32. Time for a chat with pliers
Chapter 32
Time for a "chat" with pliers
TOMER
Sugar Bear:
At what point does love stop being enough?
My eyes blink repeatedly as I reread the words of her text. The raucous beating of my heart becomes distracting, so I have to read it a third time.
Divergent thoughts race through me in a blur.
How the hell does Violet manage to crack the foundation of my being with so few words?
Deafening and rebellious emotions claw at the inside of the box I’ve bound them in, desperate for me to turn them loose.
I resist.
Barely.
Instead of feeling —a useless exercise—I attempt to think . To logically dissect what’s happening in my head.
Is it merely because she reached out to me that I feel a spark of life flickering inside me? I wonder if any contact whatsoever would have evoked this response. What if it was a simple hello or a random gif? The middle finger emoji or another meme I don’t understand? Would I be contemplating dropping everything and running to her side this way if it was something like that?
Or rather, is it what she’s asking that has me ready to fall to my knees in front of her, offering her the world for another chance?
Muffled groans pull me away from my heavy thoughts. After a quick cleansing breath, I slip the phone into my back pocket.
If I respond now, I’ll undoubtedly say the wrong things.
I’m committed, given the captive at my feet and my peers flanking me.
Squatting down to where Skidmark’s bound and lying in the dirt, I yank off the bag covering his head. He blinks and flinches from the light.
Although it’s not all that bright in here, he was in a dark hood for at least two hours while I waited for Jonesy and Aaron to arrive. After the bomb squad found nothing alarming in the gift that was left for Mia, Jonesy called me back. Excellent timing. With Mia’s situation handled temporarily, the guys were willing to help me have a chat with this disgusting maggot known as Kadin Dean. Jonesy even offered up the perfect place for this... meeting . It’s his late grandparents’ strawberry farm in Plant City, a rural town about thirty miles from Tampa.
Skidmark has a little blood running down the corner of his head from where I clocked him with my gun. Not a twinge of guilt hits me for causing that. In truth, those dried red streaks give me a sense of accomplishment.
It’s only a sliver of what he did to Lettie.
What he did to so many other women.
Hovering over his body, I stare at him for several long seconds, debating where we’ll begin. So many options. All of them enticing.
He looks around, drool streaming down his chin around the ball gag and his head wobbling from side to side. As he surveys his surroundings, I let my eyes follow the same path.
We’re in a dusty old barn. No floor other than dirt and weeds. Farming tools and various implements hanging on rusty hooks on the walls. A broken-down lawn mower in the corner that hasn’t run in twenty years. An interesting piece of equipment with long spiral spikes, weathered and well-used. Empty bushels that haven’t seen a harvest in more than a decade. Banisters and poles made of rotting wood hold up the partially dilapidated roof.
Well, time is wasting.
I reach forward to remove the ball gag so we can have our discussion . Like the punk bitch he is, Kadin shirks backward.
“Just taking this off,” I intone with no feeling in my words.
He steadies and lets me unclasp it. His beady eyes shift from me to the men at my sides, and fear weasels its way out of his mouth. “I only do what they tell me to do. I’m not the one you want.”
A dark laugh echoes off the barn walls, originating from behind my right shoulder. That would be Jonesy.
His boots kick up a small cloud of dust as he kneels beside me. Leaning close to Skidmark’s unctuous frame, he gets right in his face. “Shut your cock holster until we ask you a question. Besides, you’re definitely the right person. You know how I know?”
Jonesy doesn’t give the shit nozzle a chance to answer. “I had to carry a thirteen-year-old girl into the ER the other night. This child was so traumatized by what you were told to d o to her she urinated on herself at the mere sight of me. She was fucking terrified that I was going to hurt her like you did.” He backhands Skidmark powerfully, making his head kick back from the force. “You’re exactly the person we want here tonight.”
Kadin spits blood in Jonesy’s general direction, who barely flinches. “Fuck you.”
I waste no time taking over. “Do you smoke?”
He doesn’t respond.
“He must be the quiet type like you,” Jonesy says to Aaron, who’s pacing around us, adding an air of foreboding to the scene.
“Be nice, guys. Let’s give him a drag,” Aaron husks in his trademark gravelly tone. He could make a nursery rhyme sound menacing when he talks like that.
I pull out the lighter and a cigarette I removed from Kadin’s pockets when I frisked him in the trunk. Turning it around, I put the filter side toward his mouth. “Open up.”
With his face contorted in fear or disdain, he opens his mouth to let me place it between his lips. He squirms when I flick the lighter an inch from his face. Fucking coward.
“Don’t be scared,” I tell him. “We’re not to that part of the night yet.”
As I offer the lighter, he leans his mouth forward, bringing the edge of the cigarette into the flame. He inhales through his mouth a few times to help light it. To expel the smoke, he opens his lips around the cigarette while locking it in place with his teeth. He takes a few drags in this same manner since he doesn’t have use of his hands. We remain quiet, letting him enjoy his smoke before the pain begins.
We aren’t monsters.
Unlike him and his friends.
I remove the cigarette from his mouth. “Here. Let me help you with that, buddy.”
His head sags a little, thumping onto the ground. I give him a minute to breathe before I bring the cancer stick back to give him another drag. When I remove it again, I stare at the bright orange end of the cigarette, studying the ashen tips and embers.
“You know what this reminds me of?” I ask no one in particular. “When I was a kid, my father would smoke these damn things. It made me sick. The smell gets on everything. But that’s not what I hated most about it.”
No one says anything.
I examine the cigarette, rolling it between my thumb and forefinger. “One time, when I was about seven, I was walking by him, and his cigarette got me right in the neck.” I point at what remains of the slight scar. “I wasn’t being careful and walked right into it. Burned like hell.”
Jonesy makes a tsking sound.
I shake my head despondently. “When I look back now, I’m pretty sure my father did it on purpose. He was a sick fucker.”
Aaron shuffles his feet behind me, his pacing ceasing. “Can you imagine someone burning another human on purpose with a lit cigarette? An innocent, helpless person? What kind of monster would do such a thing?”
“That’s disgusting,” Jonesy chimes in. “Anyone who would do such a thing is truly a sick individual.”
“You know, since we’re all sharing. This story reminds me of something from my childhood,” Aaron starts.
“What’s that?” I ask.
Aaron removes the cigarette from my hand and takes a drag. “My abuelita read the bible to me every night. I believe it was in the Book of Exodus where they talked about an eye for an eye.”
Feigning interest, Jonesy responds, “And a tooth for a tooth.”
Pointing his index finger at Jonesy like a gun, Aaron clicks his tongue. “Bingo.”
For the first time, I don’t feel like the most fucked-up person in the room. It’s quite possible these two are as sick as I am.
“Hey, buddy,” Aaron taps me on my shoulder. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you say your girlfriend had some cigarette burns on her recently?”
Although she’s not my girlfriend anymore, I play along. “Yeah. One on each arm.” I darken my glare at Skidmark, my upper lip curling. “You wouldn’t happen to know how they got there, would you?”
Terror licks at the back of his eyes. He shakes his head no.
Filthy liar.
“No?” I purse my lips. “Hmph. That’s funny because she said you would know.”
Jonesy makes a gruff sound as his eyes shift to Kadin. “Are you calling his girl a liar?” Then he brings his large gloved hand around Skidmark’s neck and squeezes.
Gradually, Kadin’s inky eyes turn red with the loss of airflow. He wriggles around and attempts to answer the question. Sadly, all he can do is gurgle and gasp.
Jonesy releases his hold on the fucker’s neck. “I’ll ask again. Are you saying she’s a liar?”
Kadin shakes his head frantically, struggling for air. “No, she’s not.”
I tilt my head, feigning confusion. “So you do know how she got the burns?”
He nods.
I lift my brows, silently encouraging him to confess.
Taking another puff of the cigarette, Aaron moves into position on the opposite side of our captive. “Please enlighten us, friend. How did she get those burns?”
With Skidmark’s terrified eyes tracking Aaron’s methodical movements, he sniffles out an answer. “I was ordered to make it extra painful for her. I didn’t wanna do it. But these guys don’t give you a choice. I tried to talk them out of it. I even suggested we let her go.”
“Let her go? Bull fucking shit,” Jonesy scoffs, choking the shit head again. “Do we look stupid to you?”
While gulping for oxygen in vain, Skidmark looks at me with desperate eyes. Jonesy lets up on his choke hold just enough that Kadin can eke out, “Fuck man. Sorry. Didn’t want to do it. Made. Me.”
Asshole.
Through gritted teeth, I hiss out, “ You didn’t want to do it? What about what she wanted?”
As soon as the big guy releases his hold on the fucker’s neck, I’m unable to contain my ire. Rearing back, I punch him square in the nose, relishing the sound of the crack.
Rage pulses through my body, beckoning me to hit him again and again. To make him feel even a fraction of what he did to her.
But I don’t.
Clenching my hands into fists, I fight the compulsion to batter him to death. I need to get the intel out of him first. He’s no good to us if he’s dead.
“I had to,” he whines, tears filling his pathetic eyes. “I’m sorry about your girl. I had to. I swear.”
Exhaling my frustration through my nose, I arch a brow at Aaron. “I wonder what dear sweet abuelita would suggest we do with his confession.”
“This.” Without hesitating, Aaron jabs the lit end of the cigarette into the back of Kadin’s upper arm, searing a nice deep circle into his pasty flesh.
His pained screams are a sweet symphony.
Aaron removes the cigarette from Skidmark’s arm once it’s burned out.
“Turn him around. Other arm.” I light another cigarette from the pack, puffing enough to get a good burn going but not inhaling because that shit is fucking disgusting. “Lettie had two burns.”
“No, no,” Kadin cries, struggling in vain.
“An eye for an eye,” Aaron says while rolling him slightly.
“No!” he wails before Jonesy tightens his grip on his throat, cutting off his screams.
Once he has burns to match the ones he gave my sugar bear, it’s time to get answers. He’s primed.
“Playtime is over,” I announce, then point toward a post a few feet away. “Sit him up. Back against the post.”
While they’re positioning him, I remove a few things from my bag. Let’s call them persuasive items.
I approach him slowly, a predator stalking his prey. Kneeling in front of him, I open the case and start setting out the implements. Screwdriver, pliers, scissors, clamps, pokers, chisels, and so much more. All lined up, side by side like little soldiers, ready to go to war on my behalf.
In the service, I didn’t have to get my hands dirty in this way too often. Once the Army recognized how good I was behind a keyboard, my talents were best utilized there. However, the early days on missions with Deltas and SEALs, even some joint ops with the CIA, allowed me to channel a monster like my father. Someone who could hurt a bound man without flinching. When enhanced interrogation techniques were needed to achieve our goals, I could rise to the challenge. Despite never enjoying it, my ability to shut down my humanity made it passable.
Tonight?
I just might enjoy this.
As he scans the array of metal tools, he swallows, gulping so loudly it echoes around the barn. “Wh-what are you going to d-d-do to me?” His eyes bounce between the toys and my face.
Tools. Toys. Same thing.
In lieu of answering him, I glance casually between my partners, rolling the tip of my tongue behind my lips. “How far away did you say the closest neighbors are?”
Jonesy scratches his jaw. “Oh, let’s see. The closest farmhouse is a little more than two miles to the east.” He shifts his body, pointing toward the other side of the barn. “To the south, it’s a good five or six miles before any signs of life.”
Nodding animatedly, I grin like this is fantastic news. “Excellent. No matter what I do, no one will hear him scream. That’s terrific.”
My face goes slack as I stare into the soulless eyes of one of the men responsible for so much of Lettie’s suffering. “You asked what I was going to do to you, right?”
He nods and does another of those loud gulps. Almost brings a tear of joy to my eye to see him so close to pissing himself.
Perhaps I do need therapy. Sue might have been on to something.
“I considered hitting you with everything you did to my sweet Violet and all the other girls. You know?” I lean forward and grin, tapping his shoe with the back of my hand. “Chaining you to the wall. Kicking you in the ribs a half dozen times. Starving you. Withholding water and sleep. Beating you. Making you suck dick for permission to use the bathroom. Raping you repeatedly. Scratching you. Cutting you. Choking you. Whipping you. Humiliating you. Making you long for a death that will never come.” I pause, pursing my lips. “Wait. I forgot where I was going with this.”
Aaron laughs, the sound deep and twisted.
If fucking around with assholes like this one is wrong, then I don’t want to be right.
“Anyhow, we kicked it around and ultimately decided on another approach. Lucky for you—or not—we don’t have that kind of time. Plus, none of us want our dicks anywhere near you. So we’re doing it the old-fashioned way.” Dropping my gaze, I wiggle my fingertips over the various dental and mortician’s instruments laid out between us. “Let’s begin.” I select two starting tools and inch close to him.
“Hey now. Hold on. Come on,” Kadin pleads. “Tell me what you’re looking for. Maybe I can help you. Let’s talk.”
With a pair of needle nose pliers in one hand and pointy-tipped forceps in the other, I halt my approach. “Huh. You’re right. Silly me.” I shake my head, then pin him with a dead-eye glare. “Where’s Yevdokim Ivanovich?”
“I have no fucking idea,” he spits, not even a hitch in his chest.
It’s almost believable.
I’ll try a different question. “What helpful information can you give me about Viktor Lenkov?”
“What do you mean?”
I release a breath that’s part groan and part sigh, then rattle off a list of questions in my signature monotone voice. “Is he the only one in charge of the trafficking ring, or is his father? Does he have a partner? Who does he report to? Who reports to him other than you? Who does he trust? Who’s his right-hand man? Who hates him? What’s his daily routine? Where is he vulnerable? Who does he love? Who loves him? Where does he go on Friday fucking nights? Who sucks his dick? How do you get a hold of him when you need him? When are you supposed to see him next?” My glare intensifies. “Do you know anything of value? Why should I keep you alive?”
He bumbles and sputters through a series of inarticulate noises, none of them helpful. We’ve only just begun, and my patience is already spent.
“I thought you wanted to talk,” Aaron taunts, ruffling Kadin’s greasy hair.
“This is too much for our friend. He had a bump on his head earlier. Let’s cut him some slack. One question at a time.” Jonesy plays good cop for a beat. Kneeling, he gingerly pats down the wild strands of Skidmark’s hair that Aaron just mussed up. “Where’s Yev hiding?”
“I swear to you guys. No one has seen Yev in days. Everyone’s looking for him, though. He’s in deep shit with the boss.”
“Which boss?” I ask.
Skidmark tries playing dumb. “What do you mean?”
“Well, now you’re pissing me off, Kadin. Dammit . I thought we were gonna have a discussion. You’re wasting our time.” I glance up at the guys standing on either side of the creep. “Tilt his head back and open his mouth. He doesn’t need all those teeth where he’s going.”
I go to work, removing one tooth, then another. Before I remove number three, he finally has a helpful memory to share. Through tears and snotty sobs, he chokes out that Viktor alone oversees the trafficking group, as Lettie surmised. It’s the first big project his father has given him.
No real surprises there.
Now to test him a bit to see if he’s being honest.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Who were you with tonight in the bar?”
With a tight-lipped, blank face, he blinks seven times. Nope. Eight.
“Open his mouth again,” I snap at Jonesy while moving in with the blood-soaked extractors.
Skidmark jerks his face away from Jonesy. “Okay, okay, okay, fuck .”
I freeze, my hands lingering two inches in front of Skidmark’s mouth. “Who was she?”
“Lenkov’s woman. She does some of his talking for him.”
Need to ask a few more questions before I confirm which Lenkov he’s talking about—Viktor or his father, Nikolai.
“Why?”
He spits blood-tinged saliva on the ground. “We were talking about the flesh operation.”
Red flags start waving in the back of my mind.
“Specifically?” I prompt, giving him enough rope to hang himself.
“Well, we need new facilities since our prep houses were compromised.” He arches a brow at us, the accusation evident on his smug face. “We need more men. More recruiters since we lost our best three guys. We need lots more girls too. There’s a lot to do to get shit back up and running. And we’re under pressure. Time is money.”
“And she was... what? Relaying instructions from Lenkov?”
Come on, come on. Take the bait.
“Sort of.”
I crick my neck to the side, brows raised high.
“She was getting information to take back to Lenkov.” He pauses to swallow, likely buying himself time to think of something clever, but he’s already fucked himself into a corner. “She was also letting me know about some other shit.”
“Other shit?” Aaron echoes, his tone mocking. “Why didn’t you say so sooner? Maybe we should let him go now, guys? He’s done enough.”
One corner of my mouth quivers, threatening a smile. “What was she letting you know, Kadin?”
“Uh. I’m not entirely sure. You interrupted us before we got that far in our discussion. Something is happening this weekend. Some big shot is in town. I don’t know who.”
Interesting.
“What’s her name? The woman from the bar?”
I already suspect it’s Katia. Now, I need to know if he’s being honest. Further, his answer will confirm my suspicion that he’s full of shit about who’s in charge of the trafficking ring.
He doesn’t answer immediately, so I drop the dental tools and pull out my knife instead. I spin it around and offer it to Jonesy. “Remove the pinky finger.”
“Wait. No .” Skidmark suddenly finds his words. “What are you going to do to her?” His voice has grown hoarse.
“Are you concerned for her?” I drop my forehead and jut out my lower lip. “Do you have a crush on your boss’s mistress?”
“No, man. She’s pregnant.”
“No shit. What’s her name?”
“Don’t hurt her,” he warns.
When the iron twinge of blood floods my mouth, I realize I bit my tongue. Fuck.
I rear back and punch him, relishing the satisfying crunch of his cheekbone cracking. “You don’t want us to hurt a pregnant mafia mistress, but you were fine hurting my Lettie?” I punch him again. “Tina? Sara?” Two more punches. “Tasha? Sabrina? All the other girls you hurt?”
By the time I’m done raging and punching him—for now—his face is swollen, his lip is cut, and I’m fairly certain his nose is broken too.
Still not enough.
“Katia.” He rasps and gurgles, finally answering me. “Lenkov’s girl. Her name is Katia.”
Bingo.
“Listen up, fuckface, because I have an important question. Your answer might decide if you live or die. We already know Katia Sergeyevich is Nikolai Lenkov’s mistress. That’s old news, but at least you were honest about that. But something else you said must be bullshit. Here’s your chance to come clean.”
Blood trickles from his nose into his mouth. “Okay. I will. I promise.”
“Earlier, you told us Viktor is overseeing the trafficking ring. Not his father, Nikolai.”
“Yeah?” he warbles, confused and still fighting through the pain from my fist.
“Why the fuck is Nikolai’s mistress meeting with you about the trafficking ring if Viktor is the one in charge?”
“I . . . well . . . I mean . . .”
“Pinky finger. Take it,” I order, flicking my wrist at Jonesy and rising from the ground.
I need some space.
It’s not because I don’t have the stomach for watching his blood spill that’s bothering me. It’s that I don’t think this is going to work, and that’s pissing me the fuck off. His screams lose their luster.
Raking my fingers through my hair, I pace a few feet away from him, keeping my gaze on the barn floor.
I want the answers more than I want him to suffer. Fearing we aren’t going to get what I need out of him sends a million acid-tipped needles barreling through my head and chest.
Normally, I’m an unflappable rock for shit like this. Why feel remorse for hurting people whose life’s mission is to barbarically destroy the lives of the innocent? The ends always justify the means.
While they still do—I think—I don’t want to be part of this. Enough pain. Enough suffering. Enough fucking blood.
All I want is to be home. With my sugar bear.
I want to be James fucking Harris again.
No. Not him.
Tomer.
But better. A Tomer worthy of her love.
I need her to love me .
Leo’s words run through my mind.
Don’t wait. Fight for her. Don’t let her go.
Her words file through my mind right behind his. From the night I left her with Kri and the girls so I could talk to Savin and burn the nightmare house.
Come back to me the same man I fell in love with.
A man worthy of her love wouldn’t kill this man in a dirty fucking barn.
“Stop!” When I turn around, Jonesy and Aaron have Kadin’s hand splayed out on the ground, the blade only beginning to saw into his flesh.
At what point does love stop being enough?
I don’t know the answer, but I hope we haven’t reached that point yet.
Maybe it’s still enough.
I take out my phone and call Detective Patterson.
“It’s me. I have someone to turn over to you.”