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I grin, nearly turned on at the devilish glint in her eyes. It’s the first time she’s been honest about what Ray deserves, and fuck does it do something to me.
“I will.”
Feeling like a valet attendant, I drive the van back to the delivery bay and park. The kitchen staff are all back at work, but they know the score and keep their eyes on what they’re doing. There’s not an employee in this place who hasn’t had the fear of God instilled in them about minding their own business. In exchange, they’re paid well and have excellent benefit packages.
Walking into the pantry, I release the secret door and walk down the steep stairs.
“About time you joined the party,” Lucky says, looking bored.
“Had to get my girl right first.”
“I love Navy and all, but you’re kinda turning into a little bitch,” he jokes.
“Fucker.” I approach Ray, who’s lying on his back, groaning in pain. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this.”
“You’ll regret it,” he says lamely.
Walking over to the stainless-steel tool shed in the corner, I dig out my ropes and wrap them around my knuckles, making sure Ray can see what I’m doing. “There are a lot of options for rope these days, but I prefer a good quarter-inch manila. It has a classic look and feel, holds knots well, and is known for its strength and flexibility.”
As if suddenly realizing there’s no way out of this, Ray mumbles, “Just get it over with.”
I shrug and toss one end of the rope over the top of a wooden beam that travels the length of the ceiling. This is my first time using this room, so I test the strength of the beam, making sure it’ll hold before going through the ritual of tying a hangman’s knot.
“Doesn’t that ever get boring?” Lucky asks.
“No,” I deadpan. “If you want to help, you can stack some of that wood over there.”
Lucky retrieves some of the two-by-fours and places them on top of each other. “There.”
“Help me get him up.”
We struggle a little because, not surprisingly, Ray isn’t all that compliant. Eventually, we get him standing on the wood and the noose around his neck. Right now, the game isn’t hard. All he has to do is stand flat-footed on the boards.
“Apologize,” I say.
“For what?” he spits out. “Turning you into a man and not some pussy who doesn’t know how to take a hit?”
With the toe of my boot, I kick one of the boards out from under him, throwing his balance off a bit. On instinct, he reaches up with his hands still cuffed together, forgetting he still has a knife in his shoulder. He grapples for balance while howling in pain. It’s like music to my fucking ears.
“Motherfucker,” he curses, finding purchase.
“Apologize,” I repeat.
“For beating your ass or fuckin’ your sister?”
Something dark roars to life inside me, but I tamp it down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing how pissed off I am. Instead, I casually kick another board out from under him. He’s on his tiptoes now, sweating like a pig, his face contorted into something ugly.
“Apologize.”
“I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”
This is why I do this. I don’t just want to kill him; I want him to be so desperate he’ll swallow his pride and die knowing his last moments were spent being pitiful and weak. I keep him there, struggling to stay alive for a long while, soaking up the moment and basking in the control I have over him.
The veins in his forehead protrude as he flexes his jaw to keep the rope from cutting off his air supply. The tips of his work boots are barely connecting with the wood now. All it would take is one small misstep, and he’d take care of the job himself.
But I don’t want that. His death belongs to me. I’ll be the one sending him to meet the Reaper, so I push one more board out from under him, causing him to lose his footing. His legs kick out violently, and despite the pain, he reaches to his neck, desperately trying to keep the rope from choking him out.
It’s useless, though. His mouth opens to suck in a breath, but there’s no air to be found. It’s not a pretty death, but it’s goddamn beautiful to me as his eyes bulge and his face and neck turn an unnatural red. Blood trickles from his ear as his hands go limp and his legs lose their fight, dangling uselessly.
