Chapter 52
Vienna
I washed in Dante’s bathroom, not wanting to wake Gabriella and have her question where I’d been.
I knew this one was too huge to keep from her.
Especially as she wanted to know what happened to her mother’s body, and even had Rachel and the other old ladies agreeing to help find her.
But I also didn’t want to tell her right now.
There was no point waking her up and ruining her entire day before it had even started.
I’d slipped back into bed with her, holding her close to me, silently concocting all the different ways I would make Nico pay for this.
The next day, I dropped Gabriella off at the garage, her eyes shining brightly with excitement.
She’d woken me up by slipping under the covers and sucking my dick until I exploded deep in her throat.
After she got out of the shower and I finally came back down to planet earth, she’d ridden me slow and steady, pushing us both towards a sweet release.
All morning she’d been talking happily about her day, what her plans were for fixing some of the bikes, and all the ways she was going to annoy Tools.
As I’d listened to her talk, I became more certain that my idea of keeping Nico’s “present” to her a secret was the right thing to do.
I planned to tell her what had happened later tonight, once the club had calmed down, people had gone home, and we were alone.
I wanted to spare her for as long as possible, but I also recognised I was on a deadline.
When I told her, I wanted to be able to reassure her that there was good news as well—preferably that we had Nico’s decapitated head on a stick.
But I’d settle with just knowing his location at least.
Kissing her deeply, I left her in the capable hands of my brothers and went to find Dante and Hacksaw to see if there was any news on the email tracing.
Nico was close. I could practically feel him nearby.
He’d fled whilst he regrouped, but this was an unstable man, and he was fast running out of patience.
At this point, it was clear that Gabriella was not just a random woman to him—not just his cousin or his fantasy old lady—she was his obsession. His fixation. And he was edging closer and closer to her every day.
Which meant we needed to find him before he decided to strike again.
Just as I was about to push open the door to the clubhouse, it opened for me.
“Fuck me, I’m magic,” I said, stumbling forward, my hand still outstretched.
Dante looked at me, propping the door open with his foot. “Are you alright or what?”
“Didn’t you see that? I thought about the door opening and, boom, just like magic.”
“Or just like I was opening it from the other side?”
“Nah, I’m not quite sure that’s what happened. I remember specifically.”
“You remember specifically what happened five seconds ago?” he said.
“I do. And the door opened by itself.”
“It didn’t.”
“Fairly certain it is. But it’s okay. You don’t need to be jealous that I’m a wizard and you’re not.”
“Whatever you say, Gandalf. Come on,” he said, stepping outside and letting the door close behind him.
Rude.
“Why did you shut the door on me?” I asked, wrenching it back open and walking over to the bikes.
“Thought you could open them with your mind, Carrie?”
“Carrie could move things,” I scoffed. “If you’re going to reference something, at least get it right.”
“How about reference the club rules about annoying the president?”
“I don’t believe such a rule exists. But if you’d like to put it in the suggestion box and—where are you going?” I asked as Dante climbed back off his bike.
“Well, I was going to take you to the location of where that email was sent from, but I see you’re in an annoying mood and I can’t be fucked with that. Let’s try again tomorrow.”
“No, no, I’ll be good, I promise.”
“I don’t believe you,” he sighed, swinging his leg back over the bike. “But I’m pretty damned invested in this now, so… let’s go.”
“Well, shit,” I said, looking around the small room of the second-floor flat.
“Shit isn’t a strong enough word for this,” Dante said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He pulled out his phone and brought it to his ear. “Yeah, we’re gonna need a clean-up crew here, ASAP… Nah, mate. One man ain’t gonna cut it. It’s a fucking massacre in here.”
Massacre wasn’t the right word either.
This was… there were no fucking words for what this was.
“You might wanna tell him to check downstairs as well,” I said, nodding my head in the direction of the pools of blood on the wooden floor. “Depending on how long that’s been here, there’s a high chance the downstairs neighbours are going to get an unwelcome shower in the next day or two.”
“Did you hear that?” Dante said into the phone. “I told you, mate. It’s a fucking red room.”
He had a point.
I walked around the room, taking my phone out and snapping pictures, emailing them over to Hacksaw on the secure system we had.
I took one of the walls with the blood sprayed up it, and then one of the bodies on the floor. The woman had her throat slashed, her fingers had been cut off, and her legs had been hacked to pieces.
The woman next to her wasn’t in any better state.
Her clothes had been sliced off her, and thick globs of semen were on her chest and face.
Her fingers were also missing, and a rope had been tied around her neck.
Her eyes were bulging and bloodshot, her tongue hanging out of her blue mouth, and all the veins in her face were visible.
Next, I walked around the sofa, taking a picture of the blood-soaked cushions, and that’s when I saw him.
“Shit! Dante!” I called over before crouching down and grabbing the chin of our prospect, turning him to face me. “I found Mike.”
“Ahh, fucking hell,” Dante grimaced as he looked over the back of the sofa, the phone to his ear.
“Confirmation of the location. This was definitely the girlfriend’s flat.
Mike’s here… yeah, he’s alive, pal. He’s playing a game of Scrabble with the dead bodies.
What the fuck do you think?” he hissed down the phone to Hacksaw, turning his back to me again.
I checked Mike over, looking for any sign of a message to us, but his death seemed relatively clean compared to the women’s. That was until I looked at his face closer, seeing that his lips were split at the edges.
“Why me?” I muttered to myself before placing the phone down and using my fingers to pry his cold lips open.
Empty.
His mouth was fucking empty.
No teeth.
No tongue.
“The message is pretty damned clear here,” I said.
“What was that?” Dante asked.
“His tongue has been cut out and all of his teeth removed,” I explained, pulling Mike’s chin down so Dante could see. “Clearly Nico didn’t want him talking.”
“Hacksaw, mate, just get here as soon as you can. I’ve got to go.”
He disconnected the call and pocketed his phone.
“Anything else?” he asked me.
I stood up, straightening to my full height, and looked around. The flat was relatively small, with an open-plan kitchen and living room. Three rooms branched off, one of which I could see was a bathroom since the door was already open, and I assumed the other two were the bedrooms.
I walked over to the bathroom and poked my head around the door, noting that it was relatively clean and small.
And thankfully free of a crime scene.
“Unless there’s something in the bedrooms, it looks like this is it,” I said.
“Which one do you want?” Dante asked as I came to stand next to him.
“Hell, no. You can take both.”
“I’m not taking both. You take them.”
“I found these bodies. You owe me.”
“I was arranging a clean-up crew. I wasn’t twiddling my fucking thumbs, Vienna.”
“Still left me to find these bodies. I’m fragile, Dante. This has emotionally drained me.”
“Like hell. I’ve seen you bite a man’s ear off.”
“I’ve seen you rip a man’s heart out.”
“I’ve seen you—”
“Dante… should I take the left?” I interrupted, knowing this wasn’t going to be an argument either of us could win.
We’d both done some dodgy shit.
It was best not to open that can of worms.
“I suppose,” he muttered. He stepped forward, his hand on the door of the bedroom farthest to the right, and nodded at me. I reached for my own handle, and we pushed them open at the same time.
“All clear here,” he said, sounding relieved.
“For fuck’s sake!” I hissed. “Why is it always me?”
“What? What is it?” Dante asked, walking over to me. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!”
“That’s a lot of fingers,” I said. “I didn’t even check Mike’s.”
“I’m assuming they’re on the bed then with the rest of them,” Dante said, pushing my back and nudging me further into the room.
“What does that say?” he asked, looking down at the severed digits.
“Too late,” I read. “I appreciate the artistic flair, but yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Quite clearly we were too late. Talk about stating the obvious.”
“Fuck!” Dante roared, his fist clenching. He looked down at the fingers once more, and then his fist was colliding with the stone wall of the bedroom. “Fuck!” he said again.
My sentiments exactly.
“He’s toying with us.”
“I know,” I nodded. “But it begs the question—if he’s now given up the location of his lair here… where is his new one?”
“You think he’s still in the city?”
“Without a doubt,” I said. “He’s come too far to retreat now. We need to start narrowing it down.”
“Yeah, preferably before anyone else gets killed.”
“Or at least let us offer a sacrifice. I vote—”
“Don’t finish that sentence, for fuck’s sake. Don’t give him any fucking ideas.”
“So you think Chicken and Rooster, too, then?”
“Vienna,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose a second time. “Just… go outside and wait for Hacksaw.”
“Need a moment alone to compose yourself?” I teased.
“Vienna…”
“Alright, alright,” I said, holding my hands up in surrender. “I’m going. Jeez.”