Six
Oz
July 9, 2025
I wasn’t sure if the plan was to kill the bastard or not when we found him, but if they didn’t want him dead, they were gonna have to hide him from me. Standing in the kitchen, I watched the damn clock as it passed the forty-eight-hour point since I’d arrived here with Winslet.
Where was the motherfucker? His sister needed to eat. She needed more water. She hadn’t eaten in so damn long that she wasn’t even shitting. I’d have smelled it if she had.
The sandwich I made myself with items from the well-stocked kitchen tasted like sandpaper. Eating while I had a woman starving in the basement was apparently an issue for me. Until now, I hadn’t realized how fucking weak I was when it came to torturing females. I’d never had to do it before. I hated it.
My phone rang, and I jerked it up.
“Yeah?” I said into the phone.
“We got a hit. Someone tracked her phone. It was from a burner though. I traced it to Atlanta. Blaise has already sent out King, Thatcher, and Storm to the location, although I doubt he’s still there. But with their proximity, they might find something that points to where Perry went next,” Wilder said.
King Salazar, Thatcher Shephard, and Storm Kingston were all family from the Georgia branch. Thatcher was known to be insane as fuck while King was the levelheaded leader. Storm was a human lie detector. The three of them were a force. If we were lucky, they’d be faster than he was.
“Thanks for the update. I’ll keep a watch out for someone here. They’ve got cameras all over this property,” I told him.
“If he knows who he cleaned his fake money through, then he won’t be showing up like the calvary. Blaise is talking to the Feds now to let them know they might need to branch out and make sure all local law enforcement is made aware to ignore any leads about Winslet Gerard’s location, and if Perry actually walks into a building to file the missing person report, to lock him up.”
This all needed to move faster. It was going too slow.
“Good,” I replied. Although it wasn’t good enough.
“Linc wants you to call him after we get off the phone,” Wilder informed me.
I didn’t want to call Linc. I already feared this was about my forcing information from Winslet.
“All right,” I replied.
The line went silent, and I sighed before pressing Linc’s number.
He answered on the first ring.
“You talked to Wilder,” he said.
“Yeah,” I replied, although he’d said it as more of a statement, not a question.
“What have you gotten out of her today?”
Nothing. I had gotten nothing.
After I had left her this morning, I couldn’t go back. She was about to spend her third night down there, and I wasn’t sure I could witness it. Even in the low lights, I could see she was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes. It would be worse now.
“She’s still claiming she knows nothing. I think she might have started to believe what I’d told her about Perry. Especially since he’s not come for her yet.”
Linc was silent for a moment, and I felt my stomach knot up.
“All right, you’re gonna need to go make her talk, Oz. She’s got a high tolerance for being uncomfortable, it seems. Damn.” He sighed as if he hated this as much as I did. “Don’t feed her tonight. Let her suffer a third night down there, and then in the morning, go ask some questions. Press her. Use your Glock if you have to. Scare her with it. Threaten her. You know what to do. Surely, she’ll talk then. If that doesn’t work, then, hell, I guess try taking a whip to her. I don’t think she’s the kind who will get off on that.”
He needed to stop with the suggestions.
“I’ll handle it,” I said gruffly before he could say any more.
I would most definitely not take a whip to her ass. My damn cock was already getting hard, thinking about it.
Jesus, Linc.
“We need something from her. They might be on his trail, but this is on us. I don’t want Blaise thinking we can’t handle our shit. I’d say press her tonight, but I think making her desperate will help.”
I knew that. I also knew this was on ME. Not us.
“I got it. I’ll get something,” I assured him.
“I’ll be waiting,” he replied, then ended the call.
“Dammit,” I hissed, slamming the phone down with more force than I should with a burner.
Perry was a dead man. Thatcher had better not kill him before I got my hands on the piece of shit.