Page 28 of Dark Side of the Cloth

The woman sighed and then whimpered, her face contorting in pain as her arms were lowered. She shakily clawed at her face and winced as she tried to reach the buckle securing the ball gag.

“That will be easier with your hands free. Here, take your clothes.” Like he was approaching a wild animal, he slowly walked the short distance and held the clothes out to her. She clutched the small pile to her chest. Now with his hands free, he flicked through the keys on the keyring and found the one for her cuffs. He made quick work of the locks, the metal springing free from around her wrists.

“Turn around,” he ordered, and the woman turned but kept an eye on what he was doing. The strap was pulled extremely tight and had to be hurting her.

“I’m sorry this is going to hurt to undo.” He pulled hard a small whimper escaping her around the rubber ball, but the buckle released. The woman made a gagging sound as she pulled the spit-laden contraption out of her mouth and dropped it to the floor.

“Go straight to the hospital and get your back checked out. But do me a favor and delay telling them where you were. It will give me more time with our friend over there.” Dean nodded towards the man. “Do you understand?”

The young woman nodded as he handed the man’s keys to her.

“And may I suggest you find a new line of work? You could end up like this again, and I won’t be around to save your ass. Now get going. You don’t want to see this.” She took a moment to look over at her abuser, now the one in the precarious position, and then back up at him.

“Thank you,” she said. Her voice sounded scratchy from the screaming. She took a step and then looked up at him again. “Are you going to kill the fucker?”

“Most likely.”

Her eyes lit up. “Good.”

“I’m happy you approve, now get out of this building. I have work to do before the police arrive.” The woman needed no more encouragement and limped the way he’d come, disappearing into the shadows of the tall aisles.

Coughing had his head turning toward the man as he spat blood on the floor. A tinkling sound followed, and Dean smirked at the tooth lying on the floor.

“Who the fuck are you, and what do you want?”

Dean casually walked over to his prey.

“I’m going to ask you a couple of questions, and depending on how you answer will dictate how this goes for you.”

“Fuck you, you mother fucking, cunt sucking, spic…”

Dean sighed loudly as the man continued to swear a blue streak. But inside, his inner darkness stood up and fucking cheered. He didn’t need any encouragement to torture the fucking shit out of this man, but when they were stubborn pricks, his juices flowed a little faster. Dean looked around and spotted a large crowbar leaning against the wall. Grabbing it, he came back and held it out toward the man.

“Would you like to revise your previous answer?”

“Go fuck yourself, you boarder hopping trash!” The man spat at his feet, just missing his boots.

“An abuser and a racist, very well.”

Taking his stance, he lifted the crowbar up onto his shoulder like a baseball bat and swung. He visualized the man’s kneecap as a beautiful white baseball and heard him yell, “No,” as the metal came down.

The sickening crunch was music to his ears as the knee snapped sideways, pushing bone through skin and staining the floor with more red. The man let loose a blood-curdling scream that echoed around the large space as he tried to collapse to the floor. The thick zip ties held the man in place as he gasped and wheezed. What Dean liked to call pain drool slid from the man’s mouth and dripped to the floor. He let the man have a minute to recover, which he thought was pretty fucking nice of him.

“Now, let’s try this again unless, of course, you’d like me to even things up?” He nodded toward the good knee. “I’m always up for a second home run.”

The man’s lips pulled up into a snarl, hatred radiating from his ice-blue eyes.

“What do you want?”

It had taken a long time to learn to control the beast that raged in his body, the beast his father infected him with because of his biology. Some of his early work had died much too fast because he hadn’t learned what he needed. The trick was to inflict max pain but limiting the damage to nonlife-threatening portions of the body. Dean’s dark urges screamed to rip this man’s heart out, to do his sworn duty and protect, but the rational part of his mind said not to rush things. This particular piece of shit would endure more pain if he drew it out.

“Much better. I knew we’d learn to get along.” He smiled cheerily, flashing his perfectly white teeth and resting the crowbar over his shoulder. “I want to know two things. First, where is your brother? Second, what was your role in the rape and mutilation of the Jacob’s girl seventeen years ago?”

“I haven’t heard from my brother in years, no idea where he is. And I don’t know what you’re talking about, what Jacobs girl?”

“You know it always amazes me that assholes like you are so stupid, even when you’re staring at excruciating pain right in the face. I thought we understood one another.” Dean tsked at the pathetic excuse for a man and raised the crowbar off his shoulder.

The man’s eyes bugged out as they followed the movement.