Dean serenity. It was a physical reminder that he was completing his sworn duty.
The beauty about working for The Righteous was that they didn’t care how you killed your objective as long as it didn’t trace back to them. That was why only the best operatives from any agency were ever selected.
The bright blue flame danced in his eyes as he knelt, cutting through flesh, muscle, and bone. The man’s body whipped back and forth with obvious excruciating pain, his eyes bugging out as he watched his foot being cut off at the ankle. Dean looked up into his terrified eyes.
“Yes, this is really happening,” he said conversationally.
