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“Congrats, man!” Shaking his head, a grin crosses his face, and he chuckles. “You know I can take care of this so you can go marry her now, right? Didn’t need you here to vent out some frustrations of my own.”
Scoffing, I shake my head. “And miss the fun? I don’t think so.”
As we crowd into his Escalade, silence blankets the air, and realization of what we’re about to do sets in. Hurting men, killing them for attacking those we love is nothing new to any of us. Hell, you could even call it a hobby. But it doesn’t mean we take glee in it, not normally, at least.
The weight of taking a life is heavy, and no doubt, it shouldn’t be taken lightly. Allowing ourselves these moments of reflection helps ensure we don’t make mistakes so we can go home to the ones most important to us.
“Kern River Canyon is pretty rough right now due to all the rain we’ve had recently,” Devlin remarks, implying where we could dump a body or two should we want to.
“I’ve heard the gorge is treacherous,” Z comments while typing on his phone in the back seat.
“Someone went missing out that way just last week; haven’t found him yet.”
A twinkle in Devlin’s eye makes me think he had something to do with that. I wouldn’t be surprised. I’m sure it’s not the first, nor will it be the last either.
Cruising the smooth highway roads, with rolling hills flanking both lanes and the afternoon sun high in the clear blue sky, it's almost peaceful. It's like the world doesn't know what's about to happen inside my old friend’s Highland Knolls home.
As we approach the gated estate, I’m hit with a sense of nostalgia: the quiet neighborhood, the elderly tending to their gardens, young children playing in their front yards while their parents watch. In moments like this, I can see my future with Hester, with my kids, with kids her and I will have together, and eventually with grandchildren.
Before we exit the vehicle, Devlin makes sure the gates are closed, and two of his men are standing outside the front door. It's been so long since I've been here that I don't recognize them.
“They new?” I nod to the men.
“Yeah. You remember Cash Cross?” he smirks.
I let out a low whistle, surprised to hear the name. “Who doesn’t?”
Cash was locked up at fourteen for killing the man who raped and murdered his little sister. The police hadn’t done much in the way of the investigation because their father was a drug smuggler for the cartels. They believed he deserved what happened to his daughter. He killed himself a year after Cash was locked up.
“He’s up in Sacramento now, building his own little empire. Won’t tell me what he’s doing, but ever since his release two years ago, he’s been training some of the best men in the business,” Devlin explains, pointing at the two guards. “Quiet, follows orders, can kill a man before he knows they’re even there.” He sounds amused.
“Interesting.” Men like that aren’t a bad idea to keep Hester safe when I can’t be with her.
“Give him a call; I’m sure he’ll have the right fit for you.” Devlin seems to read my mind as he leads us inside to what he refers to as his playroom. He’s always had a mean streak a mile wide. He’s one who enjoys breaking others.
“Damn,” Z mutters behind me as he gazes around the brick-walled room. All manner of weapons hang from the walls, with chairs to one side, a table in the center, and a drain directly underneath. The stained cement floor needs no explanation. “This looks like a fun room to hang out in.” Of course he would think that.
“Not seeing any man needing a lesson in manners here,” Theias states the obvious.
“It’s decidedly lacking in the bodies I was expecting myself.”
“Patience, my friends.” Devlin shakes his head as he strides towards a workbench, tugging on an innocent-looking hammer beside the shelf, and a secret door opens to two cells in a dark room. “How is this?” Inside are two men, stripped of clothing, using their hands to block the light from their eyes as they try to look at us.
“That’s a sweet parlor trick.” Z grins, rubbing his hands together like the villain he is.
Stepping into what I now recognize as a chilling, windowless cellar, I stare down the two men who tried to kill my woman and nearly succeeded with her friend. Allowing rage to gorge my veins, my heart beats a steady drum as I anticipate their blood spilling over my hands.
“Who took the shot?” I ask. The two men share a look; one shakes his head, raises a trembling arm, and points at the other. “I want him, then.” Devlin unlocks the cell, grabs the man’s hair, and tosses him to the floor in the main room. “Shoot him in the head,” I instruct Z about the man who ratted out his friend. The look on his face before the bullet penetrates his skull is one of shock and horror.
Blood and brain matter splatter the wall and floor, creating a disgusting display of how his life ended. Whimpers behind me draw my attention, and the other man cowers away from me as I move nearer to him.
Stopping a foot away, I pivot and debate my weapon choices, glancing between the pickaxe and baseball bat. I want this man to hurt. I want to rip his beating heart from his chest. I also find myself growing impatient to get back to my family.
Deciding on the axe, I heft it over my shoulder and turn, meeting Z’s gleeful gaze. I nod towards the wall with the chains dangling—the perfect fit for someone to receive a little pain without fighting his way out of it.
“Don’t do this,” the man whimpers as Z and Theias hoist him up to the wall. “Please, I was just taking orders… Like you.” He’s pleading with Z now. Little does he know, my friend couldn’t care less.
“Then you should be man enough to accept the consequences,” Theias growls, slamming the guy’s wrist against the wall after it’s cuffed. The snap of bone pleases me; the cowardly whimper annoys me all over again.
