Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Levi
“Do you want to be in the room when I deal with him?” I ask her as we sit in the truck outside the barn where I had my guys bring him tonight.
I let the fucker squirm in a holding cell in the basement of the casino. He was living like a cockroach in the dark, with no food and only a little water spilled as a puddle on the floor to keep him going while he wondered what we had in store for him next.
“I don’t know, honestly. Part of me wants to never see him again.
I'd forgotten how much I feel physically ill in his presence, how reviling he truly is. But another part of me wants to see him suffer. I want to see the fear in his eyes when he realizes that you aren’t just going to let him run free after everything.
” She has rosary beads in her hand, and her fingers slip over them in contemplation.
“Whatever you want is what we’ll do. But if you want to be part of it, let me know. We’ll need to make you look like a hostage, keep up the ruse for appearances. But it gives me ideas.”
“Ideas?” Her tone is curious. “Like what?”
“What would he have done to me if he’d gotten a hold of us like he’d wanted?” I ask.
Her face contorts with that thought, grimacing and shaking her head.
“I can’t imagine,” she says softly. She always gets quiet like this, used to making herself small for his benefit.
“You can. Your face tells me you can. So tell me what he would have done.”
“Torture you. Beat you half to death. Slice you open. It's anyone's guess how he would have continued. Chopping you up or using electric shocks. He’s inventive when he wants to be, at least with the things he would brag about to me when he was trying to scare me. He wouldn’t stop until you were a bloody pile of nothing.”
“And you?” I want to be sure he suffers a fate equal to whatever he might have tried.
“It depends on what he believes happened between us. If he thought you touched me, he’d make me pay for that. His jealousy would send him into a rage.”
“How do you want him to pay for it?” I ask, and she takes a deep breath. Her eyes dart back and forth out the window, and I can tell even the thought of him makes her uneasy. She still fears him even when we have him locked down, and that sends a chill through my body.
“He’ll never touch you again. I promise you that.
And if it’s too uncomfortable, you don’t have to talk about it.
I’m asking because whatever he would have done to us, that’s his worst fear.
And I want to make it come true for him.
I want every second of this today to be pure fucking hell for him,” I explain.
“What about getting information about my father?”
“If we get him to confess something we need about your father in the process, all the better. But my main focus is making him realize how badly he fucked up with you. Making him pay for anything and everything he ever did to you.”
“I think you overestimate how much my husband cares about me. I doubt you’ll get much that way.
You’d be better off offering him cash or leverage.
He’d probably betray my father easily for that.
If you gave him a better deal, I mean. I'm surprised it hasn’t happened yet.
Corey never was very loyal.” She shrugs.
“He cares. Trust me. The tattoo he put on you? The other women? That’s all because he wants you, and you don’t want him.
That eats at him. It'd fucking kill me to have a wife like you and have you hate my guts. I’d probably fucking hang myself.
Unfortunately, he didn’t do the right thing and listen to that instinct. But we’ll fix it.”
“You’re going to hang him?” She sounds surprised.
“In a manner of speaking.” I can’t help the morbid grin on my face. Torturing this man is going to be a simple pleasure.
I put him in the cell to fuck with him for a while, but I also wanted time to plot how I’m going to make him suffer. Any of the ways I could get him to talk for us and exact the most retribution possible for what he's done to her.
“Well…” She shifts in her seat.
“Well?”
“I do want to see him suffer. Of course some part of me does, but it feels wrong at the same time. Like I’m betraying the promises I made at the convent. It would make me feel like one of those peasants in the crowds of medieval movies. Cheering on his demise.”
“You’re not cheering on his demise. You’re cheering on him getting a taste of his own medicine.
The tiniest bit of justice for everything he did.
You don’t need to feel an ounce of guilt.
I’m doing this because I want to. I’d do it regardless of whether or not you were here.
I’m just happy to let you watch so you can know he’ll never touch you again. ”
“Touch.” She blurts before she takes a steadying breath. “Touch me in front of him.”
“Touch you?” I repeat, making sure I heard her correctly.
“Touch me like you’ve already been with me.
He doesn’t know the truth. It’ll kill him.
He obsessed over the fact that I wasn’t a virgin on our wedding night.
He said that my former boyfriend had ruined me for him.
Do that, and you’ll get a reaction.” She stares out the windshield, smoothing her thumb over her nail as she speaks.
“You’re sure?” I ask.
“I’m sure. I trust you.” She nods, turning to look at me.
I’m not sure she should trust me. Touching Zephyrine will be playing with fire. Doing it in the same room with him, I'll be tempted to make him understand how terrible he's fucked up. Like playing with gasoline next to a bonfire.