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Paul chose the middle finger.
“Did you hire someone to stalk Payton?” I ask.
Again, he doesn’t answer.
“Guess he loses another one,” Lorenzo says, and my friends laugh. It is loud and raucous. Borderline obnoxious.
The sound echoes across the warehouse. It sounds like there are more than us here. Like a viewing room to Paul’s pain.
“Tell us what we want to know,” I press.
“Maybe you should ask better questions,” he spits back.
“Or maybe we should try better forms of torture.” Lorenzo walks over to the pliers on the table, and I know he’s about to rip Paul’s fingernails out one by one.
Then after, he’ll probably cut his fingers off.
Fuck.
I should never get on Lorenzo’s bad side.
I widen my stance, crossing my arms. “Just tell us what we want to know.”
“I didn’t try to kill your bitch,” Paul snaps with a dry laugh. “That would have been too easy.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I kick his chair, stepping on the bottom leg to straighten it just before he starts to fall.
He shakes his head. “I know all about your girl, but I wasn’t the one to run her stupid ass over.”
I walk over to the table and reach for the gun. I’m sick of this shit.
“Talk.” I check the chamber and cartridge for bullets, finding them exactly where I need them. “Tell me what you know about Payton’s accident.”
“Running her over isn’t my style. What I had planned for your whore after what you did was way worse.”
I’m not much for violence, but this asshole . . . He deserves the worst hell can deliver. I can’t help it as I reach out and smack the fucker in the face with the butt of the gun. His head rears back from the impact.
“Yeah, big guy, what plan is that—”
“I would have used the goods, hard, before selling her sorry ass to the highest bidder.” He grins despite the blood staining his teeth.
I act, moving back toward where he’s tethered and punch him. My fist connects with his face. A loud crunch is followed by a rush of blood as I break his nose.
Turning to Lorenzo, I look at him for what he thinks. I might not know Paul, but it doesn’t add up. He’s quick to tell us what he wanted to do, proud even, so why won’t he admit to running her over?
It doesn’t make sense.
It isn’t him.
Yeah, he still needs to die for even thinking about hurting Payton. But maybe he’s not the person we’re looking for.
I nod at Lorenzo.
He knows what he has to do.
Without another word to Paul, I walk out of the warehouse and toward my car.
I don’t need to see him die.
