Page 28 of Satan's Naughty List
It was just a few years ago when Crusher was taken from us, thankfully brought back whole. While I want to pretend I’m not projecting my fear, I know for a fact that I’m really only terrified because of the incident with Crusher.
“Techy went back to your suite with Hudson to help with the kids. We weren’t responding to their calls, so he went looking. Apparently, Hudson’s been reaching out to us because Techy’s been missing for a couple hours. He didn’t hear back from Techy and called a mandatory lock-down.” My eyes burn with tears threatening to reveal themselves. Blinking harshly, I keep them at bay.
Barely.
“Appropriate response,” Widower adds just as Doc chimes in. “What else?”
“I found glass shards left over as well as a white powder that popped positive for LSD. It was like someone tried to clean it up but was in a rush.” I slide through the photos of the scene. Widower grabs the phone, zooming in on the shards.
“You can see where they took the dustpan and then tried to disperse it.”
“If you look closer, you can see blood spots in the panels.” I move the photo a bit where there’s an undeniable splat of blood.
“Is that…” Widower whispers, eyes snapping to mine. All I can do is shrug.
“I have no fucking clue.”
Chapter Twenty
“Youthinkdoingthemission solo was right?” I hold down my groan, the fog in my brain slowly clearing.
“The fuck do you mean? Weneedhim,” a female voice hisses with obvious irritation. She’s got an extremely high pitch, one that makes my ears ring due to the surrounding metal.
“You’re the dumbest bitch I’ve ever laid. We needed the girl, not him! He’ll lead them right to us,” the guy snarls followed by a resoundingsmack. I don’t need to be fully conscious to know that he just walloped the shit out of her.
As I become more aware of my body, I realize I’m sitting up with my head tilted oddly. Wiggling my fingers, I’m able to gain feeling back in my arms that I now know are tied behind my back. Without wanting to cause a scene, I test the bindings and the knot. The dumbasses put my hands together. Rule number one: never have the captives hands put together.
Well, I don’t know if that’s the first rule, but in this case it is.
“Just kill her already.”
“No, please don’t!” She screams, clattering follows with the struggle. It doesn’t sound familiar, but I peek my eyes open just to be sure.
It’s the girl from behind the bar.
“We asked you to do one simple task.One.Then you bring more trouble to our door,” a bearded guy snaps, pulling his pistol from the holster.
“Please,” she begs, her voice jerking as another skinnier guy pulls her hair back. “I won’t do it again, I promise.” She continues chanting how she’s going to change.
Unsurprisingly, none of them listen.
“One time is too many. You were shit pussy anyway.” With that, he pulls the trigger. Her head snaps backward with the force, body staying upright for a split second, then crumbling to the floor.
“Clean this shit up,” beard guy grumbles before stomping out of the room. Two guys trail behind him and slam the door shut. Her head pours red liquid from the wound, brain matter splattered around the wall where she was shot. From how she landed and the angle I’m seated, I can see the exit wound and the giant gaping hole in her skull. I have no doubt that it was done by either a .45 caliber hollow point or a .44 caliber magnum.
Squinting slightly in an effort to see better, I can see skull shards scattered around. Just toward the edge of the wall, there’s several blond hairs laying around. Some are attached to pieces of skin, some are stuck to the bone, and others are simply just laying around on the blood getting soaked through.
There’s a few minor spasms in her hands, but that’s something I’ve heard about from Nomad before. It’s right before livor mortis kicks in. I’m not familiar with anatomy, I just know from what my husband has said.
Now that I think about it, I know more than I probably should. Suddenly, shrieking hinges startle me, forcing me to give up my incognito of unconsciousness.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the gay supporter,” skinny guy sneers. His small hand grabs my jaw, forcing me to look up at them. There’s a familiar metallic taste in my mouth. One that I’ve not been treated to for years. It damn near brings out the side of me that I’ve kept hidden away for far too long. The side that only Nomad has seen.
Collecting the blood tinged saliva, I reject it quickly from my mouth, smacking skinny guy and beard guy at the same time.
“Two for one,” I cheer quietly, smirking dangerously.
For obvious reasons, they’re not a fan of my joke.
