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I nod, grinning maliciously, and pull my jacket off. I actually like it and don’t want blood staining it.
* * *
Two hours later, and I’m still working away at Vin. None of the others are willing to talk except for one, the sober asshole, all blubbering so far.
Tristan and Nicholas already put a bullet in both the other two dumbasses. Rémy and Félix have been standing over the sober one while I work over Vin.
The sober one speaks up finally when Félix slices off one of his ears and tosses it to me. I shove that body part in Vin’s mouth and make him swallow it.
“She’s at a warehouse,” the guy cries, eyes wide staring at Vin’s mangled body. “Boss keeps her in a room locked up, only brings her out when he’s ready to toy with her. Sometimes it’s once a day, other times it’s more. Two or three times at best.”
“Address?” I demand snarling.
He gives it to us, and I nod.
Finally, I give Vin one last punch to the face and pull my gun out from the waistband of my jeans. I press the muzzle straight to his dick and pull the trigger. “That’s for your comment about wanting to tap Désirée and calling her a bitch,” I sneer and bring the gun up to his forehead. “This is for everything else.” I press against the trigger blowing his brains out.
“Damn, and I thought I was fuckin’ messy,” Breaker comments from behind me, leaning against his shelf of toys.
“Don’t worry about the mess. We’ll get the prospect in here and grind them all up. Bart’s got a feast for at least a week. Maybe more.” Tyres snorts.
“Shit, he’s got enough for a month,” Pitch Black adds and looks between the five of us. “You need medical assistance, Angelina says, bring her here, and she’ll help. She’s off for the next week.”
“Thanks,” Félix says, holding a hand out to shake Pitch Blacks.
“No problem,” he mutters and jerks his chin to the door. “Chains said he’s getting a few brothers ready to ride out. Make sure you all get Désirée back. Fuse is with him.”
Nodding, I head for the door. My only thought right now is getting out of here and getting to that warehouse.
Stepping out of the boathouse, I look up at the still-dark sky and release a breath. “Don’t worry, Désirée. We’re coming for you”,” I murmur to the stars. Why? I don’t even fucking know.
