Chapter 15
Fox
Ifucking hope Nitro is having the time of his life with Jazz because I can honestly say staring at two geeks suspended in sex swings with ball gags in their mouths is not really my cup of tea.
“Chewy, what’s the plan?” Marx asks, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You know, just when I think Chewy will run outta ideas, she goes and surprises me,” Rider says, voice awed. “Do you think she’ll let me use the sex swing once she’s finished?” I slowly turn my head toward him and give him a disgusted look.
We all know they’ll have to be burned once Chewy finishes whatever she has planned for these two. Pops claps his hands, moving to stand in front of the “interviewees” as Chewy has started calling our guests.
“Ready for some wild shit to happen to you?” Pops asks, eyeing them up.
That tough dweeb that punched me in the face gives Pops a bored look, and I’m intrigued to watch this one break. He’s a hardass and is clearly the more senior of the two.
“Well, Marx, and thank you for asking, my plan is to break this one-” Chewy waves to Tough Dweeb, “-by torturing this one.” Chewy then waves in the direction of the one that looks terrified out of his damn mind.
“Oh people hate knowing that they’re the cause of someone else’s pain,” Kaia says quietly.
“Especially when they’re siblings,” Chewy grins.
I don’t miss the flare in the eyes of the tough one. She hit the nail on the head.
“Are you sure? They look nothing alike?” Rider says, lining up beside Tank, Savage, Switch and Jules, eyes darting between the two men strung up in the swings.
“Do you dare question me? My own BFF?”
Rider’s gaze shoots to Chewy’s. “No! I mean, not really, but come on, you have to admit they look completely different.”
“Why? Cos they’re different skin colors?”
I mean, I get where Rider is coming from. One is white blonde, the other clearly bi racial.
“Ear lobe, philtrum, eye color, widows peak, crooked middle finger on their right hands and the shape of their brows and noses.” She points to each body part she listed off, making her case. “Also, Wire pulled their ID’s. Totally brothers.”
“Could have led with that, Chewy,” Gus says drily.
“Where’s the fun in that big brother?” She smirks, snapping on some latex gloves.
“Babe?”
“Got you baby, still in the mood for country?”
“You got it!” She grins widely as “Achy Breaky Heart” cranks through the speakers, singing along as she shoves a thick ass needle through the scared one’s left nipple.
He stiffens, sweat beading on his forehead but doesn’t make a sound as he stares at the tough one.
Not that Chewy cares as she shoves another needle through his other nipple, then moves to his limp dick.
He tries to close his thighs, but he’s shit outta luck with his legs splayed widely in the swing Chewy has him in.
“So, before I start with the Jacob’s Ladder, wanna tell me who you’re working for?” Chewy asks, removing the ball gags from their mouths.
Before the one she’s been working on can answer she has her tools in her hand, not even hesitating as she starts with the first rung of the ladder, so to speak.
“Keep your fucking mouth shut,” the tough one hisses, eyes on his brother’s pale face. He can act tough all he likes, I can see the hesitation in his eyes, the slight glimmer of fear at the recognition that we are not to be fucked with.
“Huh, OK. Let’s try another question.” She poises the needle at the side of his dick. “Does Sergeant Hitchens work for you or the people you work for?”
Chewy presses the needle into the skin, “Yes! No, maybe, fuck! I don’t know, we were told to give the Dropmire to a guy in a deputy uniform,” the man sobs as Chewy pushes through to the other side, following up with a barbell that matches the previous one.
“Oh good job!”
I frown at Chewy’s praise as Rhodie rolls his eyes. “She’s been working on praising Laney, so she’s practicing on pretty much everyone.”
I hold back my snort that Chewy’s good mothering instincts have flowed over to her torturing.
“I won’t pierce you on this next question, as long as you answer it.” She stands, a massive needle at the ready and her brows raised. Obviously the poor bastard nods emphatically as his brother growls at him, “Good. Why are you listening into the PD?”
She moves closer, taunting him and he splutters a little, eyes wide as saucers.
“We don’t know! We just do what we’re told.
He hired us, paid upfront, we just did as we were told.
Give the bug to this guy and spend the rest of our time monitoring what’s coming in and pass the information on.
” His head rolls forward, eyes pinched shut as his brother yells at him.
We all share a look. What kind of information?
“Right. And what kind of information are we talking?” Chewy asks, head tipped to the side.
The other brother starts bucking in the sex swing, looking pissed as hell. “We don’t fucking know, you bitch! We needed the money and did as we were tol-”
Quick as lightning Chewy has a needle through the tough guys nipple and a knife at his throat.
“Bitch is such a hateful word.” She hits him with a disappointed look, shaking her head left to right.
“Now, take a breath, and tell me what you’ve heard, who you work for, and how much they’re paying you. ”
He goes bright red, before spewing out shit that we’re gonna pay for this before he and his brother shut down.
Silent as a fucking crypt. By the time Chewy is finished with them they both have both nipples pierced, a Prince Albert and full Jacob’s Ladders because Chewy had barbells she wanted to use up.
Oddly, both are still alive seeing as Wire found information that the job was sourced on the dark net, the client remained anonymous the whole time, paid well, and the job was low stakes.
Hand off a Dropmire bug at a disclosed location and listen in, send through information reports every two days.
We all walk out of the Rev Room leaving them to their own fucking devices in a couple of cozy cells and follow Chewy out of the Rev Room.
I have no idea what her plans are for the two of them, but at least we now have the name of the fucker pulling the strings.
Not that I care. What he has planned for us can wait, I have two people that I have a deep seated need to see.
Rushing toward the house I take note that Jazz’s tiny car is still parked next to the SUV’s and knowing that Nitro has made her comfortable enough to stay even without her sister and her girls has pride swelling in my chest. He’s a good man, he just needs to see himself as such.
I quell my need to burst through the doors in my hurry, instead walking on silent feet, moving closer to the sounds of their laughter mingling down the long hall.
Standing in the shadows I watch them, the color in Jazz’s cheeks as she teases Nitro about something.
The way he throws his head back in laughter, his throat working, tanned skin glistening in the lighting.
He murmurs something back to her and now it’s her turn to throw her head back, the way her whole body moves when she laughs makes my cock ache, wondering how she’ll move when she’s underneath me.
“Gonna let me in on the joke?” I ask from the doorway, smile on my face as I lean against the jamb.
“Fox, come look at this.” Jazz waves me toward her before holding her hand out.
I take it in mine, it’s so damn tiny and soft, not something that should be held by my massive paw, but I don’t give two shits.
She pulls me closer to where she’s standing leaning against Nitro, bringing me into her other side, until she’s wedged between us.
I don’t miss the low groan Nitro lets out as we sandwich her, filthy thoughts running through my mind.
“I was showing Zane some of Rodney’s paintings,” she carries on, oblivious to the fact that I’m frozen to the spot at the sound of Nitro’s government name falling from her lips. He’s in. He’s all in.
Shaking myself off I force myself to lean in, peering at her phone screen while discreetly trying to draw her scent into my lungs. “Wait, is that a dick?”
Nitro snorts, his low rumbling chuckle builds as Jazz scrolls photo after photo of paintings of dicks. All sizes and colors flash by on the screen until all three of us are in fits of laughter. This, this is what I want for the rest of our lives. And I’m going to fucking get it too.
Jazz
My cheeks feel like they haven’t once stopped burning up.
In fact, my whole body feels hot and alive in a way it hasn’t in a very long time.
Usually I’d start to run mental diagnostics, running through every symptom that I have.
Is my big toe feeling achy? How’s my knee?
Wrists feel OK, run my tongue around my mouth, nope, no ulcers that I can feel.
Blink a few times to check eye moisture.
Wriggle fingers to make sure they’re all working well.
No headache, not patchy vision, breathing feels fine.
I tick everything off like I’m running health and safety on a school trip and yet none of the usual issues I deal with seem to be what’s behind the heat rushing through me.
Which means that there is only one conclusion, and that’s being wedged between two, large, incredibly hot men who for some reason have set their sights on me.
Me. The sick girl. The one that probably won’t be able to meet or fulfill any of their needs and yet, for one crazy moment, I want them.
I want them more than my fears can hold me back.
Wedged on a barstool between the two of them makes me feel protected, cared for and I don’t miss the fact that since Fox came to join us no one else has dared enter the kitchen where we’re hanging out. Not even my sister who I would have thought would have checked in on me.
A notification pops up on my phone screen
Vi: get it girl and then tell me about it tomorrow. Don’t forget to wrap up!