Total pages in book: 174
Estimated words: 159159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
“What he’s sayin’ in a nice way,” Maestro said, “is don’t pretend to be a hero. Answer the fuckin’ questions so he can get back to his woman.”
Rich Marshal had been the driver of the pickup truck that had been following Jarvis and Kent to ensure that no one was tailing them before the men met up with Paul Bitters for the auction.
Rich looked at Bitters and shook his head. “I don’t know what you want from me. I was hired to tail a couple of guys, make sure no one followed them. Your friend ran me off the road and I ended up here. That’s it. I don’t know anything else.” His gaze shifted from Bitters to Savage and immediately he looked leery.
Savage sat on the edge of a table where all kinds of tools were laid out. He calmly took a bite out of an apple. “Waste of time, Ice. Fuckin’ waste of time.” He didn’t look up as he gave his two cents.
Ice barely moved, but when he did, his speed was blurring. He slammed a knife straight down into Rich’s thigh, burying it to the hilt. The blade was only a couple of inches long, but it was wide, and it was sharp, slicing through skin and muscle like it was butter. Rich screamed. Paul Bitters paled and drew back, trying to throw himself sideways out of his chair.
Ice ignored both reactions, shaking his head as he pulled the blade slowly from Rich’s thigh. “Don’t like lies, Richie. I can hear them. I can feel them. I can even smell them. You like little kids, and Bitters supplies you with them. I already know that about you.”
Code had been busy getting as much information on Marshal as possible, even while he was doing the paperwork to ensure Ice and Soleil could get married legally. Rich Marshal was every bit as dirty as Paul Bitters. He might not be as high up the ladder in the pedophile network as Bitters, but he had been working within the ring for some time. He preferred girls, he liked them six to eight. When they got too old, he sold them either in online auctions or to a trafficking ring.
“You’re married to a woman with three little girls, ages three, five and seven. You’ve been molesting the seven-year-old for two years already. Your wife suspects but she’s afraid of you, but not so afraid that she didn’t try to leave you once. You made certain she didn’t try again by making a video of her with two men and threatening to put it online. One of those men is a good friend of yours, Yeger Kushnir, and he, along with Basil Alanis, raped your wife. She cooperated and stayed with you, but you put that video online anyway. A friend of ours found it and took it apart. He saw things no one got to see, such as her fighting and then cooperating when you threatened the girls. What I learned from that, Richie, is that you’re a fuckin’ liar and you don’t keep your word.”
Bitters cleared his throat. “You don’t seem to understand—”
Ice spun around and backhanded him so forcibly it knocked him over, chair and all. Despite the fact that a tarp lay on the floor, Bitters slammed hard into the cement floor. “I wouldn’t speak if I were you,” Ice warned. “I don’t like you. I don’t like anything about you. You locked that little boy in the basement inside a cage with a bomb on it after you molested him for years. You don’t want my attention if you can help it, so shut the fuck up.”
He didn’t right the chair, just left the man lying on the cement floor, because he wasn’t kidding or trying to be intimidating. He wanted to fuck Bitters up, slice off his dick and shove it down the man’s throat until he choked and suffocated. He’d told Savage and Maestro that before coming. Maestro and Savage didn’t make a move to help Bitters either. They left him lying on his side, still tied to the chair. Ice turned back to Marshal, dismissing Bitters as if he didn’t exist.
“Let’s try again, Richie, and keep in mind, I’m on a time limit here. I ask you a question, you jack me around and I’m going to get creative where I put my blades.” He watched the man’s eyes widen and he nodded. “I believe we understand each other. I’m looking for the name of the man who is the collector. He scouts for a small family, either a single mother or parents without any other family members. They have a toddler, boy or girl, doesn’t matter. He takes pictures of these children and then sends out a little brochure. I know this is familiar to you. If it is to me, then it has to be to you.”