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“Who sent you?”
He shakes his head, “They’ll kill me.”
Arching an eyebrow at him, I say, “I would be a little more concerned about the man standing in front of you right now if I were you. They won’t get the chance to kill you. However, I will.”
Does he think there is any chance I’ll let him go? I won’t. Once they find their way into my basement, it’s game-fucking-over. Their only choice is to lessen the pain by giving me the information I want. Either way, he’s a dead man.
“Start talking.”
A tear runs down his cheek as he trembles on my table, again, he shakes his head.
I’m not surprised. They normally need pain before they’re motivated to spill their guts. And he will spill his guts both literally and figuratively.
“Alright then, bad guy.”
I grab my knife and cut the center of his sweatshirt open.
Standing back, I rub my fingers over my chin while contemplating how I want to do this. I could use my torch, which is always fun. Maybe cut him with my knife. Shoot him in the knees. No, that's boring.
His expression turns to a terrified one when I start whistling.
“Why are you whistling?”
I chuckle, “Have you ever heard the saying, ‘find a job you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life’?”
He doesn’t answer, so I go back to whistling as I step toward him, hunting knife in hand, and cut his left nipple off.
Bad guy screams his fucking head off. Blood runs from his skin onto the table. I watch in delight.
“Who sent you?”
He bites his lip as more tears fall down his stubble-covered cheeks.
I cut down his chest, more screaming and thrashing.
“You can stop this at any time by answering my fucking questions.”
When I run the blade across his cheek, he breaks.
“Your fa-fa-father,” he stutters.
I haven’t seen that dick in a decade. Why would he put a hit out on me?
“Why would he send you to kill me?”
He shakes his head, “I wasn’t sent to k-k-kill you. I was looking for information.”
I drag my hand across my jaw, “Information?”
Bad guy wails and says, “Work information. That’s why I was outside your office.”
“What information specifically?”
Blood runs from his cheek into his mouth, so he turns his head, “I don’t know anything else. He didn’t tell me anything. Just to find anything regarding your work.”
“Close your eyes.”
He shakes uncontrollably on the table, “Why?”
