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Despite the urgency driving me, my approach is slow. I am more aware of my surroundings, the sounds, and the movements all around us. The rise and fall of his chest put me in a rage.
I want this man dead.
Rosie comes back with a bucket filled with water, but there is a mischievous glint in her eyes. She looks like she’s enjoying herself.
“Would you like to do the honors, or shall I?” Amusement lights her face.
“Have at it.”
I step back to avoid the splash of water as she chucks it and the bucket itself at our unconscious friend, who starts awake.
Nothing like the crash of reality to wake a person up.
His head swivels back and forth slightly while he tries to take in the room around him. When his miserable circumstance finally dawns on him, he bolts upright.
“What the hell. Where am I?”
“Well, you got it right the first time.” The words spill out of my mouth before I can think them through, but it feels good to be on the offensive. “For you, this will be your intro hell. But I’m sure you’ll make your way to the real thing very soon.”
Clearly, my words affect him. His eyes widen as he realizes who I am.
“You…”
“Yes. Me,” I reply. “You took something of mine, and I want it back. So here’s the deal. Either you make this easy for yourself and tell us where to find her, or we use the tools over on the table until you do.”
His eyes connect with the pliers in my hand before he turns to gaze at the table. I note which tools make the man’s eyes widen in fear as he takes in the array of implements.
“Well?” Waiting will not do this man any favors.
“Look, you really don’t need to hurt me. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
I look over at Rosie. Her face hasn’t changed at all. The subtle shift in her eyes to me says his response is not what either of us expected.
“Okay, and what is it you have to tell us?” I ask.
“Your friend, right? The hot bimbo that was hanging off of you at the club? You want to know where she is, right?”
Shit. He really will tell us what we want to know, won’t he?
It’s then I smell the acidic scent of piss and witness tears stream down his face.
What a fucking coward. He deserves to die. No matter how cooperative he is in the end.
“Look, I got involved with bad people and needed an out. Boss said I could walk away if I got his merchandise back for him and figured out what was going on at your club.”
My eyebrows raise as a silent prompt. His boss is probably lying to him.
“I came looking at your place for the girl. I couldn’t come back with nothing when I couldn’t find the bitch. I took your girlfriend instead.” He is panting hard, with a very satisfying panic resonating in his voice.
What on earth?
“Do you mean the merchandise you were supposed to take back with you was a woman? The woman you came in looking for?” The calmness starts to crack at the realization when I turn the pliers in my palms. Holding them tightly, I backhand him. The surprise on his face brings a smirk to Rosie’s when I glance back. I guess he really thinks he will get out of this alive if he caves. Too bad I am dead set on making him just that: dead.
“Speak up when I ask you something.”
Shaking himself, he speaks in a slight, meek tone. “Yeah, the… the… they sell them. The women.”
“Are you telling me you gave her over to traffickers?” I growl.
