Chapter 22
R iordan
Inside the cavernous, windswept space, Shade strode to the far left of the building, a set of steps leading down to a subterranean level. We followed. The wind cut out, replaced by a thudding sound—the music Cassie had guessed would be part of Bronson’s psychological torture.
She’d been on the money. Scarily so.
Some of the skeleton crew who’d come with us remained upstairs while another unlocked a door at the bottom of the metal steps, revealing a domed ceiling over a wide, underground room with the feel of an air-raid shelter or a bunker. He locked us in, and my spine tingled with anticipation. Or perhaps mild panic. I wasn’t claustrophobic, but the place had a bad vibe. Nothing good happened here.
The back wall of the bunker contained a reinforced door, multiple locks securing it closed. Two guards stood either side, and at a desk nearer us, monitors displayed a nightmarish view of inside that room.
Of a man, trussed up by his feet which were tied to a hook so he dangled from a metal beam. Each hand was also constrained, and outstretched so he was inverted in a swan dive pose. Over his head, a burlap sack concealed his features. It didn’t hide the pain he was in.
He raised his head, his body flexing, then dropped back into the torture position.
Above him, water dripped. Not a steady flow, but an intermittent trickle, hitting his face and soaking the material covering it. That was why he kept moving. He couldn’t breathe.
Horror and nausea sank through me.
This was fucked up. The whole world of gang violence scared the hell out of me, and I hated that it existed and that I was a part of it.
This wasn’t my life. I didn’t want it.
Then Cassie brushed by me, and my emotion evaporated. If she’d followed that note and walked out of the warehouse in search of me, he would’ve taken her. He would’ve killed her. Any pity I’d felt fled.
More, she was here and facing a man who I knew had to scare her. She’d told me how she tackled her fears head-on. It was admirable. I could take a lesson in that.
Cassie settled at a desk and reached into her bag, extracting a skeleton mask, then she tugged it over her head. It was a full-face version, concealing all but her eyes, different to the half-mask I took from my back pocket and tied on.
Then she jumped up and came to me. Pressing up on her toes, she held up a makeup palette. “You’re too pretty. Let me dirty ye up a little.”
I smirked and allowed her to paint out a black band across my eyes. The other skeleton crew members had done the same, though I doubted theirs was from a high-end makeup line.
Across the room, Shade consulted with the guards and spooled through some of the footage of the room. After a minute, he gestured for us to fall in.
The locks slid out. The bunker door opened. A wall of noise hit us, and we walked the strip of light piercing the entrance.
Along with the noise, a sour odour assaulted my senses.
Shade pointed to a seat against the back wall for Cassie to take. He positioned me to Bronson’s right. From a table, he collected a lamp and turned it on, indicating for the door to be closed behind us.
Oh fuck.
I swallowed. Like it or not, I was an active part of this. I needed to step into my role. But another aspect was stealing over me. I fucking loved watching Cassie in her element. When she’d taken on Piers, holding a knife to his dick, cutting him, I’d been hard. It was all her, not the torture itself, and I had exactly no idea why.
Perhaps it was a good thing that Shade had forbidden her from taking part. Me popping a boner while she dripped with blood wasn’t a good look.
The spotlight hit Bronson.
Then the music cut out. A horrible keening came from the prisoner. It changed tone, weakening but not stopping, as if he realised something had altered but his brain was delivering the news slowly.
“Grab that,” Shade ordered me.
I twisted to the metal chair he pointed to and positioned it under Bronson. Shade unclipped one hand then the other, finally lowering the chain that held our captive’s legs until I could guide him into the seat.
His old-boy button-up shirt was saturated, as were his jeans, a gross stain running down them. He’d soiled himself. Fucking hell. I quickly calculated how long he’d been like this. Maybe twenty-four hours, though most of them not awake.
Shade refastened his hands and legs to the chair, and I stayed close in case Bronson lashed out. Instead, the man slumped to one side. At his spine, one of his hands shook uncontrollably.
Shining the light on his sorry form, Shade stood calmly for a second then removed Bronson’s mask.
“Bronson Lesk. Confirm that ye can hear me.”
A low, rasping breathing came from the prisoner, but no words.
Out of nowhere, Shade reared back and smashed his fist into Bronson’s face. The chair toppled, and Bronson collapsed on the floor. I waited for a signal then heaved him upright again, morphing back into the shadows.
“One more chance or I’ll put ye back on hold with the nice music.”
Blood dripped from his nose, and Bronson swayed on each breath. His eyes remained closed, but his lips moved. “I hear. Everything.”
Shade squared up, ready to proceed, but Bronson spoke again, his tone creepy as fuck.
“I can hear how excited you are to have me here, Connor Michaels. Bet your dick got hard every time you thought of me in your little dungeon. I know you’ve got some lackey assisting you instead of your boss. He wouldn’t have been so gentle. Who’s at the back? Soft, quick breathing. Smells good. Is that your bitch? Hey, sweetheart, come and suck an old boy’s cock, won’t you? Might be my last chance.” He gave a wheezing laugh.
I stiffened and darted my gaze to Cassie. Perched on her chair, she squinted at Bronson as if scrutinising him. There was no fear in her expression, only interest.
I reset my expectations. What they’d done had barely affected the man, other than to his physical form.
Shade took a few steps then turned back around. “Good for ye, keeping some of your marbles. Forgive me if I’m not impressed. You’ll know why you’re here, then?”
“I’m sure you’re dying to tell me.”
“Ye fucked with my crew. I can’t let that lie.”
“Ah, you’re after a confession. To get it, you’ll tell me how Red knows I’m here and doesn’t care. Then, you’ll offer me some glimmer of hope so I spill my guts. Let me save you the trouble. Whether Red gives a fuck about me or not makes no difference. If you’re expecting him to come after me, guess again. He won’t take the hit for my sake.”
The confidence and arrogance stunned me. He was seeking to lead rather than follow.
Shade considered his words then, from the side table, picked up a tool. A handheld device with two prongs at the top. A taser, my mind supplied. I’d never seen one in real life.
“Open your eyes,” he ordered Bronson.
The older man chuffed a laugh. “Make it worth my while. Tell your bitch to flop out her big tits in front of me.”
Shade gritted his teeth. “You’re losing your touch, old man.”
“No fist to the kisser? So it isn’t her,” Bronson continued. “Who, then? Not Arran’s slut. Not if he’s left you to it. Then that cunt Alisha met her maker.” He laughed.
Cassie bounced to her feet.
Bronson cocked his head. “High heels. Surely not one of your dancers. Who else is hanging on your crew? Ah, got it. Arran’s little sister. Don’t tell me that teenage cunt is into this. Talk about crazy running in the family.” He paused for a second. “Little girl, when I’m out of here, I’ll break in your room and rape you in your bed. Bet you’ll scream for me.”
Ice stole through me. How fucking dare he talk about Cassie like that.
Shade made a sound of disgust and advanced on the man, but I did, too. Holding his gaze, I gestured to the taser. He handed it over then tapped his throat. Right .
Without hesitating, I jammed the device into Bronson’s neck and pressed the button. Electricity crackled. The taser jerked in my hand, but that was nothing to the effect it had on the prisoner. He jolted then seized, his muscles holding him from the seat. He moaned. Frothed at the mouth.
I hoped it hurt like hell. Maybe it would reset his brain and get her name out of his goddamned mouth. Maybe he’d die. Better to have one less predator on the streets.
Just as I was about to stop, fingers curled around mine. With a maniacal grin, Cassie squeezed, giving him an extra burst of power.
“…eight, nine, ten.”
I lifted my head to Shade’s counting. He slashed his hand. We released the trigger, and I staggered to the wall, breathing hard. What the hell had I done? A single threat to Cassie and I’d been willing to kill a man. One we still needed evidence from.
Holy fuck.
Returning to her seat, Cassie linked her gaze to mine. I wasn’t sure what I could see there, but fucking hell, I wanted to lay her out and strip her then fuck her over Bronson’s dead body.
A weak cough dragged my attention back.
Shade folded his arms. “Shame, you’re still alive. If you’ll shut your fucking mouth, I’ll get on with business. First, Marcus isn’t supplying the Four Milers anymore. I killed him for dealing to ye. Your using his drugs fucks over my reputation.”
I guessed Marcus to be the dealer of Shade’s sedatives, the ones they suspected Bronson of using.
Bronson’s chest rose and fell. Anger mixed with pain in his features.
Shade continued. “With Red out of town, we’ll be paying a few visits to your new establishment.”
“Like I give a fuck,” the man spluttered.
Shade smiled. Palmed a blade. Untying Bronson’s right arm, he spread his fingers. “Furthermore, for the insult to my crew and the life lost, I’m taking your trigger finger as first payment. Any more will be cut as and when ye piss me off enough. If you’re alive that long.”
“Wait,” Bronson gasped and choked up pink spit. “I know what you want. Your man. I fucking knew Convict was a plant the minute Red brought him in. You can’t hide that shit from someone like me. I’ve been around the block. I’ll always guess your next move, and son, that was weak. Just as shite as Red’s judgement. He should’ve listened.”
Something flickered in Shade’s eyes.
He lifted his gaze to Cassie, and I followed suit. She thumped her chest. Shade nodded like her meaning was obvious. The answer filtered into my mind. They were hunting for Bronson’s weakness. She’d mimed bravado. No—pride. Bronson had an opinion on Convict that Red had ignored.
I barely knew anything about Convict, other than he’d been forced out of the skeleton crew the evening I came to rescue Everly from the nightclub. So he’d been a double agent.
“He’s dead,” Bronson finished. “There. We good? No more fake phone calls home. No more bullshit jobs. He’s a corpse.”
Shade recoiled in shock. With a curled lip, he sliced into Bronson’s index finger. Blood dripped. The man screamed. Shade wrenched his hand down to the chair’s armrest and finished the job of severing it.
He tossed the finger to the floor. “Ye killed him for no reason. We wouldn’t take him back.”
Bronson bucked against his ties. Blood flowed from the stump and dripped to the floor. Shade sighed then collected a med-kit, efficiently bandaging up the wound.
“Wouldn’t want ye dying on me. Not when there’s more I need.”
Bronson flushed red. “Why in God’s bitch name am I here then, Michaels? What information do you need? Need me to tell you about your mama’s loose cunt?”
Shade palmed a knife and took it to Bronson’s neck. He pierced his skin with the tip, blood oozing out in a trickle.
Bronson’s hands trembled again.
“You’re right that Red doesn’t care that you’re here. As far as he’s concerned, you’re an old man and no use to him. I heard he’s already put out a call for a new second-in-command. He’s replacing ye.”
Bronson’s composure broke. “That fucking piece of shit. He doesn’t have the stones to go it alone. I’m the brains behind the Four Milers and have been for twenty years. They’re mine.”
“Not anymore. Word on the street is he has a first choice. Someone who proved they’re as ruthless as he needs.”
Shade was winding in a fishing reel with Bronson locked on to the bait. He’d gone for the man’s pride. He’d hit the mark.
Lowering to capture Bronson’s furious gaze, Shade smiled coldly. “I don’t think ye know anything that will help me. I’m out of here. Enjoy the music while I’m interviewing the others.”
“Wait! Who else did you take? They won’t talk for shite. What the fuck is your game plan?”
“They already did. How do ye think I know about Red’s new boy? Whether ye make it out of here or not, your role just got downgraded to lackey.”
Shade tossed me the sack to put over his head again. Bronson’s protests muffled but didn’t stop. Not when we untied him and splayed his arms out wide. Only when he was inverted did the anger change to a moan.
The three of us left.
Anticipation curled up in me. What had we got? Shade hadn’t asked any questions about the murdered women, or why Cassie had been next. If Moniqua had gone running to him with Cassie’s name, we were none the wiser.
Except outside the door, with the music blaring and killing my eardrums, then muting as the bunker closed, Cassie and Shade shared a slick high five.
“Got him,” she said.