Chapter Twenty-One
I t was late afternoon a few days later when Justice stalked into the room of his home that housed his surveillance videos.
Doing a job had helped, but it hadn’t taken his mind from what Fisher had suffered.
From what he’d put Fisher through , he reminded himself.
He quickly pulled up the footage on the computer that sat on the counter that stretched the length of the room.
After seeing firsthand the warehouse where they’d kept Cash, Apollo, and Azrael, watching the scene unfold in his own basement was very fucking different.
Even though some of Fisher’s questions were on the odd side, the man’s anger and hate now made perfect sense.
The screen flickered and the video started rolling. He had watched the footage over and over for what seemed to be the hundredth time, but he looked at it now with new eyes.
After tossing the cot and bucket in the first initial burst of anger, Fisher had stumbled to the corner of the cage and sat with his knees pulled to his chest.
The man’s lips were moving, but Justice couldn’t decipher the words. After staring into space for over an hour, Fisher dropped his forehead to his knees and didn’t move.
Axel had grown restless or worried because the dog started pacing back and forth in front of the bars.
Fisher never lifted his head.
Two hours after that, Axel barreled toward the basement door and disappeared. How Rogue got his guard dog into the closet outside of the basement was anyone’s guess.
After several moments, Rogue came into the basement, grabbed the key on the wall near the door, and hurried over to open the cage.
Fisher didn’t move.
Rogue rushed across the enclosure and crouched down in front of Fisher. Rogue was saying something, but Fisher still didn’t move. In the next instance, Rogue scooped Fisher up from the floor and carried him out of the cage.
Justice turned off the video feed.
He’d built the six-by-six cage to train Axel with search and rescue and it had stood empty for months. Placing the cot and bucket had been done the night before by him.
The cage should have stayed empty.
It should have not been used as a prison cell.
It didn’t matter that he hadn’t realized the hell it represented to Fisher.
Not stopping to think, Justice walked out of the computer room and into the basement. He snatched up a sledgehammer from the bench.
Swinging it with all his might, he smashed and ripped the cage apart.
It was too late.
Way too late.
After tearing down the cage, Justice took the rest of the afternoon to drink. He didn’t normally do that, but he wanted to go numb if only for a few hours.
He paid for it the next morning when he rolled from bed with a pounding headache.
“Fuck,” he groaned, sitting on the edge of the bed holding his head.
He’d given up looking for Fisher, but everything inside of him was telling him not to. He didn’t deserve forgiveness, but he wanted…no, he needed a chance to say he was sorry.
Now that he knew what he’d done. Now that he realized he’d caged Fisher just like he’d been caged as a little boy, he wanted to get on his knees and apologize.
If Fisher would let him. And even if Fisher threw his apology in his face, Justice was still going to say the words to the man’s face.
He just needed to find him.
“I swear, Tanis. I don’t know where he is.” The floor beneath Kit’s knees felt cold and he couldn’t stop shaking, making the plastic he knelt on crackle.
The man who had ignored him over the past ten minutes while looking over a set of trophies on a shelf finally turned around. In his hand was a bat and Kit was certain it was one of those collectibles.
“You know, Kit, I pretty much leave you alone to dig your own grave.”
“I know, Tanis! Th…th…thank you.” His brain couldn’t seem to catch up from when he’d been yanked sleeping from his couch by Tanis’ men and dumped here.
“A little birdie told me that Boston was at your house. Yet, when my men went there, he was gone.”
“Yeah. I don’t know where he is. He was there when I went to sleep.”
“What I want to know is how did he get to you?”
Kit stared into the man’s cold, dead brown eyes. There was no way he was telling Tanis about the man who’d delivered Boston to him. With Tanis, he had a better chance of surviving rather than that guy.
“He just appeared on the back porch. It’s not hard for them…guys to find me.”
“Them?” The man’s face was a blank cold mask and Kit felt the tears trail down his cheeks.
“The boys,” he whispered.
“They are my boys.” Tanis smacked the bat against one palm.
“I know.”
“And when any of my boys come to you, what are you supposed to do, Kit?”
“Call you.”
“That’s right.” Tanis walked closer, the plastic beneath the man’s shiny dress shoes crackled. When Tanis crouched down, he placed the end of the bat beneath his chin and Kit had his face forced up. “And did you call me?”
“I’m sorry.” Kit kept his hands on his knees but squeezed them into fists. He knew if he moved, it would be worse. He’d been taught young not to fight back. Not to make a sound. Just say you’re sorry and hope to whatever power was out there that Tanis believed him.
Kit closed his eyes. He was only twenty-five years old. Way too young to die, but really, how much longer could he live in his drug-induced haze anyway?
Wasn’t this for the best?
He could go out and never have to feel anything again.
“Look at me,” Tanis said and the plastic crinkled. Kit felt the man standing up.
Kit opened his eyes.
And when the bat came for his head…
He welcomed the relief.
He was finally free.
Tanis jerked his chin toward the body and two of his men leaped to and started wrapping Kit up in plastic.
Rolling his neck, he relieved the tension and shot Blue a dark glance.
“Where’s Mouse and where the fuck is Fisher?” he snarled.
Blue touched his fingers to the bandage on his forehead. Beneath the white gauze was a scar that had required eight stitches. That was courtesy of Fisher shooting at him. One of the bullets had cleaved into a car, sending something flying through the air. He owed that motherfucker. If it was the last thing he ever did, he would avenge Solomon by killing Fisher and every single one of Erebus. His brother had not deserved to die like that.
“Bring the other one in,” Tanis ordered Garrett, who stood just inside the door.
A few minutes later, Garrett carried Scotty in with his feet and hands bound, duct tape slapped over his mouth just as Kit was carted out rolled in plastic.
Bright blond hair fell into Scotty’s eyes. The young man had truly been a beautiful boy once upon a time and Tanis did regret that Scotty hadn’t aged out.
Fear now darkened those light blue eyes and the blond’s skin was sickly from drug abuse. He walked over and yanked the tape from Scotty’s mouth, leaving the man gasping.
“That was Kit.” Tanis pointed after the men carrying the plastic roll.
Scotty was lifted off of his feet by Blue and two men jumped to roll out more plastic. Blue dropped Scotty down on the fresh sheet.
Tanis picked up the bat and showed it to Scotty. Blood ran down the wood and Tanis tilted it so it smattered the plastic.
“Where is Boston?”
“I don’t know. I swear.”
“Do you know who does?”
Scotty froze, staring at him with wide eyes. There was that look again. The same one Kit had given him as if they were afraid of someone more than him.
That was where they were wrong. He was the one to fear here.
He was the biggest monster.
“Kit died because he kept secrets from me. How did Boston find Kit’s house?”
“I don’t know,” Scotty cried, his voice tight with fear.
That same terror kept the young man mute.
Tanis lifted the bat.
“Wait! I know someone who might know.”
Tanis squinted and eased the bat lower. Holding Scotty’s gaze, he waited.
“Fisher.”
Just the sound of Fisher’s name sent his pulse thrumming. Tanis felt his heart pounding in his chest. His mouth went dry and he squeezed the bat.
“Where is he!” he snarled.
“He was at Kit’s the other night.”
“Why didn’t you know that?” he hissed at Blue.
“He wasn’t there when I looked.”
Tanis turned away.
Fisher.
Beautiful Fisher. That long midnight hair, sleek body, and fierce attitude. He’d been missing him since he’d sold him to Solomon.
It was one of his biggest regrets.
Oh, how he mourned when that transaction had been completed. If he could just get his hands on both Fisher and Boston. He would make Fisher his right hand by using Boston as leverage.
Then they could rule all assassins together.
His excitement grew.
“You’re going to help me.” He pointed the bloody end of the bat at Scotty.
“I’ll do anything,” Scotty said. No way did he want to end up like Kit. He was sorry for ratting out Fisher, but he wanted to live. It had taken him years to reconnect with his family after Tanis had tired of him. Now, he had a little sister to help his mom take care of. “Just tell me what to do.”
“Oh, I will,” Tanis whispered and the evil smile that curled the man’s lips brought bile rising into Scotty’s throat and sent a cold chill of dread up his spine.