Page 79 of Dirty

As I struggled to get past the pain, I wished he’d simply shoot me and get it over, but that thought eventually faded.

“Where’s my mahney?” Tattoo asked.

I turned my head to the side and spit a pool of blood at his feet. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“Otro,” he said.

Another.

I spit again, plastering blood on the floor beside the pliers-wielding idiot. The throbbing pain in my jaw replaced the dull ache in my leg.

Tattoo nodded toward my head.

As his partner pushed the filthy steel tool deep into my throat, I closed my eyes and wondered just how much longer I could last.

He clenched the jaw of the pliers against a tooth on the other side of my mouth.

This is going to be a long fucking night.

TWENTY-FOUR

Lex

After waking the next morning and checking my phone, I decided to drive to Adam’s house and have a talk with him about his change of heart.

As much as I didn’t want to lose him, I also refused to be treated like I didn’t matter.

The short drive to his house wasn’t an easy one, and the closer I got, the more I wished I hadn’t decided to go. As I drove down the block toward his home, I considered driving past, and foregoing the departure speech I had planned.

I pulled in the drive nonetheless, got out of the car, and stepped onto the porch. After beating on the door for five minutes and getting no answer, I let out a sigh and turned toward my car.

It wasn’t early by Adam’s standards, but I knew it was still earlier than he typically went to work.

Frustrated, I stepped off the porch and into the drive. As I reached for my car’s door, I glanced at the garage. Curiosity eventually got the best of me, and I walked to the door, checking over my shoulder with each few steps.

I unlocked the lock and pushed the door up enough to see.

What the fuck?

His motorcycle was parked inside.

You’re an asshole.

I released the door and stomped to the porch.

I beat on the door with all my might. “Open this door, you son-of-a-bitch. I know you’re in there!”

I had visions of him being inside with someone else, and wondered who she might be.

After he opened the door, she’d be some bitch with a black eye.

I pounded harder. “You owe it to me to tell me what’s going on,” I shouted. “Open the door.”

I beat on it until my fist was sore, and then peered in through the window. None of the lights were on, and the home was dark.

I reached for the doorknob.

Locked.