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I feel a warmth spreading throughout my body at the sight of Neil shaking. Reaching for my phone in my dress pocket, I open my music player and make sure the song he hates so much is on repeat before placing the device on the washing machine.
My partner in crime rechecks Neil’s cuffs before giving me another toe-curling kiss. “I love you, Mia.” Then he tilts his head to the side and whispers directly into my ear, “If any of this gets to be too much, just leave. You don’t have to say or do anything. I got you, babe.”
Wrapping my arms tighter around Coen’s neck, I murmur, “I love you, too, Coen.”
I don’t know if he’s guessed what I plan on doing. I kind of hope he hasn’t, while knowing he probably has. It doesn’t matter. Even if he knows he won’t stop me, especially not in front of Neil.
Coen is the one who’s preached about always showing a united front when we’re in the basement. If one of us disagrees, we need to leave and discuss it later. He’s gone to great lengths to make sure I understand we can’t bicker or undermine each other in front of our prisoner.
Appearances are everything, and it’s partly why Coen lets me call the shots. Neil must know that I’m the one running this show, something he still hasn’t grasped, and it irks me.
How dare he not cower before me as I’ve done in front of him?
It surprises me that I can’t feel Amanda in my mind. I thought she’d be here with me however, she’s nowhere to be seen or felt. As I consider this, I realize that she’s never really around when my guys are, which I hope is a good thing.
Neil wags a finger in Coen’s direction. “I’ll give you one last chance to do the right thing. I’m not alone in this, and my associate won’t take kindly to you touching what’s his.”
There it is. He’s said something similar before, and I ignored it. We all did.
Reacting purely on instinct, I forget Coen’s instruction about not letting Neil bait me into asking the most important question first. “Who’s your associate?” I immediately regret my outburst, and to cover up the importance, I mock him. “Don’t tell me it’s the Boogeyman, or maybe Jason Vorhees?”
I roll my eyes just as Coen snorts, completely ignoring Neil. “Tell us the game rules again, Mia,” Coen says.
Letting my lips curl up in a sadistic smile, I say, “It’s simple. You remove one of his nails every time he either refuses to answer a question or lies.”
“And how many attempts does he get?”
I look down at Neil and address him. “Twenty, you have twenty rounds. That seems fair, doesn’t it?” I don’t expect a reply, so I’m not surprised when all my former boss does is look at me like I’m crazy.
“What happens after?” Neil asks, making me straighten and mentally pat myself on the shoulder for finally getting his attention.
“That depends whether you answer any of our questions,” I deadpan. “If you do, you’ll be allowed to leave.” I let the promise hang in the air, wanting Neil to hear the sincerity in my voice.
Having had enough of this mindless talking, I shove one hand into my pocket and turn up the music, greedily drinking in the twitches from Neil. Now that we’re not sparring and I’m not talking to him, I can really see the toll all of this is taking on him. His skin has become sickly looking, he’s shivering and cold, and the evil gleam in his eyes is long gone. Replaced by something akin to defeat.
With shaking hands, I move to the corner of the basement, no longer within reach of Coen or Neil, and I sit down on the floor. Crossing my legs, I lean against the wall and wait for Coen to ask the first question.
“Why did you cut Kas’ brakes?”
“Fuck you!” Neil spits.
Closing my eyes, I brace myself for what’s coming. A howl of pain reverberates through the basement, the sound ricocheting off the walls. Unable to keep my eyes closed, I open them, and with equal parts disgust and amazement, I watch Coen slowly work the sharp tool beneath Neil’s thumbnail.
“If I were you, I’d sit still. You wouldn’t want the tool to slip,” Coen deadpans while Neil thrashes in an attempt to get away from my sexy as fuck torturer.
Even though I don’t know how long it normally takes to remove a nail, I can’t imagine it’s as long as Coen makes it last. The ‘Thong Song’ plays seven times before Coen pulls the bloody nail from the tip of Neil’s thumb, making him let out a guttural cry.
“Shhh, don’t scream yourself hoarse now, there are still nineteen left.” The cruel smirk on Coen’s lips doesn’t match his light and playful tone.
“No more, I’m… I’m…”
Narrowing my eyes, I interrupt Neil. “Don’t you dare apologize. You’re not sorry, you’re only regretting being careless. Don’t you fucking dare insult me by fake apologizing.” I can’t be certain that’s what he intended to say, but if it is, I don’t want to hear it.
He hasn’t earned the right. He killed Mark, and no apology will ever bring him back or make it okay, so why should I entertain it?
“Let’s try this again. Why did you cut Kas’ brakes?” Coen asks.
This time, Neil answers. “I didn’t, it wasn’t me!”
