Page 33 of Dark Side of the Cloth (The Righteous 1)
Well, the man definitely wasn’t working.
Picking the best route, he jogged into the belly of the beast. As he drew closer, he was able to hear soft whimpering and a distinct cracking sound of a whip as it echoed after each strike. Hiding amongst the shadows, he crouched low by the last of the towering shelves to take in the scene.
A young woman was stripped naked and hanging by her arms from a pulley attached to a winch in the ceiling. She swung like a slab of meat, her dirty feet barely skimming the floor. The girl’s long, sparkly earrings were the only things she wore and made a strange contrast to the tableau before him. Her back was riddled with angry red welts and already drying blood from the night’s abuse. A ball gag was strapped around her face, muting her whimpers and tear-filled cries as another blow from the leather bullwhip snapped across her back with a loud crack. The woman’s slim body arched as blood splattered across the floor. Dark eye make-up stained her cheeks as her strangled wail reached him.
“You like that, whore? Oh, I bet you’re fucking wet for me now!” Another crack, more strangled whimpers. The guy paused to give his cock a few strokes, shoving his hand crudely down his pants to do so. He grunted, and Dean’s lips peeled back in a silent snarl.
“Bet you won’t turn your nose up at the next cock you’re paid to suck. That’s the problem with women these days—they don’t know their place.”
Slipping the large knife out of the sheath on his chest, he stalked toward his prey.
“Say it! Say you want my cock in that bitch mouth of yours!”
The woman mumbled helplessly around the gag, and the guy laughed hard, his beer belly shaking. “No, you don’t want to say it?”
The man was completely focused on his sick task and raised his arm to inflict yet another blow.
Dean roughly grabbed the man by his wiry, greying hair and jerked him back hard as he kicked out the man’s knees. Shock stopped the man from yelling as his body slammed to the concrete floor, his whip rolling away. He let out anoofas the air rushed out of his lungs. Dean knelt on the man’s chest and held the massive blade against his throat.
Dean studied his prey’s features—light blue eyes that were wide with confusion, a ferret-like face that only a mother could love, and unkept balding hair that stood in all directions.
“You and I need to have few words, but first.” Dean yanked the man by the hair until his feet scrambled to keep up as he was dragged toward a large piece of machinery.
The man’s shock was wearing off, and he began to fight. In his prime, he may have been a medium threat, but he’d let himself go over the years and was reduced to no more than a rodent with a beer belly. His legs annoyingly flailed as his hands smacked Dean’s much stronger fist.
“You’ve gotten lazy picking on defenseless young women. Big mistake.” Dean roughly twisted the man around. The man letting out a loud yelping sound as the little bit of hair he had left tore from his scalp.
Now with the sicko in front of him, Dean slammed his free fist into the soft tissue of the man’s stomach and followed it up with an uppercut to his face. The man’s head rocked back, his teeth clamping shut and jawbone crunching as fist met bone.
That definitely broke something.And Dean smiled at the thought.
Dean had to contain his wild rage, or he would kill him too soon. Dean threw the man up against the massive conveyor. Sheathing his knife, he quickly secured his hands above his head with large zip ties. Dean then secured his legs. Once satisfied, he searched the man’s pockets until he found the car keys.
He wandered toward the wide-eyed woman, his eyes scanning the area for her clothes. She was visibly shaking, but he had to give her credit—she didn’t make a sound. Spotting the meager articles that she’d been wearing, typical clothing of her trade, he scooped up the small glittery pile and turned to grab the lever that controlled the chain. Gripping the handle, he pulled back, and the machine whirred to life, slowly lowering the woman to the ground.
The woman sighed and then whimpered, her face contorting in pain as her arms were lowered. She shakily clawed at her face and winced as she tried to reach the buckle securing the ball gag.
“That will be easier with your hands free. Here, take your clothes.” Like he was approaching a wild animal, he slowly walked the short distance and held the clothes out to her. She clutched the small pile to her chest. Now with his hands free, he flicked through the keys on the keyring and found the one for her cuffs. He made quick work of the locks, the metal springing free from around her wrists.
“Turn around,” he ordered, and the woman turned but kept an eye on what he was doing. The strap was pulled extremely tight and had to be hurting her.
“I’m sorry this is going to hurt to undo.” He pulled hard a small whimper escaping her around the rubber ball, but the buckle released. The woman made a gagging sound as she pulled the spit-laden contraption out of her mouth and dropped it to the floor.
“Go straight to the hospital and get your back checked out. But do me a favor and delay telling them where you were. It will give me more time with our friend over there.” Dean nodded towards the man. “Do you understand?”
The young woman nodded as he handed the man’s keys to her.
“And may I suggest you find a new line of work? You could end up like this again, and I won’t be around to save your ass. Now get going. You don’t want to see this.” She took a moment to look over at her abuser, now the one in the precarious position, and then back up at him.
“Thank you,” she said. Her voice sounded scratchy from the screaming. She took a step and then looked up at him again. “Are you going to kill the fucker?”
“Most likely.”
Her eyes lit up. “Good.”
“I’m happy you approve, now get out of this building. I have work to do before the police arrive.” The woman needed no more encouragement and limped the way he’d come, disappearing into the shadows of the tall aisles.
Coughing had his head turning toward the man as he spat blood on the floor. A tinkling sound followed, and Dean smirked at the tooth lying on the floor.
