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The screaming starts, but I don’t stop until blood is running down his chin and dripping onto the dusty concrete floor.
I take a step back, swinging the blade to my side and glaring at Carson. “You want to skip the lobotomy? It might be easy for you to talk.”
I’m almost disappointed when Carson nods, but then I remember that Lily is waiting for me in the van. The sooner we get out of here and back home to safety, the better.
“Take the rag out of his mouth,” I order one of my men, nodding at the dangling body in the center of the room.
Carson flails a bit at the beginning, but goes limp when the rag is removed and used to wipe the blood from his eyes.
“Okay, so let’s make this quick. I don’t have all day,” I say, looking at my watch.
Carson coughs, his voice strained and scratchy from the pain. “I’m not the guy you’re looking for. I swear! I’m just a nobody. They don’t tell me meeting locations or anything like that.”
“Don’t play with me,” I growl, swinging the butcher knife at him and sinking it into his arm.
Carson howls in pain as I yank the blade back out, causing him to bleed at an alarming rate. He won’t last long this way, but that’s what I’m hoping for. If he thinks he’s going to die, he’ll beg to be saved, and any information he has will be spilled for a chance at survival.
“That’s a nasty wound you have,” I mutter, shaking my head at the mess he’s making on the floor. “You really should tie it off or you’re going to bleed to death.”
“Yes, please,” he gasps. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. Don’t let me die!”
“I wasn’t born yesterday, Carson,” I reply, trying not to lose my patience and kill him on the spot. “Talk first, then I’ll help you.”
He looks at his arm, realizing how bad it is, and starts to panic for real. He can barely get his words out, scrambling to come up with something in the few seconds he has before he starts to black out.
Once he goes to sleep, he’s never going to wake up.
“I don’t know the location, but they meet at the main police station and drive together in unmarked cars from there. You can track them easily,” Carson blurts.
It’s a stupid thing to do, but I wouldn’t put it past the Red Hitters to behave in such a reckless way. They’re a lot messier than they need to be. I think they enjoy getting away with it, to be honest.
Still, I’m not willing to accept Carson’s answer just yet. He might be holding something back, giving us a piece of the truth without revealing everything.
“I don’t believe you,” I say. “Try again.”
“Please, man, I’m begging you,” he squeals, looking back and forth between his arm and me frantically. “I’m telling you the truth. Tie my arm or I’m going to die.”
“Then die,” I reply, turning away from him and addressing my Bratva colleagues. “Come on, guys. It’s time to leave.”
“Don’t we want to dispose of him?” one of them asks, peering around me to get a better look at Carson as he flails around, trying desperately to break free.
“Leave him here. I want to send a message,” I mutter, shaking my head.
Carson screams, but his voice is already weak. He can barely speak by the time we reach the stairs, and when I turn the light off in the basement, I can’t even hear him breathing anymore.
He’s gone, and soon the rest of the Red Hitters will follow in his footsteps.
31
Lily
Ivan has been distant in the last forty-eight hours. I feel like there’s guilt weighing on his broad shoulders that he doesn’t want to confront yet. There’s still too much to do, all this danger around the Red Hitters and Project G.
It’s all becoming too much for both of us, eating away all the little moments we used to have together. Even when he was busy, we’d still have time for a walk in the garden or a secret tumble under the sheets.
Now, everything has dried up, like winter is coming.
The air outside is just as cold, uncharacteristic for this time of year. It’s supposed to be summer, but I can’t shake the need to wear a sweater, even indoors. Maybe it’s because I’m pregnant, but I think Ivan feels it to.
