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He quickly nodded his head. His eyes darted around the room, just like his housekeeper’s had. His feet slightly widened as if he was preparing to attack me or run. The men I’d cornered before always acted one of two ways: they reeked of the smell of fear and begged for mercy, or they underestimated me and put up a fight. I knew that the idiot would do the latter, and he would regret it.
“Let me show you why I don’t believe you,” I said. I pulled out the housekeeper’s cell phone and pulled up the thread between him and the phone’s owner. His eyes went wide for a moment before he recovered. My eyes never left his, and I kept my grip on the gun tight. I wouldn’t allow him to take it from me.
“It’s not what you think,” he implored. His feet shifted again, and his body pivoted just slightly. He was one step closer to making this worse for himself or getting a bullet in his head.
“It’s exactly what I think. The Reapers have me marked, and you thought you were about to deliver,” I goaded him. We needed as much information as this jerkwad would share.
“No, that’s not true,” he lied. He almost stumbled over his words. I could see his nervous persona slipping away, and resolve took its place. He was preparing for something.
“Do me a favor: don’t bother lying to me.” My voice turned cold, my favorite persona to slip into—cold, uncaring, and ruthless.
“What do you want?” he asked; his voice dropped and his upper body went rigid. His words filled with venom.
“I want to know everything you do about the Reapers.” My voice was so sharp and cold I almost wouldn’t have recognized it. It startled me the one time I heard my voice played back to me. It was the voice of someone not to be fucked with. Laced with danger and sadistic.
“What the fuck do you know about the Reapers?” His tone was poisonous. Too bad he’d never get close enough to inject me with his poison. I was already soiled and way more deadly. His fists clenched and released. He was backed into a proverbial corner and about to do something about it.Get ready.
“Enough to know that you’re one of them or doing their dirty work.” I rubbed the barrel of the gun under his chin, just to remind him it was there. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to lay your skeevy ass down on the bed. I’m going to tie you to it, and then you are going to tell me everything you know. If you don’t, there will be hell to pay.” My venom was scarier than his. He was stuck between a scary bitch holding a gun and a group who would put a bullet in his head to keep him silent. Me, on the other hand, I had a coward in front of me and everything to gain.
His eyebrow rose with surprise before he caught it, and his mouth set into a scowl. “Make me. I bet you don’t even know how to use that gun you’re holding.” His scowl was replaced by a cocky grin. He was goading me, and I had no problem proving him wrong.
I brought my knee up into his balls and my left hand circled his throat—immediately cutting off the inhale. I clicked the safety off and put it to his temple. My inner anger, that I sometimes had trouble reining in, wanted me to pull the trigger. If I let my emotions get the best of me, I would. But I wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. All the lives I’d taken were because there was no other way, it was me or them. He wasn’t a threat; I was.
“Let’s try this again. This time, you might not want to goad me. I have a whole arsenal of creative ideas on how to inflict pain. I’d love a volunteer to practice on,” I said with a sneer.
It felt good to let out this rage. I used my hand around his throat to guide him to the bed, where I pushed him down. He tried to reach for my hand with the gun, and I quickly pistol whipped him.
“Fuck!” he screamed out and tried to shove me off of him. His foot caught me in the stomach and nearly knocked the wind out of me. I applied more pressure at his throat, making sure that my nails sunk painfully into the flesh. I could feel his racing pulse beneath my fingers. It sent a thrill through me, which made it easier to recover from his kick. I pistol whipped him again, and he went slack for a moment as he was temporarily dazed.
With one hand, I secured a wrist to the headboard. It took me a bit longer than it normally would if I had two hands, even in his dazed state. I wouldn’t dare take my hand off my weapon, not even for a second. I got his other hand secured to the other side of the bed and took just a second to steady myself. Believe it or not, that was the easy part. The hard part was getting the man to talk more than he already had. It was obvious he knew something, and I was going to figure out what he knew, even if it took all night. I meant what I said; I had a whole slew of creative ideas on how to get it out of him. Were my methods legal? Absolutely not. Would I lose my job for this? It was very likely, if someone actually believed him. It would be my word versus his, and if I were him, I wouldn’t like his odds—not when he was being prosecuted for attempted sexual assault and kidnapping.
“Now that you’re comfortable,” I paused as I adjusted my robe, “it’s time to get chatty. Who is the leader of the Reapers?”
“I’ll tell you nothing,” he spat.
This was all part of my tactic to make him think I knew a lot more than I did. I wanted him to think I was fishing for the tiniest details. Really any details he provided would help fill in what was missing of the big picture. I’d have to answer my own questions for a little while, but that was all right; I liked hearing myself talk.
“That’s okay. I know his name is Ricketts,” I said with a shrug of my shoulder.
His eyebrows raised in surprise for a moment before he regained control. Instead, his face returned to a mask of hate and disgust. Goody, the feeling was mutual.
“Want to tell me about the companies he owns?” I asked.
“I don’t know anything about any companies,” he said as he shook his head. I traced the barrel of the gun up his leg and was strategically close to something he wouldn’t want to lose.
“Ah, so you’re telling me that as the manager at all three of the resorts right here on this strip of the island you know nothing about the shell company that owns them?” I asked, answering another one of my questions.
He simply gulped in response, his eyes not leaving the gun at his groin for a second. Despite the position he was in, I saw a bulge form in his pants.
“Interesting…” I said, waiting to see what reaction I would get next.
I used the grip of the gun to hit him in the balls again, and he howled out in pain. When he was done screaming, he cried out, “Look, lady, I don’t know what you want from me!”
“I’ve made it very clear what I want. Everything you know about the Reapers.” I climbed onto the bed and straddled the man, taking advantage of his traitorous body. Did I want to touch him? Not really, but I needed to paint a picture of mental instability. I did a lot worse than sit on the lap of some fucked-up guys to get the information I needed while undercover. That was easy-peasy.
I wanted him to think he would never have me figured out. Men feared what they couldn’t understand. If they realized they couldn’t anticipate my next move, it generally caused more fear. Sitting on his lap and teasing him sexually, while simultaneously causing him pain, would confuse the fuck out of him, get him flustered, and then he’d slip up.
“It sounds like you already know a lot,” he said through gritted teeth. I was sure his balls were hurting a whole hell of a lot right now.
