Chapter 10 Chopped Up
Chopped Up
Lore
“Hello, Frank.”
“Holy shit!” Frank yelped, his hand halfway stretched toward the kitchen’s light switch and obviously paying no attention as he meandered through the doorway.
Not that his house was particularly guarded.
More of a sandcastle than a fortress. His security system was so easy to break it was laughable, taking less than five minutes on my laptop to get into his Wi-Fi router and shut everything down.
He didn’t even notice me following him from his office into the living room before looping around to cut him off in the kitchen, flicking on lights along the way as he shuffled along in his slippers.
For someone who had a couple of innocent women locked in his basement, he was much too relaxed just trudging around like this.
I leaned my hip against the counter close to the door we came from while adjusting the black gloves on my fingers.
They were water-resistant and molded to my hands, the best purchase I ever made for my job.
Especially with the extra silicone padding on the fingertips that let me use my touchscreens.
Actually, that was a lie. The mask I currently wore with the neon pink lighting inside was the best purchase I made for my job. Especially when sleazebags like Frank recognized it from my cam work. Then they knew exactly who was gunning for their asses.
“Frank, Frank, Frank. You should invest in some better security, given the dirty little secrets you keep.”
“What are you talking about, bitch? How the fuck did you get past the guards?”
“Psh, really? What feckin' guards, Frank? You mean that singular one now dead in the guard booth?” I laughed and crossed my arms. My right hand gripped one of the small flash drives, holding all my incriminating evidence tightly, tucked under my elbow. “Now, I asked you a question. What is the great tech savant Frank DeNiro doing holding his precious info on his home computer with a shitty firewall? Unless… you’re not a tech savant? Now, that would be a shame, wouldn’t it? Bad for investors, I’m sure.”
I pulled my hand out to show the thumb drive, and his beady blue eyes zeroed right in on it. His Adam’s apple jumped as he gulped nervously.
“Whatever you think is on there, I assure you it’s nothing. Probably some fucking family pictures from vacation.”
“Huh,” I turned my head as if looking at it anew. “Wouldn’t that be something? Whelp, guess I can just get rid of this then, can’t I?”
Staring him dead in his flabby ballsack of a face while his breaths grew increasingly erratic, I flicked the drive straight into the sink. It fell into the garbage disposal with a thunk before rattling around inside.
Frank seemed to deflate, slumping against the white door frame in relief. “Goddamn woman, you are going to regret ever setting foot in my house, you dumb bitch!”
My eyes did a heavy roll. Not that he was able to see it, sadly.
Otherwise, he’d know how little of a shit I gave in what he threatened.
“Can’t you come up with a more creative insult?
Also, there were no pictures on that drive.
But I can tell you what is on there…” My voice trailed off in a teasing lilt.
“For example, all sorts of very illegal pornography and evidence of human and shifter trafficking.”
At this point, all the color had drained from his face, now resembling a corpse he was so pale. “Wha—How—Wh, “ he sputtered. Words were apparently too difficult for him right now. “What do you mean? You’re a fucking hacker?”
“Among other things, yes. Currently, I’m probably your worst feckin' nightmare. Because I know exactly what’s in those data warehouses, and I know what’s in your basement.
And I’m positive the people you report to would be very unhappy to find your security breached.
Rather dark group you hang with, isn’t it, Frank? ”
“You’re lying,” he snarled. “There’s no way you got into that server! Not by yourself!”
“Yes, yes, just like I shouldn’t have gotten into this house.
And just like I didn’t get into your computer and pull just a smidge of the videos of women on the black market you’ve been sending out to potential buyers.
Let’s see, I think their names were Rebecca Minor, Hailey Ann Jones, Tina Becker, Chanda Pa—”
Frank’s hand had been inching slowly toward a toaster left out on the counter, obviously thinking I hadn’t noticed.
I had expected him to try and recover the drive before bashing my brains in, but I wasn’t surprised he’d taken this route either.
Finally, he snapped and yanked on it, ripping the cord out of the wall plug and lunging at me with his makeshift weapon high overhead.
The wild light in his eyes as he tried to brain me was enough to confirm he knew all those women’s names.
I sidestepped his flailing attempt and tripped his left foot with my boot.
He nearly knocked himself out on the corner of one of the overhead cabinets and lost his grip on the toaster.
Then I punted it straight through the doorway into the dining room with a kick of my heavy boot. “Goal!” I yelled and tossed my arms up.
That only pissed him off more. Frank scrambled from where he leaned over the countertop, trying to wrap his feeble old hands around my throat to choke me.
Frank stopped like he had come to the end of his leash when I pulled the other thumb drive up between us to dangle it over the sink, the one I made to ensure he wouldn’t try anything shady.
The brand name imprinted around the drain assured me there was a high-quality disposal in there.
One that advertised being able to grind chicken bones.
Perfect.
“How many of those fucking things do you have?” he snarled. Frank’s chest heaved with every strained breath, eyes wild as they flitted between my covered face and the drive.
“Touch me, and I drop this flash drive that has the kill code for my program to join its little friend down there. If I don’t plug this into my computer in two hours, every single file you’ve ever uploaded to DeNiro Technologies’ data warehouses you have in Utah and Tel Aviv will be wiped from existence.
I won’t bore you with the details. You look like someone who still struggles with texting.
But I can guarantee your shareholders and clients wouldn’t be happy to lose all their data. ”
Face turning purple with rage, Frank lunged at me again with his wrinkled hands curled like claws. He made his choice, then.
I flicked the drive into the sink, where it clattered against the pristine stainless steel and bounced into the disposal with the other.
Frank tilted to the side as if torn on whether to go for it or wring my neck.
“Uh-oh, slippery hands,” I wiggled my gloved fingers.
“Last one, though, I promise.” Which was a total lie.
A bitch had backups for her backups when it came to incriminating evidence.
A brief moment of indecision flickered in his watery eyes. With a curse spat from his thin lips, Frank dove for the sink and shoved his hand straight into the drain. I leaned against the counter, a hand cradling my jaw, inching closer and closer to the little row of switches lining the wall.
“Oops.”
Quicker than Frank could pull back, I flipped all three switches. Two of them turned the lights on under the cabinets and above the sink. And the third was the one that meant business, filling the air with a satisfying grinding sound as the disposal caught his hand.
“AAAARRRRGGHHHH!” The deafening wail from Frank, along with a spectacular geyser of blood coming from the sink, filled my cold little heart with glee.
He tried desperately to yank his hand from the metal teeth, but I slammed my forearm across his upper back to pin him in place with my full body weight.
With the other, I pushed his right arm even further into the drain.
Vibrations from the grating and grinding of the machine traveled up his arm and straight into the part of me that got totally turned on by this kind of gruesome, gory body horror come to life. I tried not to groan wantonly watching the bottom of the sink fill up with beautiful red blood.
“You… fucking psycho bitch!” Frank’s voice lost the bite from before. He was obviously starting to wither from blood loss.
“Oh,” my lips made a little moue, not that he could see it behind my mask. “You’re giving up already? I guess the drive is pretty busted now, huh? What a bummer!”
Slowly, unsteadily, with hatred burning in his eyes until his last second, Frank slouched over the sink as the garbage disposal continued its whirring and grating.
The sound of the blades crushing whatever piece of his arm they could touch gave me the tingles.
But alas, I had to flip the switch off eventually as an acrid burning smell wafted from the drain.
His arm was stuck almost to the elbow, his body slumped over the edge of the sink enough to keep from falling to the floor.
The motor was likely burned out now. Boo.
I wish that motherfucker Frank had a much longer torture session than what I gave him. Hell was too cold a place for that shit-smeared asshole.
My brother, ever faithful, showed up a mere twelve minutes after our call. I was perched on the counter, idly doom-scrolling my socials with my one clean glove, and enjoying the scuffs my boots made on the white cabinets as I kicked my feet against them.
Who I wasn’t expecting was Grant, creeping in from the back door just three minutes prior to my brother.