Chapter 6 Georgie
GEORGIE
It felt like ants were crawling under my skin.
I couldn’t sit still, I couldn’t relax. I lengthened my stride, dodging various individuals and groups meandering down the street.
There were families, loved-up couples, friends out for a good time.
I sidestepped a couple canoodling as they wandered slowly, then a bunch of teenagers with skateboards tucked under their arms.
Sitting in my hotel room had been torture. The walls felt like they’d been closing in; my chest was too tight; my legs moving restlessly. I’d had to get out and do something.
Red and green lights blinked overhead. Christmas decorations hung across the street.
Christmas. Viv had loved Christmas, just like our mom had. Some of my best memories were family Christmases, with Viv tearing wrapping paper off her gifts, Elliot teasing her, and Mom and Dad watching on with indulgent smiles.
This would be my first Christmas without them all.
A lump lodged in my throat. Hunching my shoulders, I kept my head down, but my gaze was up.
On my target.
I’d dressed in something nondescript—jeans, boots, and a black hoodie. I’d had to do something.
Doing nothing was killing me.
Snyder had messaged me again. He’d sent me a video of Viv.
My stomach turned over at what I’d seen done to her.
God. I felt antsy. Energy throbbed inside me, desperate for a target.
I wanted to hurt Snyder. Hell, I wanted to hurt anyone.
My gaze locked on Frank Bruno walking ahead of me.
He walked like he owned the place. A man used to getting or taking whatever he wanted. I’d gone back to watch Red Neon and seen him leave.
It had taken me about two seconds to decide to follow him.
I bent my neck from side to side, listening to the cracks, relieving some tension. Then I slid a hand into the front pocket of my hoodie and my fingers closed around my stun gun.
I’d also purchased a handgun. It was wrapped in a shirt in my suitcase back at my motel room.
Some part of me wasn’t ready to use that yet.
I didn’t really know what I planned to do tonight. I just knew that I needed to do something.
Bruno was heading home. I knew that he had a nice apartment a few blocks off Fremont Street.
Yeah, the asshole did well for himself.
He turned into a quiet side street, and I picked up speed to keep him in view. I’d followed him before, and I knew he often took a shortcut through a dark alley.
Energy swelled inside me. This man had beaten me. He pinned me down, kicked me, punched me, and took great pleasure in tormenting me with all the things he’d done to my sister.
That sea of rage inside me roiled.
I closed in on him. He turned into the alley. It was dark here. There were no streetlights, no shiny storefronts, and there was no one around.
I should be afraid. I knew he was strong. If he got a hold of me…
Anger overcame the fear.
I had no fear left.
Whatever happened to me, there was no one left to care or grieve.
I stepped up behind him and he sensed me. He started to turn.
Quickly, I rammed a hard jab into his kidneys.
He grunted, his fist swinging out. “What the fuck?”
He caught me in my sore ribs. Pain exploded through my torso, but I ignored it. Too late, asshole.
I jammed the stun gun into his side and pressed the button.
He made a low sound as his body shuddered.
God, that felt good. I watched his body stiffen, the grimace on his face.
Finally, I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t going to be pushed around. This time, I had the upper hand.
I stunned him again. And again.
His big body went down. He made a thump as he hit the dirty pavement. I followed on one knee and stunned him again.
He groaned. I slid the stun gun away and pulled a syringe and vial from my pocket.
Ketamine. A large enough dose to take him down.
I quickly injected him. His dark gaze—clouded and pained—locked on me. I knew the instant he recognized me. He moved weakly.
“It’s Ketamine,” I said. “You won’t be able to move your limbs, but you won’t stop breathing.”
His eyes flared. I saw the fear and I reveled in it.
“How’s it feel? Being helpless?” I pulled my arm back, curled my fingers into a fist and punched his gut. “Knowing I can do whatever I want to you?”
Air rushed from his lips, but he couldn’t move.
“It’s no fun to be trapped as someone beats you, is it?” I punched him again. “To be at someone’s mercy.” I lowered my voice. “How’s it feel knowing I could hurt you? Like you did to me.” My voice was a lethal hiss. “Like you did to my sister.”
I pulled a knife, sliding it from its small leather sheath. I saw panic in his gaze now.
“I wonder what I should do to you next? How I can make you hurt? Where I can hurt you?” I held up the blade. “What I could cut off.”
He made a low, animalistic sound.
“You deserve to be castrated. You deserve it all. You and that sick fuck of a boss.”
I ran the knife tip down his cheek and pressed hard enough so that blood welled.
Could I kill him?
Could I move the knife to his neck? Could I cross that line? My stomach did a sickening turn. I wanted to, but everything in my life had taught me that taking a life was wrong.
But he deserves it.
Anger surged. Part of it for myself, for having doubts.
For hesitating.
Viv deserved so much better.
“Well, it seems you have him where you want him,” a deep masculine voice drawled from behind me.
I stiffened. I hadn’t heard a single footstep.
“Now what?” the voice asked.