Chapter 7 The Hunter
The Hunter
Lore
This mark was more of a nuisance than entertaining.
Just another punk with a wealthy daddy, thinking he was invincible because he’d been bailed out of some domestic violence accusations before.
I was already bored with his sniveling and whimpering, tied to his computer chair in the middle of his bedroom with a tarp laid out beneath him.
He had started crying as soon as I rolled it out.
“I’m curious, Gabe, if you’re as good at catching as you are pitching?
” My booted foot shoved against the corner of his chair and sent it spinning wildly.
The tire iron I brought lay across my shoulders as I hung both wrists on the ends, watching him come to a stop and strolling over to stand in front of him again.
“In my experience, bitches like you who like to watch others be tortured can’t take the heat themselves.
But I’m always open to being proven wrong! ”
“I swear, I’ll give you whatever you want, just—”
Crunch.
The satisfying give of his kneecap beneath the tire iron was enough to send chills up my spine.
Definitely better than edging myself on camera.
If only those slimy bastards who pretended they had tough stomachs in the chat knew what I really did to bad people, they’d probably toss their cookies like little babies.
Kneecaps were just so satisfying to crush.
“Oh, come now, Gabe! That’s no fun!” My voice modulator sucked out the fake enthusiasm and turned it into a robotic monotone.
“You had so many good ideas last night, where are they now? I’m just a girl looking for a good time!
Is it because I’m not twenty years younger?
FYI, that would put me at twelve, you sick fuck. ”
His dull brown eyes widened in fearful recognition. “No fucking way… Vixen?” he gasped through the pain. “You crazy… fucking bitch! When I tell my dad what you did, he’ll ruin you!”
“You’re not very bright, are you?” I tapped the iron beneath his chin, tilting his head up to an uncomfortable angle.
“And Daddy’s not home. I wish he was, so you could watch him turn the other cheek while I fuck you up real slow.
I let that little rat run his shady-ass dealings in my territory, so you can sit on your ass and reap the benefits.
” The cackle I let loose at his growing anxiety made him flinch hard.
“Hey, I know! Let’s call your dad. I’m sure you have some last words for him, right? ”
Gabe was a sniveling, snotty mess as I pulled my phone from the tight pocket of my black leggings.
His father was just as bad. I fucking hated that guy.
Sighing heavily, I thumbed through my contacts until Don “Bitchass” Sumpton scrolled by, and I tapped the screen to put the call on speaker.
He picked up on the second ring. “Yes, ma’am? ” he answered politely.
What a good boy.
Gabe immediately started wailing. “Dad! Dad, this crazy bitch has me zip-tied to a chair and broke my fucking kneecap, where the hell are you pleasecomerescueme!” His words began to run together into another gasping cry, more tears dribbling down his splotchy cheeks.
The line was quiet.
“How’s dinner?” I asked brightly, or at least as brightly as I could with the robotic modulated voice. “Jerel messaged me earlier saying the negotiations were favorable. My ten percent will be in the account tomorrow, yes?”
“The wire is being drafted as we speak,” Don’s voice was terse, but otherwise unchanged even as his youngest son blubbered in the background. Brutal.
“Great! Have the restaurant put a round of drinks on my tab for the table, as a congratulations. And tell Lisa I said hello.”
The threat was subtle, but Don wasn’t an idiot.
And he had a lot more self-control than his punk-ass son.
I already told him hours before why I was visiting.
He either risked his entire commercial development empire on Gabe’s predilections for child pornography, or turned the other way while I dealt with him myself.
And here we were, alone in his multi-million dollar house in a swanky suburb of Vegas. Don Sumpton knows I made him.
“Yes, ma’am,” Don responded again, and the line disconnected with no further discussion.
Gabe burst into a fresh wave of sobbing. “Please, I swear to God I didn’t mean to do anything wrong! Please just let me go, and I will never get into that stuff again!”
I swung the iron in a lazy circle, making him flinch as the tip just barely missed his face.
“You see, I would let you off with just a busted leg and a warning…” For a brief moment, hope sparked in those muddy eyes.
“But… I have this neat little trojan that I launch for anyone who logs into my camming site, hence how I found you. Wanna know what else I found?”
He gulped loudly in a pitiful attempt to hold back more tears.
“I found your IP in the history of several deep web sites. Sites that specifically cater to snuff films. And what kind of snuff films were you watching, hmm?”
The switch flipped in an instant. Gabe began to howl and thrash and spit all sorts of profanities, half of which I could even make out with how his voice cracked under the rage.
“You fucking cunt!” he finally yelled something coherent.
“You goddamn cock-sucking, raging bitch, you let me out right the fuck now or else I’m—”
I didn’t let him finish that sad little threat. On the next spin of the tire iron, I gripped it in both hands and planted my left foot forward, bringing it around in a baseball swing that had it whistling through the air.
Crack!
It made solid contact with the side of his jaw.
I got to watch the satisfying breaking of bone as his face wrapped around the bar, those few brief seconds of silence filling the air before the pain lit his ass up.
Whatever pretty-boy looks he relied on to get through life were long gone, now that his jaw hung unhinged and a gnarly gash opened up and began to bleed profusely.
All he could do was howl wordlessly, drool and snot and tears mixing together to drip off his crooked chin.
Poor little Gabe wasn’t a shifter and, therefore, much more delicate.
I didn't even put in half of my strength into that swing, knowing it would kill the little human too soon for my liking.
“Now that you’ve learned some manners,” that got me another hateful glare from his watering eyes, “I think we’re going to have a good time.”
Fear smothered the rage that flared briefly, reverting him back to his whimpering as I lined the tire iron up with his other knee. I was looking forward to a long, long night.
“Are you trying to traumatize the cleaning crew?” Taylor admonished as soon as I closed the door to his blacked-out SUV.
He threw a critical eye at my dripping mess.
“I’m glad I put the liners down this time.
Jesus wept, girl, you’re a feckin' mess! When can I catch a feckin’ break from chasing after you? ”
I waited until he pulled away from the curb to pull off my mask and push back errant strands of hair from my face.
Half of it had fallen from the high ponytail I’d pulled it up into with all my activities.
“Hey, they can stop their bitching! I kept the mess to one room this time. It’s not my fault your guys have weak stomachs.
I'll even make it easy on them. They can leave the body as a message to Daddy dearest, in case he gets any bad ideas to retaliate.”
His eyes did a roll so hard I was shocked they didn’t get stuck somewhere in his head. “Don was pissed, by the way. He and his wife left shortly after your call.”
“Bummer,” I answered drolly. “Guess they took the long way home. Or went somewhere else for desserts. He’s lucky I didn’t drag his shitbag of a son out into his front yard for the neighbors to see.”
“Do you want me to track them?” Taylor waited for a stoplight to turn his attention back to me. “The spotter noted his license plate when they left the restaurant. I can have the street cams checked.”
I waved him off. A chunk of… something flew from my hand and plopped on his dashboard, making him scowl at me.
“Don knows the rules, and didn’t keep his fucked-up son on a tight enough leash.
If he wants to start shit, he won’t get far in Vegas.
He’s lucky I didn’t fuck him up too, since his son was on his IP address. ”
Taylor shrugged, maneuvering the car to the left lane after the light turned green again.
“Fair enough. He has clubs of his own; Don knows there are no sex workers outside of Red Riot’s protection.
And the dark web… that’s its own fucked-up rabbit hole to go down.
You know I don’t like you being in there anymore. ”
“I’m a different person now, T,” I tried to reassure him. “Trust me, I won’t be getting caught again. Especially not by the likes of him.”
We had an unspoken agreement to not say the piece of shit’s name again.
Knowing him, Elio Messina would crawl out of the darkness in the back seat like a bad fucking nightmare.
Part of me wished he would, so I didn’t have to fly to Italy to exorcise his ass myself.
He probably had so many crooked authorities there tasked to flag my appearance, so it wasn’t like I could sneak up on him.
But I was biding my time. And I took my rage out on degenerates like Gabe Sumpton, who fueled the demand for sex traffickers like Elio.
“Jerel asked if we could stop by the club,” Taylor added, almost like an afterthought. “You think you can clean yourself up and be ready in thirty?”
I gave him some finger guns and a playful smirk. It probably looked more like I was a demented psycho, covered in blood and gore from head to toe. “You got it, bro. Tell him I’ll be there. And have a vodka cranberry waiting in the office.”