Chapter Twenty-Seven
James
The plan was to get to Sadie’s house as early as possible so I could remind her who is allowed to worship at her altar before she walks into what is surely a trap set by Bowie. But, unfortunately, that won’t be happening. Not with the two bloody men locked in my best friend’s girlfriend’s basement.
“Remind me again who they are and why they’re here,” I tell Theo.
He sneers at the captives, one of whom is tied to the chair bolted into the floor. The same chair I saw all those months ago that made me certain Theo’s stalker wasn’t as innocent as she appeared to be.
The other captive is standing at the other end of the basement.
Although standing probably isn’t the right word, as he’s practically hanging, hands chained together and locked into hooks on the ceiling I hadn’t noticed when I originally snuck into June’s house.
The man is stretched out, so I’m sure his shoulders are screaming in pain, his toes barely skimming the floor.
Both are bruised and bloody, showing signs of a recent beating.
“Kip and I caught these two trying to sell in our territory. We were following that one,” he points to the one in the chair. “He’s one of the guys who was going to the meeting about getting into the international skin trade business.”
I look at the guy sitting down and am overcome with a desire to lodge a stick of dynamite in his mouth and light it. “What were they selling? Drugs?”
Theo shakes his head. “Girls.”
I let out a low whistle. “And they’re still alive?”
“I want to know more about the plans to expand the Fivers’ slavery work. And if they know anything about Matthew and who specifically killed him.”
“We need answers and leverage,” Kip adds.
He’s standing a few feet away, right at the edge of the basement steps.
He was already here when I arrived a few minutes ago, and he couldn’t look more uncomfortable if he tried.
His eyes keep moving from the men to the bolted chair to the chains to the drop sheets laid out to catch any DNA that may fall from the captives.
Kip might’ve known what June is before, but this is his first time seeing evidence of it.
“Does June know you’re here?” I ask.
He shudders. Maybe spending so much time with her, and having recently had the pleasure of fucking her best friend senseless, has numbed me to the reality of June Graves. But seeing a seasoned head road captain literally shudder in fear at the mention of her puts it back into perspective.
“She said I could bring them here,” Theo says, jutting his chin in the direction of the Fivers. The one hanging from the ceiling lets out a groan of pain. The other still seems passed out. “And she knows Kip was with me when I found them.”
“So, she doesn’t know Kip is here?”
Theo’s expression tells me that no, he didn’t explicitly tell his girlfriend that he let not one but two of his buddies into her secret kill room. “I’ll tell her.”
“Please don’t,” Kip says. “I’m happy to leave.”
I smirk. “She’ll know you were here either way.”
“What? Why?” He sounds so shocked and scared that I almost laugh. Then he turns his indignation on Theo. “You told me there weren’t any cameras or anything around here.”
“There aren’t.”
“She’ll be able to smell you,” I say, nearly laughing at how his face drains of what little color it had.
He takes a small step backward, as if preparing to flee up the stairs.
The man can face down a gang of murdering psychos and happily engages in highly illegal and dangerous activities on the regular, but the mention of a five-and-a-half-foot therapist makes him nearly faint from terror.
“She’s not a fucking bloodhound,” Theo says.
“Okay, she won’t smell you. But T will undoubtedly tell her everything that happens.”
Kip turns his wide eyes to Theo, who grimaces and shrugs in response. I think everyone has needed time to adjust to our new reality that we’re now second on the list of our president’s priorities. He has an ol' lady, and that changes things.
“It’ll be fine, Kip,” Theo says. “June isn’t stupid. She knew I’d bring you when I asked.”
“Don’t let her kill me.”
Theo gives him an evil smile. “I’ll ask nicely, but she doesn’t like being told what to do.”
I laugh at the absolute fear on Kip’s face. Then, suddenly, both his and Theo’s expressions morph into shock as they turn their attention to me. “What?”
“You’re laughing,” Theo says.
“Sorry?”
“You’re not exactly the laughing type,” Kip says.
“I laugh.”
“Maybe once a year. Is everything okay? Did you get hit too hard at the gym?” Theo asks.
I scowl and cross my arms. “Can we focus on the more pressing problem?”
Both take a moment longer to scrutinize me before caving and turning to the prisoners.
Letting out an internal sigh of relief, I try not to analyze the reason for my newfound sense of humor.
But I don’t have to for an explanation to present itself in the shape of memories of Sadie’s expressive golden eyes, honey-covered laugh, and perfect pussy swallowing me whole.
“James, care to help me over here?” Theo asks, stalking over to the hanging captive. He reaches out and pushes the man, causing him to sway back, the chains clinking together. The man groans under the fresh wave of pain that I’m sure just shot down his arms and shoulders.
“How long has he been hanging there?”
“Only an hour.”
Any other day, I might’ve felt sympathy, but this guy is a Fiver, and those assholes have a lot to answer for.
“Buddy, wake up,” I say, slapping his cheek. “We have questions.”
His eyes crack open, one of them struggling to break the seal of dried blood keeping his eyelashes clumped together.
“Please, man,” he moans. “We didn’t mean to—”
“Pimp out your whores in Saints’ territory?” Theo finishes for him.
“Didn’t know it was your territory.”
“You must be new,” I say.
The guy—or boy, I should say, because he looks to be no older than twenty-one or twenty-two—nods weakly. “I’m sorry.”
Theo scoffs. “You’re sorry? One of the girls with you is barely eighteen. Did you know that? Or even care?”
“I didn’t know, I didn’t know.” He’s babbling now, clearly lost in a swirl of pain and panic. I don’t think he’s going to be much use.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Vinnie.”
“And your buddy’s?”
Vinnie looks at his friend, who’s still slumped in the chair, chin resting against his chest. “Oh, fuck. Is he dead?”
“Not yet,” Theo says.
“Oh god. Oh fuck. Please, I swear, it’ll never happen again. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“What’s his name?”
“Arlo. I just met him yesterday.”
“How long have you been a part of the South Five?” I ask.
“A couple of weeks. That’s it. I just needed money.
Please, man. My sisters are still kids, and they’re hungry.
They told me I just had to do a couple of jobs and help keep their girls safe if I didn’t want my sisters to take their place.
Please, I promise. I swear. I didn’t mean to encroach on your turf. Arlo took me there. Please.”
He’s crying now, and the sight is a physical blow. He’s a kid in over his head. He’s clearly been manipulated into doing the South Five’s dirty work.
Anger at Bowie and his entire crew of gutter trash turns my vision red. A glance at Theo suggests he’s feeling the same way.
“Who told you to do the jobs?” Theo asks.
Vinnie shakes his head, tears still streaming down his cheeks. “I don’t know anything about him, I swear. I’ve only met him twice.”
“His name,” Theo demands.
“Gray. It was Gray!”
Of course it wouldn’t be Bowie himself roping in these desperate kids to do his dirty work. No, he’d send his right hand to do that for him.
“What do you know about Matthew?”
“Nothing! Nothing. Never heard of him.” The kid is babbling, and I believe him. He’s just a pawn in the Fivers’ game.
“He won’t know anything,” Kip says from behind us.
“We could kill him. Get answers out of Arlo there,” I suggest, gesturing to the guy who’s showing signs of life as he groans and shifts as much as his restraints will allow.
“Fuck, please,” Vinnie begs, tugging at the chains. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
Theo studies him, then looks back at me and Kip. “He’s barely a Fiver.”
I know exactly what he’s thinking. God. He didn’t used to be this soft.
You’d think dating a serial killer would make him less worried about killing men, but maybe June is filling his head with nonsense about what kind of men it’s okay to kill.
Something tells me she wouldn’t be cool with killing a kid who was just doing what was necessary to survive and keep his sisters safe.
“Let’s wait to see what we can learn from him.” Theo steps away from Vinnie, who’s still letting out a stream of pleas.
“Wake the fuck up,” Theo says, kicking Arlo’s leg. When the man doesn’t respond, Theo scoops a small scalpel up from the table and slams it into Arlo’s hand where it’s strapped to the armchair rest. Behind us, Vinnie retches.
“Fuck!” Arlo shouts, his body tensing and head snapping up. Upon seeing us, he snarls and thrashes, though the restraints around his arms, legs, and waist don’t allow him to move much. “Fucking Purgatory trash.”
This is clearly the dominant one in this little partnership. “Glad we don’t have to suffer through introductions,” Theo says.
“I’m not telling you shit,” Arlo spits.
“That’s fine, we have Vinnie back there,” I say, jamming my thumb behind me. Arlo follows the direction and scowls at the boy strung up, sobbing. “He’s ready to tell us all about how you and your heartless bosses are prepared to kill and manipulate anyone in Tucson to get what you want.”
“Classic Saints behavior. String up anyone who can’t defend themselves and torture them until they say anything to confirm what you already think. Who cares what the truth is, right? As long as you Saints get the revenge you want,” Arlo says.
It’s such a random thing to say that I frown, not sure how to reply.
“We’re not the ones selling teenage girls or forcing children to do your dirty work.”
“Because you’re the good guys, right? You’d never hurt the innocent.”
“Right,” Theo says. Then he rips the scalpel from Arlo’s hand and slams it into the other one. The man lets out a howl of pain. “Unlike you sick psychopaths.”
Arlo bares his teeth at Theo. “Do your worst. I’m not telling you shit.”
Theo’s answering smile is chilling. “We’ll see about that.”
For the next three hours, Theo does his worst. Arlo passes out twice, only to be forced awake with smelling salts that June already had on hand. It makes me wonder what other kind of torture devices she has.
Kip and I let Vinnie down soon after Arlo’s torture began.
The boy clearly doesn’t know anything, but none of us talk about what to do with him.
Until we can come up with a decision, we tied his arms and legs together and set him in the back corner, as far away from Theo and Arlo as possible.
Then Kip excused himself, saying he had to head to the Iron Cage.
Arlo is tough and doesn’t show signs of breaking for several hours.
The first thing he admits is that it was Diego who killed Matthew, which isn’t a surprise.
Diego is the Fivers’ main enforcer. While Theo continues coaxing out helpful information, I decide I need a break and venture upstairs to retrieve water for Vinnie. I’m in the kitchen when June walks in.
“James, what—” Her question is interrupted by a scream of agony coming from the cracked basement door.
She tenses in fear. For another person, that fear would be for their own safety.
But for June, I’m sure it’s a deep-rooted fear about being exposed.
When she remembers she told Theo he could bring two men here to torture for information, she relaxes.
“Here,” I say, passing the water to her after catching sight of the clock on the wall behind her. “The boy in the corner seems mostly innocent, though he’ll know too much now.”
She winces at the insinuation that we may have to kill a guy who doesn’t deserve it.
“Are you leaving?”
I nod. “I have to be somewhere. Tell Theo I’ll talk to him later. I’m sure he’ll be fine without me.” Especially now she’s here.
“Okay.” She takes in my full appearance, starting from my head and dragging down to my feet. “Did you help Theo do…”
I shake my head. “Not really.”
“Still. Don’t let anyone know you were here. And make sure you don’t have any blood on you.”
“I know the drill, boss lady.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Better than reaper and killer though, right?”
“God. You Saints are trying to drive me crazy.”
I smirk. “I think it’s safe to say you started it.” Then I do something that makes both of us temporarily freeze in shock.
I lean down and kiss her forehead.
Instantly, my eyes burn.
The only other person I’ve ever done that to was my sister. Scottie.
I didn’t even think about it. It was just the natural thing to do before leaving.
The burning in my eyes travels down to my throat. I’m not sure if it's grief or guilt or something different and more significant, but whatever the emotion is, it feels overwhelming. Similar, yet not as life-altering, to what I felt when I finally gave in to my need for Sadie.
Shit. What are these women doing to us?
I clear my throat. “I’ll see you later.”
June nods, clearly at a loss for what to say.
“Keep an eye on my brother. Don’t let him go too dark.”
That gets a reply. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“And that’s why I like you, June Graves.”
She smiles. “Awe, getting soft on me, Jamesy?”
The scowl that fits so naturally on my face returns. “Don’t push it.” And with that, I excuse myself and drive extra fast to make it to Sadie before she leaves to put her life, and my sanity, on the line all over again.