A few men had threatened to do worse to her than I had.
Those had made me smile.
Like I said, risky, because males were beyond my control. The adrenalin was making my heart thud like a racehorse on the gallop. It made me feel alive.
I could almost… almost hear her whimpers, her begging. She was mute, but sometimes I could swear I heard her thoughts.
“What was that Red? Want to come? Want me to call them back?”
I’d screw her one more time then tow her back to the car, messed up, horny, and scared.
Most days I kept her a little spacey. Not today.
Her next whimper was audible. I wished I had a drink, or something stronger, except I didn’t use drugs. I couldn’t know for certain what weird effects drugs would have on me. Wolfe had drummed that in.
At the sound of hard shoes walking into the alley, Red’s fingers shifted on the door.
Three men advanced, hands loose at their sides, all of them bulky guys. I assessed them – they were determined and quiet in their approach.
My risks may have come home to roost.
My heartbeat stepped up the power, thudding at my chest. This was surely what living should be? I’d discovered a new kink. I slipped a hand into a pocket and found the flick knife. Then I stepped out, shielding Red from their view, ready for them, or so I hoped. Uncertainty was both a bitch and what was making my exhilaration climb. For once, I didn’t know the outcome.
“Not for sale, guys. Just a little fun for me.”
“Hey.” The one on my right held up a hand. “No worries. You sure though? She looks tasty as fuck.”
“No.” I smiled. “Just no.”
“A little group sexy-times?” The far-left one did a hip sway and grind while grinning.
“N—”
Simultaneously, they dived on me. The heavy gut punch then a head punch, then a throat punch, landed one-two-three, before I could pull the knife. I was spinning to the floor, gasping, throat rasping… and something bashed at the back of my head….
More blows landed.
My last thought: Red.
Darkness cascaded.
CHAPTER 2
ISAK
I woke, sitting, tied to chair. Classic gangster move. Despite the painful thumping inside my skull, I tried to make sense of the dim room.
Thud-thud. Thud-thud.
The pain closed me down again before I wriggled up through the black. Blinking, I cleared my throat.
“Hey. He’s awake.”
Someone brought another chair over and sat facing me. He was tallish, tattooed, and shaved almost bald. His dark T-shirt sleeves struggled to contain his biceps. His broad hands splayed on the thighs of his jeans and he cocked his head slightly, studying me. To either side of me other men stood – guards, clearly. The room though, it was opulent.
This was a living room with gray sofas, downlights, red-shaded standing lamps, cream walls lined with paintings, and sculptures on columns.
If this was his house, he was at least mildly well-off.
“You were a hard man to track down, sir.” His voice surprised me. Rugged, cracked, but deep and slow to get the words out. As if he had all the time in the world to do whatever shit he had in mind.
I twitched my mouth. Already I could tell my headache wasn’t going away fast. Nausea lurked at the edges, bulging and worming into my stomach. The room felt unsteady under my bare feet. They’d removed my shoes but nothing else. From the sharper pain in my right temple, I had a cut there.
I squeezed my eyes shut, then open again.
“We’ll get that fixed.” He nodded at my forehead. “I’ll even have you untied, if you convince me you’re sensible?”
I shrugged. “What do you want?”
“Andy was my man. Well, he sometimes did jobs for me. You killed him.”
Oh. Him.
“He was sending that chat to me when you drowned him.”
That cellphone… Definitely him. “I did not touch him.”
“Yeah, yeah. You can call me… Ted.” He shifted, raised a finger. “Bring me a beer.” Someone walked away.
We both waited, studying each other, though I pretended to be having problems focusing and keeping my eyes open – which was not difficult to do since it was close to the truth. The man returned and handed my friendly interrogator, Fake Ted, a beer.
After one swig, he leaned in and let the bottle hang between his knees by finger and thumb.
“I know what you can do. Clearly, you can even get the ladies to kill for you. Die for you. And to fucking forget what happened or why. I have some info from the cop interview. The manager can’t even remember you were there. She has no prior record. An honest, unsullied citizen, and you left her confused as fuck.” He shook his head. “Stunning.”
I grunted, feeling as if I should contribute something. Ted had quite the vocab for a tattooed criminal.
From somewhere outside – a playground maybe – came the muffled laughter of a child. It seemed the essence of irony, considering this cunt would probably hurt me if I thwarted him.
“So, promise me we will have that talk you deprived Andy of, and I’ll get you untied. I will get your head looked at.”
The zip ties weren’t coming off without a cutter, and I was severely outnumbered. “Sure. We can talk.”
“Do it.” He whistled to his henchlings. “And get that doctor in here. She said she needed to check his thick head.”
One of his men went behind me and reached down to snip
