A hefty slap on my back sends me reeling. “Ready for this?” Salem’s looking pumped.
“Asshole,” I hiss at him. The forward motion had had me stomping down hard on my not so good leg.
Unrepentant, he grins widely. “At least that asshole Stormy’s not around to spoil my fun this time.” He might sound confident, but still he shades his eyes, and looks around as if Stormy might be hiding unseen, ready to show off his sniper skills as he had with Alder.
As I straighten, I glance behind catching Lost’s eye, noticing his jaw is clenched. It will be a long time, if ever, before he forgives Stormy. While we’re all pretty certain any risk to his old lady died with Alder, it would be nice to have heard it from the man himself.
When we reach the soundproofed room at the end of the hangar, the brothers stand back so I, as the brother who’d suffered the most injury, can have the honour of being the first inside, well, the first, that is, besides the two prospects.
Owen never succeeded in pulling his pants all the way up, and no one, it appears, was inclined to help him. With the result, he’s strung up to an overhead beam with them precariously perched on his thighs. Having had insufficient time to pull on underwear, as soon as I walk in, I get an eyeful of his flaccid dick hanging down. Thinking of exactly where that dick had been on Friday night makes me see red.
I act on impulse, approaching him before I can have a second thought and punch him right in his junk.
Salem’s derisive snort, which tells me he’d planned to do that himself, is quickly drowned out as Owen takes in air, then lets out an ear-piercing scream and comically tries to bend his body to bring some relief to the pain in his balls which, already, are swelling to twice their size. His face is red, and his mouth opens and shuts. Under the t-shirt that clings to his sweat-dampened body, the muscles of his stomach visibly roll.
“Stand back, he’s going to hurl.”
Noting Pennywise’s warning, I, and my brothers, all give him a wide berth. Luckily, it’s not projectile, but bile dribbles out of his mouth, further moistening his shirt.
It takes a few minutes before he recovers his breath, and, once again, opens his eyes. They fall on me, his tormentor. “What have I ever done to you, man? I didn’t deserve that.”
Does he think I don’t know?
“Well, let me see.” I pull at one of my fingers. “First, you and Devon Starr conned me out of money.”
“I don’t know nothing about that.”
I leave his double negative response and continue counting off his crimes. “And then, you conned Alicia into giving up something worth so much more.”
His eyes crease with cunning. “Alicia’s my girlfriend.”
“Oh, Owen. You can do better than that.” I sigh deeply as though disappointed. “Alicia’s told me,” I indicate all the men standing around, “us, exactly what you did to her.”
“I did nothing she didn’t want!”
As I lurch forward, Salem tugs me off balance, holding me back. His strong arms hold me while I fight him.
“You’ll get your fuckin’ turn,” he hisses, his words bringing me back to myself.
When he feels me relax, he jerks his chin to the side. I move in the direction he indicated, allowing him to stand front and centre.
For a moment, he just eyes Owen. “Grumbler here has skin in the game. I don’t. So here’s your chance, Owen. Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll keep Grumbler away.”
Salem’s just stringing him along. While I’d rather be the man making Owen hurt, he knows what he’s doing. My punch to his junk will pale in comparison once the enforcer brings his toys into play.
“What…” Owen starts in a squeaky voice. “What do you want to know?” The sweat is pouring off his face, and only some of it is from fear, most from the throbbing going on in his groin. I’ve no sympathy, it’s less than he deserves.
“First,” Salem snaps, “who’s got the video?”
It’s plain as day that he wants to dodge its existence, but sensibly he decides there’s no point in a denial. He filmed their interaction, our words have shown we know it.
“I don’t know, man,” Owen cries. “I just get paid to play my role. And Alicia enjoyed it. Some women—” His words cut off. But he’s said enough for us to pick up on it.
“So, not your first rodeo?” Salem asks, taking a step closer. “You’ve starred in these films before?”
“Yeah, but there’s no harm in it.”
“No?” Salem asks, deceptively quiet. “You get paid, Owen?”
“Of course.” His face suggests he doesn’t think much of the suggestion that he’s doing it for nothing.
“Do the girls?”
“No.” His head, as much as it can move, tilts to the side, and his eyes crease in confusion.
“So what do they get out of it?” Salem advances another step.
“My cock,” Owen states, well, cockily.
The comment enrages me. Lost puts his hand on my arm and whispers hastily into my ear, “That man and his cock will soon be parted.”
I allow myself to be held back. It’s only that thought that keeps me rooted here.
A knife appears in Salem’s hand and almost quicker than the eye can follow the blade slams down into Owen’s thigh. He lets out another piercing scream which seems to go on forever.
“Your fuckin’ cock?” Salem spits at him. “They get more than that, don’t they? They also get threats of the video being widely distributed if they go to the cops and don’t keep their mouths shut.”
“I’m bleeding, man,” Owen wails. “I think you hit an artery. Do something, or I’m going to die.”
“You’re not going to die from that little cut. But you might if you don’t tell me what I want to know.” Salem growls, his voice, cold and menacing, a tone only he can achieve. I try, but while Salem can make people wet their
