Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
One of the others grunted. “I’ll take what I’m owed, but please, for the love of God, don’t make me die next to this fuckin’ dumbass.”
“I can understand your frustration, but the rules are --”
“Yeah, yeah. Ride with a dumbass, die with a dumbass.” He sighed. “Just tell me what you need to know so we can get this over with.”
“Wow.” Roman scrubbed a hand over his neck. “Wasn’t expecting common sense.”
“My loyalty is to money. Where I’m goin’, I ain’t gonna need it. I ain’t going to be tortured if I can avoid it. That means I spill my guts, that’s what I’m doin’.”
The first guy pissed himself and whimpered, but thankfully didn’t beg. I’d have hated to gag a man for begging for his life, but I’d do it. The mere fact he’d been in this group, no matter what his involvement, negated his getting to live.
About that time, Smoke shoved a man inside the room. His hands were zip-tied behind his back, and there was a hood over his head. Must have been gagged too because his voice was muffled, and he wasn’t able to form intelligible words. Morgue followed soon after, shutting and locking the door behind him.
“That one’s a real freak,” Morgue said, pointing at their captive. “He was nibbling on this.” Morgue tossed what looked like a strip of fried pork skin inside a plastic bag to Sting. “I’m not an expert, but I’m pretty sure that’s not pig skin.”
For a moment, what Morgue was saying didn’t register. “Who gives a fuck what it is?” I shook my head. “Why would I care what this pissant had for a snack?”
Morgue leveled a look on me, his expression flat when I was sure he was more than a little frustrated with my answer. “Brick. Think about it. His name’s the Cannibal.”
I glanced at Sting, then Roman. Roman went white, then his face flushed red and his gaze turned murderous. He approached the guy and whipped off the hood. Morgue and Smoke tossed a chain over the rafters and fastened his wrist to it with thick cuffs. They pulled the chain until his feet dangled a couple of inches above the floor like the others. Roman waited patiently for his answer when I knew he wanted to kill the motherfucker.
“Whatcha snackin’ on?” Roman’s grin wasn’t pleasant. His tone made it sound like he was really interested when it was obvious he was on the edge of killing.
“Number One.” His eyes were wild, and his gaze darted continuously around the room. He looked like he might be high. “I’ve already consumed all I had of Number Two.”
Roman tilted his head to the side, trying to work out what the crazy bastard meant. “The fuck?”
“He means me, Roman.” Winter. I’d forgotten the women were anywhere close. I hadn’t accompanied Serelda or her sister, but I’d known they were going to be here. They’d insisted. Normally, that wouldn’t have swayed Sting if he thought it wasn’t in their best interest, but he needed the women to confirm this Cannibal was the one who’d terrorized them thirteen years ago.
“What?” Roman turned to his wife, stepping away from the guy automatically. When torturing someone, it’s best to not get too close when you’re distracted. These people knew they were going to die, so they had nothing to lose.
“Me. I’m Number One.” Winter held out her wrist for Roman to see. I moved to look, and my blood froze.
“I thought that was the letter ‘I.’” Roman shook his head, obviously not believing what he was seeing.
Then Serelda stepped forward as well, her other arm held out for me. Her gaze was fastened on the Cannibal. “I’m Number Two.” On her wrist, a scar I’d traced with my lips many times since we’d become intimate, was the Roman numeral two.
I looked up at Serelda, horror washing through me like a tidal wave. My grip on her wrist tightened, and I pulled her to me. Roman went so far as to pick up Winter and head toward the door with her.
“Roman, put me down.” Winter’s voice was soft, but insistent.
“No fuckin’ way, Winter. Out you go.”
“Roman.” Something in Winter’s voice must have clued Roman in to the fact that his woman wasn’t leaving. He stopped and gave her a frustrated look, his jaw ticking like a son of a bitch.
“No, Winter. I’m not givin’ you this.”
“Yes, you are. You’re going to put me down and let me be with my sister.”
I wanted to tell Winter that she and her sister could be together. Outside the barn. But I knew better. Neither woman would leave until they were good and ready.
Serelda opened her mouth, probably to agree with her sister, but I leaned in to kiss her. “I know, little warrior. Sting let you in. He’ll have to be the one to put you out.”