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Fuck it. Fuck Tex and his eidetic memory and his trying to keep the peace. Fuck walking on eggshells around Callie any longer. I want this fucking done and I’m not waiting a goddamn week to start.
After Tex filled me in on Callie’s cognitive interview, I knew I needed to act. We might not know who the masked motorcyclist is, but we have a plan in place for the others and a list to work through. Along the way, I’m sure that someone will try to cut a deal in exchange for leniency. Won’t work, but they don’t have to know that until the last minute.
“You good to watch Cal?” I ask Tex. “Got a last minute job come in, needs two and I could really use East’s skill set.” I have no qualms with lying to Tex about this. I need to get started, and we’re not in a position to be able to leave Callie, so we can’t all go.
“Of course,” Tex replies. He glances at Callie’s door. “I think she’s out for the night but if she wakes up, I’ll distract her with a film or something.”
“Great.” I nod to him. Tex is the best with Callie. There was always a special bond there, but it’s stronger than ever since we got her back. She’s okay with East, but she definitely gives me a wider berth than she ever used to. Can’t pretend it doesn’t sting, but I will put things right with her. Later. First I need to put things right for her. “East? Let’s go.”
We stride out of the door, and East hops onto the back of my bike. I’m going to have to consider changing it if it’s a trigger for Callie. We take the short spin out to the ranch where our business is based, and switch out the bike for our van. It’s a nondescript black van, but inside it’s fully equipped with everything we need. I’ve carried out many a job in the back of this van, but it’s mostly used for transportation and disposal. East doesn’t ask any questions as we prepare, used to working in silence and knowing the plan. It’s only when I pick up the bag with all of our new special tools in it as we’re leaving, that he raises an eyebrow at me. But again, he says nothing. Wise.
We drive to our first mark’s house and when we pull up outside, East turns to me.
“What happened to waiting?” he asks.
“You feel like waiting after that CI?” I counter.
“Fair point.” He shrugs easily, on board. “Tex won’t be happy about this.”
“Tough shit,” I reply. I do not give a damn. “Let’s do this.”
We climb out of the van and noiselessly approach the small cottage. The mark tonight isn’t a big player in Callie’s abduction and imprisonment, but it’s a start. He’s simply the owner of the house where she was kept. The one we found abandoned with the scent of her shampoo still in the air. But there’s no way that fucker loans his house out to a gang dealing in sex trafficking without knowing about it, so he’s guilty as sin and about to meet his maker. Well, not too soon; I plan to have a little fun with him first.
I nod to East, and he splits off to cut the phone and internet connection. We may need the power, otherwise he’d cut it all. When he’s done, he rejoins me, and I easily pick the flimsy lock on the front door. Security here is non-existent, the owner obviously thinking he lives too far off the beaten track to be targeted or found. Think again.
We silently navigate our way through the lounge with purpose. Moving as if we own the place, we enter the kitchen and climb the staircase at the back of the property. We know exactly where we’re going; we’ve done our homework. At the top of the stairs, we cross the landing noiselessly, avoiding the creaky floorboards like the pros that we are – we’ve been here before. We come to rest at the bedroom door and I take a deep breath, ready. Behind this door is a sick and twisted monster. One of the many monsters responsible for taking and hurting Callie, for transforming her into someone unrecognisable.
And we have special plans for him.
I nod to East, and he kicks the door open noisily. It crashes against the wall, and the useless sack of shit in bed screams as he startles awake. Before he can make another sound, I pounce on him, crushing his windpipe with my forearm and watching his eyes go wild as he tries to place my face.
Of course, this guy has no idea who I am. But you can’t do his line of work, move in his circles, without constantly watching your back in fear. The shadows of his darkened past are coming back to haunt him now, he’s just trying to work out which particular one.
“I’m going to let you up in a moment. I don’t give a fuck if you yell, but you may want to save your vocal cords for when we really give you something to scream about.” The grin I give him is razor sharp and deathly cold. In a moment this guy will realise that East and I haven’t covered our faces. This isn’t a robbery gone wrong, we’re here for him. And we don’t plan to let him live to tell the tale.
I loosen my grip on his throat, still pinning him to the bed in case he runs. Sometimes the chase is fun, but not tonight. Tonight, I just need to hurt someone. To make them pay. And he’s our lucky guy.
“P-p-please,” the snivelling piece of shit begins to beg, scrambling to sit up and clutching the bedcovers to his chin like they’ll offer an ounce of protection. He shoots back into the corner, cowering against the wall because he doesn’t even have a headboard.
I hate the ones who beg. Usually, we’re swift and efficient at what we do; the mark is dead before they’ve even registered our presence, but occasionally the client calls for a little more flair in the act. Those jobs always carry the higher price tag, not because they’re riskier, but because the inevitable whiners, beggars and pleaders fuck me off. Already, with that one word, this guy has my rage boiling inside me like a pan threatening to overspill.
“P-p-please,” I mock, sneering cruelly at him as East sets up in the background. “Please what?” Cue the sad little attempt at negotiations.
“I have money! I can pay. A-a-and you can take anything you w-w-want from the house.”
Pathetic.
“Ah but what I desire isn’t in this house,” I taunt, leaning close to give him a hard look before winking pure ice at him. The whites of his eyes reflect the luminescence of his fear, but I know he’s not nearly scared enough. Not yet.
“I c-c-can get you any g-g-girl you want!” he cries, catching on to my meaning.
He can’t. He’s lying. Desperate to save his own skin. I doubt this guy could get me a takeaway, let alone one of the girls his company has on their extensive ‘menu’. Bile rises in my throat at the thought, but I have to push those feelings back down. It would be too easy to fly into an uncontrolled rage, but the cleanup after would be a bitch, and it isn’t fair to do that to East.
“The girl I want is dead,” I tell him flatly. She may as well be. The Callie I loved and lost is never coming back to me. “And it’s all your fault.”
“I’m just the driver!” His panic is palpable, tangible even. Suddenly he goes from the big I am, able to get me anything, to being ‘just’ the driver, frantic to diminish his role in this sick operation. As if driving girls to their doom isn’t worth comeuppance too.
“Oh, we know,” I lie. We didn’t know he was the driver, just that he was the owner of the holding house. “That’s why we’re just getting started with you.”
