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“Billy . . . Baxter.”
“Good. I’m going to ask you some questions and you have two choices. One, you can answer them to my satisfaction and I’ll kill you quickly.” I bent near the man’s face. “Or two, you can refuse to tell me what I want to know and I will peel the skin from your bones. It’s your choice..”
The man’s eyes were clouded with pain but coherent. He understood the offer. “Don’t kill me. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
I dragged over a chair. Then I sat, took out my long knife, and held it loosely in one hand to serve as a reminder. “Who paid you to wait in that building and kidnap her?”
“I-I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer.”
I leaned down, ready to slice, when the man shouted, “Wait!”
I paused and snarled, “Start fucking talking.”
“I didn’t get his name.” Grimacing, he closed his eyes and panted. “But I know he w-works for Walsh.”
Exactly as I’d thought. “You said, ‘I wonder how much he’ll pay to get you back.’ Who is ‘he’?”
“Ransom her . . . to you.”
I nodded. “Where were you supposed to take her?”
“Bank Street.”
“The address?”
“Thirty-one.”
I glanced at Charlie, who turned on his heel and went up the stairs. We would find Walsh and this building, and I would have vengeance on every single person involved.
“Is there anything else you can tell me? About the plan, about what Walsh intended?”
“No, sir. I told you all I know.”
I rose, removed my coat, and rolled my sleeves high on his forearms while the man on the ground watched, his expression twisted in pain and uncertainty. Then I lifted the chair and placed it against the wall. “You put your hands on her. You scared her. Worst of all, you nearly killed her. For that, I have no mercy. No forgiveness. So I’ve changed my mind. I won’t kill you quickly.”
Crouching, I put the tip of the knife directly against the man’s balls. “This will be slow. And it will be fucking painful.”
For the next hour, the only sounds coming from inside the room were screams.
By the time I finished, I was covered in blood and my body hummed with dark energy. “Dispose of him,” I told Matty. “I have to clean up and get back upstairs.”
“Have you told her about her father yet?”
I didn’t answer. There was a spigot in the cellar with running water, so I used it to wash off. Once I bathed, I put on a clean shirt and trousers, not bothering with a vest and coat in my haste to return to Belle.
As I climbed the stairs, I heard a commotion in the saloon. Damn it. Was there a fight going on? Exhausted and annoyed, I stomped into the main room—and halted.
Belle was there, sitting on top of the wooden bar, laughing with my men, a queen holding court. She was dressed in her gown, her hair piled neatly atop her head, every inch a lady.
Mylady.
I grew hot, jealousy building like a frenzy in my blood. I wanted to rip her away from their appreciative gazes and take her back upstairs, keep her just to myself.
“Bax!” She grinned when she saw me. “Come have a drink with us!”
As if they could sense my mood, my men sank lower, hunching, as they slowly turned toward me. My expression had them scurrying off to other parts of the building, leaving Belle alone.
