42. Nash
NASH
My mallet dragged along the worn, concrete floor. And my mind refused to stop thinking about Tess, locked away in our apartment.
Even as we worked.
Trixie rumbled against the floor as I pulled it behind me, a small trail of blood and dirt following it.
With the new directive from Dom, we’d gotten busy clearing warehouses all across Valemont. We hadn’t needed her permission but the clarity that there’d be no consequences made us comfortable to make the moves we’d been wanting to for years.
In a matter of days, we’d seized control of nearly all of our competitors, dirtbags who’d been bringing in laced product for years.
But there was still more to do. More to find out.
On the other side of the warehouse, Blade was cornering a dealer, the blades of her axes pressed to his throat. My gaze caught on the stacks of light blue bills in plastic bags. Fentanyl, tons of it.
My attention turned back to the man who was trying to evade me. He was scrawny, using the heels of his feet to kick off the pavement and back away from me. But he found his back pressed into the wall.
Watching him squeal, I sucked my teeth and pressed my foot into his chest before kneeling over him. My clown mask would keep him from ever knowing the face of the person who took his life.
He didn’t deserve that dignity. It was bad enough that they sold heroin, highly addictive drugs that took Valemont’s down-on-their-luck citizens into addicts hunting for a new fix. And the profit wasn’t enough.
That’s what the little blue pills were for. Cutting the product to make it last longer and increase their take home.
God only knows how many OD’s could be traced back here.
But it wasn’t just the fentanyl that had caught my eye. Piled against the walls were tons and tons of hard drugs — a number of which were hallucinogens that I’d never seen a clientele for here in Valemont.
Maybe if we had a music festival.
Pushing my black fullbore boot into his chest cavity, I used the bulky end of my mallet to lift his chin. “What’s changing? Why are people looking for harder shit?”
Squirming underneath me, the man let out a pathetic squeal as he tried to breathe under my heel. “I don’t know. Really. I don’t!”
“More. Now.” I pressed Trixie’s blunt end into his throat.
The Squealer shook his head. “I don’t know. Everyone wants hallucinogens. They want visions.”
Behind me, Cyrus’s heavy combat boots forced my eyes up. Her jaw was tense hearing what Squealer had to say. “Wrap him up.”
With my free hand, I reached into my back pocket and pulled out zip ties. I forced his arms together, his scrawny muscles nothing compared to the strength I’d honed in my decade of hiding.
Once his arms and legs were tied up, I slipped a black hood over his head as he screamed.
I grabbed the zip ties around his ankles and dragged him across the warehouse floor.
At the loading dock, a white van sat with the trunk open.
Inside, a few other dealers were squirming around like confused little worms.
Mean to worms.
I threw Squealer in with his friends and slammed the double doors closed.
“All this religious shit is making people crazy.” Blade grumbled, slipping her Twins into her belt loops.
Cyrus nodded. “Everyone thinks they’re a god.”
My mind jumped back to my Sweet Lamb, hopefully she was comfortable in the apartment — far from the chaos going down in Valemont.
I knew that Cyrus was convinced that Tess was some Christian saint who loved the home we grew up in. But I knew that wasn’t quite right. No one that pious ended up working at Velvet Paradise.
And she wouldn’t be letting three godless Freaks hunt her through the park.
At least she’s safe with us.
As Blade moved to the front of the van, hopping into the driver’s seat and slamming her hands against the metal grate that separated the prisoners in the back from her, she yelled. “Come on, piggies. Time for the slaughter!”
A sinister laugh came through her mask, muffled.
Shaking my head, I hopped into my Lambo. I sunk into the orange and black seats, letting the rumble of the engine wash over me.
Cyrus got into the passenger seat of the white van, ready for any violence our tied up prisoners might attempt.
As we peeled out of the warehouse, my mind went back to Tess.
She’d been such a good girl back at the home, always willing to play by the rules. But something must have happened to her along the way.
No longer a God-fearing child, but a rebellious adult.
Maybe God abandoned her the same way he’d abandoned us.
My heart ached to see her again, the brand on my leg stinging at the thought of being near her. I needed more.
But before I could get my hands on Tess, we needed to finish our business.
Following behind the van, I felt my excitement growing.
Time for some good, old fashioned blood spilling.