Sea of Redemption (Blood and Sand #6)

1. Prologue

Chapter one

" S hut it, Fucker!"

The sickening stench of rotting flesh assaults my senses as I drag the rusted metal cart across the cold concrete floor. My latest prize cowers in the corner, his trembling limbs rattling the chains that bind his wrists and ankles.

Fucker has been screaming at me for the past ten minutes, spitting venom and curses in a pathetic attempt to rile me. That’s what I’ve decided to name him. Fucker. As if a few empty threats and insults can undo the damage he's done.

The rage simmers in my gut, clawing up my throat in a roar.

I slam the cart to a stop, sending a violent clatter through the basement. Fucker flinches but that insolent sneer stays plastered on his face.

My hands curl into fists, knuckles cracking. "You think this is a fucking joke?" Each word is punctuated by a slam of my fist against the metal tray.

He jerks against the chains. "Go to hell!"

I grab a wicked knife from the tray, testing the edge with my thumb. A thin line of red wells up, the sting sharp and sweet.

"I've already been." My lips twist in a humorless grin as I stalk toward my prey.

He tries to scramble away on the cold floor but the chains won't give.

"Now, you get to see what hell really looks like."

The knife flashes under the dim light as I bring it down in a graceful arc. A strangled scream fills the air, echoing off the basement walls.

This is just the beginning, and I can already tell it's going to be fun.

A floorboard creaks behind me. I glance over my shoulder to find Devon descending the stairs, a wicked gleam in her eye.

"Can I join in?" she asks, practically purring.

My lips curl up. "By all means."

Devon strides over to the cart, surveying the array of tools with a calculating gaze. She selects a small blowtorch, the flames dancing in her eyes as she tests it. “I’ve been wanting to check this out for a while now.”

Fucker’s eyes widen in terror, flitting between us. But instead of accepting his fate, he renews his struggles against the chains, spouting off curses and empty threats. As if he has any say in what's about to happen.You'd think my little trick with the knife would have given him a clue. Some people just aren't very smart.

Devon saunters over, the blowtorch in hand. "Now, now. There's no need for that kind of language." She clicks her tongue, and then glances over at me. "We're going to have so much fun together. Aren't we, Brick?"

"Absolutely." I hand her a knife, watching in dark delight as she drags the tip down the bastard's cheek. His screams fill the air, high-pitched and desperate.

She laughs, the sound light and airy. "Music to my ears."

The blowtorch ignites with a roar, casting an orange glow over Devon's face. She wields it with expert precision, searing the bastard's skin inch by agonizing inch.

His shrieks pierce my skull but I relish every moment.

Devon is a vision of beauty and death, embodying cold perfection. Together, we'll make this bastard suffer in ways he's never imagined.

Because he deserves it, and because we want to.

Devon withdraws the blowtorch, tilting her head as she regards our victim. He's sobbing and trembling, reduced to a whimpering mess. Pathetic.

"Why have we chosen this guy, anyway?" Devon asks, curiosity etched into her tone. "He seems rather unremarkable."

"You would think, based on his appearance." I fold my arms, admiring her handiwork. The bastard's torso is a ruin of burns and blisters, the acrid stench of charred flesh hanging in the air. "He's been drugging women at the island's nightclubs, including ours, and assaulting them. Left the last few in hospital, and from the way he’s escalating, it’s not long before he’ll begin to murder."

Devon's eyes narrow, flickering with cold rage. "Is that so?"

Fucker cowers under her gaze. "N-no, I swear it's not true! I didn't do anything, please, you have to believe me!"

Devon smirks. "Liars get punished. Isn't that right, Brick?"

"Always." My hands clench into fists as I stalk toward Fucker. He's still lying, even now, the worthless piece of shit. I grab his hair and yank his head back, baring his throat. "Perhaps you'll be more forthcoming after I skin you alive."

Fucker screams, writhing against his restraints.

Devon watches with a predatory gleam, blowtorch at the ready.

"Please! I'll tell you everything, just stop, please stop!" The bastard dissolves into hysterical sobs.

Devon sighs. "How disappointing. I was hoping for more of a challenge." She shrugs, flicking on the blowtorch again. "But if you insist on giving up so easily..."

Fucker’s shrieks echo through the basement, like music to my ears. Tonight, he'll get exactly what he deserves.

And Devon and I will have our fun.

After a few more ministrations with the blowtorch’s cruel flames, Fucker passes out, his ruined body slumped in its restraints.

Devon wipes her brow. "Well, that was entertaining."

I chuckle and squeeze her shoulder. "It was. You're a natural."

Devon grins, sharp and wicked, her eyes gleaming. "I learned from the best." She glances at Fucker and her lip curls with contempt. "He didn't last long."

"Pathetic," I scoff. A wry smirk tugs at my lips as I notice Devon’s knuckles, stained crimson with blood. She's been training again, for moments just like this. "Lucky for us, we have all night."

Devon's eyes darken, meeting mine. “Oh really? What did you have in mind?"

A low chuckle rumbles in my chest. "Patience, Devon," I growl. "We’ve only just begun."

Fucker stirs with a groan. Devon's eyes light up as she turns toward him, blowtorch at the ready. She grins as she fires it up again.

Fucker screams, thrashing against his bindings in a futile attempt to escape.

I watch, entranced, as she works the flame over his already scorched flesh. His screams rise in pitch, ragged pleas for mercy tumbling from his lips.

Devon ignores them, her focus intent upon her task.

The scent of charred flesh fills the air, stronger now. I breathe it in deep, arousal stirring low in my gut at the heady combination of pain and fear.

Devon glances at me from under her lashes, her eyes dark with desire to inflict more pain. "Like what you see?"

Fucker’s screams fade to whimpers, his pleas trailing off into incoherent babbling.

Devon clicks her tongue in annoyance, switching off the blowtorch, and shakes her head. "Pathetic."

"It seems our friend lacks stamina," I remark dryly.

Devon huffs out an irritated breath, and crosses her arms over her chest. "I was just starting to have some real fun." She glares at Fucker, her eyes narrowed. "He's no fun when he's unconscious."

Amusement flickers through me at Devon's disgruntled tone. "There's always next time."

Devon's lips curve into a slow, wicked smile. She leans up on her tiptoes, whispering in my ear, "Promise?"

A throaty chuckle sounds behind us. We break apart to find Angel descending the stairs, one brow arched in amusement.

"Don't let me interrupt," she says lightly. There's a teasing lilt to her tone and her lips twitch at the corners.

Devon smirks, leaning into my side. "You're not interrupting anything. Our friend passed out before the real fun could begin."

"Pity." Angel's gaze flicks to Fucker's unconscious form, a glint of humor in her eyes. "I was rather looking forward to the show."

Heat floods my veins at the thought of Angel watching Devon and I torture this man together. I gaze at Angel through hooded eyes. "There's always a next time."

A slow, Cheshire smile spreads across Angel's face. She saunters over to us, trailing her fingers down my chest. "Is that a promise?"

"A guarantee," I murmur, fisting a hand in Angel's hair. I crush my mouth to hers, kissing her with a raw hunger that leaves us both breathless.

When we break apart, Devon grins at us.

"Shall we finish off this bastard now?" she asks. “We’ve let him hang on for entirely too long at this point.” Her tone is teasing. She’s enjoying every moment of this as much as I am.

Heat floods my veins at the promise in her voice. I grip Fucker’s hair, wrenching his head up. He blinks blearily up at me, his eyes glassy with pain.

"Time to talk," I growl. "Tell me everything about the bastards trying to infiltrate my clubs, or your suffering will seem like paradise compared to what comes next."

Fucker spills the details in a rush, desperate to avoid more pain. His intel is useful, giving me names and locations of the scum trying to encroach on our territory. The people supplying him with drugs, how he chooses his victims, the people who specifically encouraged him to target our venues.

Once I have the information I need, I snap his neck. His body goes limp, the light fading from his eyes.

I turn to find Devon and Angel watching me with lust darkening their gazes. Tonight will be filled with pleasure of the most sinful kind.

"As fun as this has been, I'm off to see Skyler," Devon says, eyes gleaming. "Care to join me for round two once you've finished here? I’m sure there’s some deserving bastard somewhere not too far away."

She cracks me up. Ever since her taste of torture at Tane Brown’s compound, she’s obsessed, and always looking for more. A torture addict, just like me. Plain and simple .

I sense she’s struggling a little with this new unhinged side of herself, but we all go through that at the beginning. I remember those days, although I was only a child. Dad, after all, taught me just about everything I know.

"Tempting," I say. "But I have plans for Angel that will likely keep us occupied for some time." I wiggle my eyebrows.

Devon smirks. "In that case, just make sure you don’t start without me next time. This was a lot of fun.”

I smirk. "You're a wicked girl, Devon."

"You love it," she says, and sashays up the stairs.

Once she's gone, I turn my full focus to Angel. Her lips are swollen from our kisses, her eyes dark with need.

"Shall we?" I ask, lifting a brow.

Angel smiles, slow and sinful, and saunters toward the stairs. "Catch me if you can."

I'm on her in a second, pinning her to the wall as I crush my mouth over hers.

She moans, tangling her hands in my hair to pull me closer.

My fingers hook under the bottom of her top, and drag it up her torso.

She arches into me with a throaty moan, her fingers unbuckling my belt.

Our breaths come fast and sharp, the air around us charged with need. I lift her shirt higher, baring her breasts to my gaze.

"Gorgeous," I murmur, palming one mound as I lower my head to take a nipple between my teeth.

Angel cries out, her nails biting into my shoulders.

I soothe the sting with my tongue before switching to her other breast, lavishing it with equal attention.

Her hands move to my jeans, shoving them down along with my boxer briefs.

My erection springs free, hard and aching.

Angel wraps her hand around my length, stroking firmly.

Pleasure rockets through me.

"Inside me," she gasps. "Now, Brick."

I lift her, pinning her to the wall as her legs wrap around my waist. Our mouths fuse as I position myself at her entrance and thrust home with one hard stroke.

Angel throws her head back and screams.

Devon

I walk out into the balmy night, still tingling with excitement from what took place in Brick's basement. My hands flex at my sides, itching to inflict more pain.

Brick understands me in a way no one else does. He sees the darkness that lurks inside, that craving for violence, and doesn't judge me for it. If anything, he nurtures it, helping me hone my skills.

I'm not as far gone as Brick, not yet, but I aspire to his level of viciousness and complete lack of remorse. He's a psychopath, no doubt about it, but it's not like the movies portray. Brick has depths, layers to his personality. He can be kind, in his own way. Witty and charming.

And he's the only one who truly understands this warped, ugly part of me—and teaches me how to do better. Like I'm his twisty little sister, and he’s my unhinged mentor of torture tools.

Don’t get me wrong—my guys love every part of me, too, but they don’t get my newfound need to torture, to inflict pain, in quite the same way. They do it out of necessity, whereas Brick and I do it for pleasure.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to find a text from Brick.

Brick: Enjoy your time with the surfer boy. You did well today. I'm proud of you.

A smile curves my lips and warmth blooms in my chest. Brick's praise means everything to me.

I'm on my way to being just like him, embracing the darkness that lives inside.

Brick is helping me become the monster I was always meant to be.