16. GRAYSON
16
GRAYSON
I stepped over another corpse—this one with a bullet hole to his forehead, his eyes and mouth gaping open—and squatted down. He was heavier to roll over than the last one, and frustratingly, like the last one, he was not carrying a wallet or any other identification.
I gritted my teeth and snapped a picture of his face with my cell phone. With any luck, I could identify them and uncover who had been collaborating with Daniel against Ivy.
Clenching my fists, I reminded myself to be thankful that the only casualties were those who had harmed Ivy; none of Hunter’s security team or my brothers had been injured.
Thank God.
But they almost had been, and it would be an Antarctic day in hell before I’d let that go. One of the reasons I’d ordered Hunter’s guards to man the doors outside was because I didn’t care to have a witness in here should I find someone alive.
Making my way down the hallway, I descended the stairs and entered the basement, where the last two bodies lay sprawled on the cement floor.
Only…the guy in the corner…
The surrounding blood was smeared, like something had moved. I stepped closer, squinting at his chest, which rose and fell almost imperceptibly.
He’s alive.
The realization sent a surge of exhilaration through my veins, igniting a burning desire for vengeance that consumed every fiber of my being. This piece of shit had not only participated in Ivy’s kidnapping, but had stood by as his accomplices hurt her. He had watched as her screams echoed through the chambers of hell they had created for her.
Anyone— anyone —who harmed a hair on her head would learn the true meaning of suffering. I would employ every skill, every technique, every ounce of knowledge I possessed to make them regret the day their path intercepted with hers.
The edge of my mouth curled up slightly.
Exacting revenge would serve another purpose too—to send a warning to others, a clear example of what I would do to anyone who dared to hurt Ivy.
First order of business was kicking his fallen pistol away from him, its metal scraping against the concrete until it came to rest on the far side of the room. Second order was slapping him across his rather ugly face, which was highlighted by a crooked nose.
“Wake up, asshole,” I snapped.
No movement.
Either he was unconscious or he was faking.
One way to find out.
I shoved my finger between his teeth and pried his jaw open, pushing the barrel of my pistol into his mouth.
His eyes flew open wide.
“Welcome to your nightmare, motherfucker,” I said.
When the smell of piss filled the air, I curled my lips in disgust, pulled the pistol out of his mouth, and pressed it to his forehead.
“Name.”
“I…”
I cocked the gun.
“Name.”
“Elliott! My name is Elliott Maddox.”
“Are you CIA?” I demanded.
“No.”
Given the broken protocols, I figured as much, but it was helpful to confirm Daniel had gone off the books with this one.
“You part of an organized crime family?”
“No. I’m an independent contractor.”
“A hit man,” I clarified.
No denial.
“Tell me everything. How were you contacted, what was the job, what were you told to do…and make it quick.”
I listened as Elliott recounted the details of Daniel’s operation—a team of mostly non-CIA members with a couple of ex-agents and a skilled hacker, who had tapped into Hunter’s surveillance and intercepted cell phone reception. Their orders were clear—take the target alive and bring her here.
Elliott didn’t ask why this girl was a target, which made him the most dangerous type of criminal on the street—the kind that didn’t live by any kind of moral code, killing and harming indiscriminately, so long as it paid.
As I finished extracting every piece of intelligence from him, I paused before asking my final question.
“What was your specific role in this?”
“Wh-what?”
“Answer the question.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed.
“I…I got her into the van.”
“You abducted her,” I clarified, my voice calm and cool, even though, inside, my muscles boiled with rage.
His chest rose and fell faster.
Maybe he could sense my hesitation. It’d be faster to shoot him and be done with it.
But this guy…he’d made Ivy’s worst nightmare come true—a nightmare she’d had since the attempted kidnapping at thirteen. I could only imagine the horror she went through when, this time, her abductors successfully got her into the vehicle.
How scared she must have been.
When she’d told me that story, I’d vowed to find whoever did that to her and make them pay.
In the meantime, this asshole had caused a fresh wave of terror in her life. Not to mention the pain from whatever they’d done to her before I arrived.
For that, he’d pay.
I grabbed his chin and squeezed his cheeks. “When I’m finished with you, you will be begging for death.”
I stood up, shoved my gun into the back of my waistband, and walked over to the fallen tool they had been using on Ivy.
“Please,” he whimpered, like the pathetic bitch he was. “I’m not the one who used that on her.”
“But you did nothing to stop it. Hurting Ivy was nothing more than a job to you.”
“Please!” His voice became more desperate when the satisfying hiss of the flame came to life. “Don’t do this!”
But he hadn’t stopped them from making Ivy cry as they burned her flesh, so I turned it on and drew the flame closer to him.
The coward began to crawl away on his back like a crab.
Which served as a good reminder for me. The guy should be incapacitated for what I was about to do.
I pressed my foot on top of his right forearm and stomped down. Crack. The sound of a thick twig snapping echoed off the concrete walls, as did his howling scream.
I moved my foot to his other forearm.
Crack.
Screaming.
His left shin.
Crack.
Crying.
His right shin.
Crack.
Tears bled down his cheeks.
“Please stop,” he whimpered.
“I once read that the heat of a blowtorch is something like 3500° Fahrenheit. Did you know that it only takes 2000° to cremate someone?” Look at him quiver. “I wonder if anyone has ever been cremated inch by inch?”
Elliott continued to beg.
But every time he did, images of Ivy chained to that pole, the fear in her eyes, her pain…well, it drowned out his screams.
I brought the torch closer.
And got to work.