Page 78 of Hiding In the Dark (The Righteous 4)
“Great throw,” Kes said sarcastically.
“Think you can do better? Here,” Arek held out another canister.
Reaching back, he aimed and let his arm fly. The canister flipped through the air before it sailed through the hole and bounced around.
The coughing was instantaneous. A moment later, like a bloody magic trick, the men pushed through a hidden door that blended into the rest of the wall. Both of the men fleeing the compartment were holding guns, but them being blinded by debris and tears and coughing up a lung made disarming them a simple task without even having to blow anybody’s hand off.
Grabbing one of the pieces of shit by the neck, he cracked the man across the face until blood poured from his nose. He wanted to take his mask off, but the two canisters of that shit still lingered, so he fisted a handful of the man’s T-shirt and dragged his ass along the floor to the bedroom across the hall.
As he threw the man on the old bed, the springs squeaked, like something wailing out of a haunted house, before Dickhead joined in with his groans as Kes kneeled on his back. He yanked the mask of his head and tossed it to the side.
“Get…off…me,” the man he was pretty sure was Igor said. He looked like an Igor. The words came out in a gasp in between his coughing. His face was bright red as tears ran down those reddened cheeks like a waterfall.
“That’s funny,” he mumbled. “Is that what you did when Zumi screamed to get off her?” The fury in his chest was an inferno once more, and he grabbed one of the knives out of his chest holster and lifted it up to stab the man, but then took a steadying breath to calm himself. He wanted them to die slowly. For that, he needed control.
Putting the knife away, he unhooked the tightly-wound coil of rope attached to his belt. The thing didn’t look like much, but it could hold both Arek and him while dangling from a helicopter, so looks were deceiving. He pulled the tie on the knot and wrapped first one hand and then the second so they were tied together and then to the top of the bed frame. Kes did the same method to the mans feet, just as Arek tossed a limp Ricardo through the door.
“Sorry, I got a little over zealous, but he’s still breathing.”
Kes looked at the blood coating his face and chest and was surprised to see that Ricardo was indeed still alive, even if his face was a mess. “Can you string him up over there?”
“On it.”
Kes focused on his own prey as Arek went to work, hanging Ricardo from the bare rafters where part of the vaulted ceiling had caved in, leaving the beams accessible. As soon as Igor was secured, he leaned over the dazed man, and that time, when he pulled the knife, he stabbed it through one open palm like he was auditioning for the part of Jesus’s executioner.
A pained scream echoed through the house and made him smile. He forced open the guy’s other hand and did the same thing to the second palm. Igor’s back arched, lifting his weight slightly off the bed.
“Had to even things up,” he offered by way of an explanation. Now every time the man tried to move or thrash around he’d hurt himself more as the sharp blade cut through his hands.
Kes slid off the bed and stood to his full height as he stared down at the man that may or may not have hurt Zumi. It didn’t really matter which of them did the physical work—the other was there. The other watched and did nothing. They would both die, and he would dance in their blood before he was through.
“I need to do this one alone,” he said, turning to look at Arek as he finished securing the knot holding Ricardo.
“I figured.” Arek wandered over to the pack he had left on the floor. He dug around inside until he pulled something strangely shaped and metallic from inside. “Here, take this.”
“What the hell is that?” Kes asked, taking the strange spiked contraption. He rolled it over in his hand, and it reminded him of a cross between a long, narrow pear and a flower, but with an unusual key-like crank device on the end.
“That, my friend, is a pear of anguish, otherwise known as a paravenous.” Arek’s smile faltered. “Do you not know what it does?”
“No.”
“Man, you’ve been missing out. This was designed in the Medieval era—you shove the blunt pear-shaped end up their ass or down their throat and then crank this part, and it opens up. Very painful. Lots of screaming. You’ll love it.”
“And you just happen to carry this around with you?”
“You can never be too prepared.” Arek looked at his phone. “You have an hour, and then we need to leave.”
Kes stared at the thing Arek had given him and then looked between the two men. “That’s all I’ll need, but if I’m not out in an hour….”
“I’ll come to get you.” Arek laid his hand on his shoulder. Although he meant physically, the look in his eyes said he’d mentally pull him back too if needed.
“Thank you.”
Arek marched from the room, his boots loud on the wooden stairs as he jogged down. Kes glanced between the two men, both of which were groaning in different degrees of pain.
“Alright, let’s start with the only important question. Who touched Zumi?”
Kes leaned his head back on the chair, his eyes closed but his senses on full alert. How many hours had it been since he slept? He had to be rounding on seventy-two, but he couldn’t shut his mind off, and he was terrified he was going to miss Zumi waking up.
