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“What’s your suggestion?” Massimo asked warily.
I peered down into the basement. The staircase was so steep, it was practically a ladder, and the floor wasn’t too far down.
“Don’t—” Massimo began, but I didn’t let him finish. I squatted down and jumped into the basement.
With a grunt, I landed on my feet, stirring up dirt. Two guys stared at me dumbfounded, the same ugly fuckfaces as the guy from above. They had been busy packing up their drugs. I flung my smallest knife at the one closest to me and impaled his right hand, which had been going for the gun on the table in front of him. Then I pushed to my feet and barreled toward them, colliding with the second. I heard another thud suggesting Massimo or Alessio had jumped after me. I knocked the guy out and heard another grunt behind me. Massimo had knocked out the other guy.
Commotion in the back of the basement set me in motion. A third victim. Tonight was Alessio’s lucky night. He wouldn’t have to share.
When I reached the end of the basement, I saw long legs disappear through a flap door, then the rope-ladder vanished too. I sped up and catapulted myself up so my fingers grabbed the wooden frame of the flap door.
Another ugly redhead stared at me with wide, stunned eyes. Those stupid brothers had definitely all banged flappy-pussy-zombie. He clutched the rope-ladder in his blistered hands, then his gaze darted to the shotgun at his feet.
“I skewered the ugly bitch from above. I hope she wasn’t your squeeze.” His head shot up, and I gave him my most manic grin.
He reached for the gun, and I hoisted myself up. The moment I was above ground, I aimed a kick up. The shotgun flew from redneck’s hand, and a shot barely missed his head.
Phew.
He stared at me panicky, his mouth ajar.
“Run.”
He staggered back, almost stumbled over the ladder, before he dropped it and fled. I shook my head. Next time, I’d pick decent victims. These motherfuckers were so pitiful. Where was the challenge?
“What are you doing?” Massimo called up from below, dark brows drooping in disapproval.
“Trying to have some fun.”
“Don’t let him escape. There are booby traps down here. He could ignite them from afar.”
I sighed but sprinted after the guy. Within a minute, I had caught up with him. No fucking challenge. I kicked him to the ground and dragged his dizzy ass back to the meth hut. By now, Alessio and Massimo waited in front of the house with the two other assholes at their feet.
“We’ll torture them here. I don’t want their diseased corpses in my car,” I said.
Two hours later, I got my predicted outcome. Cutting them up was hardly any fun. And on Massimo’s insistence, we’d covered up with protective suits.
When we were done, I perched on the truck bed and smoked my usual after-torture cigarette. It didn’t have the intended effect. I still felt restless.
“Don’t mope around,” Massimo said.
I glowered. “This was a mess. I’m not a fucking crime scene cleaner.” I motioned at the blood-covered protective suit I’d tossed to the ground.
“Let’s go grab some tacos. I’m starving,” Alessio said.
I threw the cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. “I don’t know about you, but the only thing I’m hungry for is a decent kill. You can bury your faces in guacamole if you want, but I’m going to find another motherfucker to kill.”
Alessio and Massimo exchanged an exasperated look.
“You need to learn when it’s enough,” Massimo said, sounding like our fathers.
“Not in this lifetime. I want blood, and I’ll get it. You can come along, or I’ll drop you off at Taco Bell. I don’t fucking care.”
I climbed into the car. I knew where I was going. I’d had a backup kill on tonight’s list anyway because I’d anticipated this miserable kill-fest.
I put the address into the GPS while Massimo and Alessio argued. When they got into the car, I knew they’d come along.
“We’ll join you,” Massimo clipped.
