Chapter Ten Lakey
The bathroom light flickered as we dragged Skeeter's squirming body across the grimy tiles. His muffled whimpers echoed off the walls, music to my ears. I couldn't help but hum a cheery tune as I zip-tied his wrists to the rusty bathtub handle.
"There we go, all snug as a bug," I cooed, patting his tear-stained cheek. "Now, wasn't that fun?"
Skeeter's eyes bulged with terror, darting between me and Cam. God, I loved that look. It never got old.
I leaned in close, my lips brushing his ear. "Listen up, my sweet little pig. You've got two choices here: spill your guts, or we'll spill them for you. Easy peasy, right?"
My voice was meant to calm, to soothe, much like a vampire's would if they were real, but let's face it, I usually had the opposite effect. Maybe I needed something more poignant to be seen as a non-threat. Like if I lost the knives. Or the maniacal grin.
Neither was going to happen, but sometimes I liked to think ‘what if’.
Behind me, I heard the rhythmic snick of Cam's butterfly knife as he flipped it open and closed.
Such a show-off, but damn if it didn't add to the ambiance.
To be honest, it made me want to jump his bones.
His brand of violence was always lyrical and mine was messy.
Together, we were something to be admired.
"Tick tock, Skeeter," I sing-songed, trailing a finger down his trembling jaw. "What's it gonna be?"
My mind raced with possibilities. Would he crack right away? Or would we get to have some real fun first? The anticipation was killing me. Well, it would be killing Skeeter soon enough if he didn't wise up.
The bathroom was small. Smaller than it needed to be for three people, one of whom was the size of a small rhinoceros.
Cam was leaning against the doorframe, blocking the only exit, which was both strategic and annoying because now I couldn't pace.
I liked to pace during interrogations. It made people nervous when a small blonde woman with knives strapped to her thighs walked circles around them.
It was my thing. But no. Cam and his giant shoulders had claimed the doorway and Skeeter and his giant everything had claimed the tub and I was stuck in the two feet of floor space between them, trying to be intimidating while also trying not to step in the puddle of piss that Skeeter had contributed to the ambiance approximately thirty seconds after we'd zip-tied him.
Lovely.
I turned and caught Cam's eye. That darkness made my heart skip. God, he was magnificent when he got like this, all murdery and shit. I had half the mind to bend over on the sink and let him have his way with me, but then he'd kill Skeeter and we'd all be fucked.
Focus, Lakey. Business before pleasure.
I turned back to our captive, cocking my head with a Cheshire grin. "C'mon, sugar. Don't keep a girl waiting. You know how impatient I can get."
And wasn't that the understatement of the century? But Skeeter didn't need to know just how badly I was itching to make him scream. Not yet anyway.
The real fun was just beginning.
Skeeter's eyes darted wildly, searching for an escape that didn't exist. I could practically smell the fear oozing from his pores, mixed with body odor and whatever the fuck he'd eaten for lunch. The man sweated like a faucet on a good day. Under duress, he was basically a human sprinkler system.
"I-I know where the Almines are," he stammered, voice cracking. "But... but Janine's remarried now. And John... John's dead. Heart attack."
My grin faltered, a scowl creeping across my face. Well, shit. That wasn't part of the plan. I'd been looking forward to a little reunion with dear old John. Guess karma beat me to the punch.
"Dead, huh?" I mused, tapping a finger against my lips. "That's... disappointing."
Disappointing was putting it mildly. John Almine had been on my mental shit list since before I could form coherent memories of what he'd done to me.
My body remembered even if my brain didn't. The way my stomach clenched at the sound of a man's voice in a certain pitch.
The way I flinched when someone grabbed my wrist from behind.
Those reactions belonged to John Almine and Janine Almine and whatever they'd done to me in those early years before Carmen's house.
And now John was dead from a heart attack, which meant he'd died peacefully, probably in a hospital bed with people holding his hand and telling him they loved him.
He didn't deserve that. He deserved me.
But you can't kill a corpse, so I pushed aside the rage away and moved on. Lakey Aldrich: compartmentalization queen since age seven.
Skeeter nodded frantically, words tumbling out in a desperate rush. "Janine lives nearby. They've even got a foster kid now. But I swear, they're not hurting the child. They're different now, I promise!"
A laugh bubbled up from my chest, sharp and bitter. I waved my hand dismissively, cutting off his pathetic excuses.
"Oh, honey," I cooed, leaning in close enough to feel his panicked breath on my cheek. "You really expect me to believe that leopard changed its spots? Please."
People like the Almines didn't change. They just got better at hiding it.
A new husband, a new house, a new foster kid to play happy family with.
The system handed children to people who'd already proven they couldn't be trusted with them, because the system didn't track, didn't follow up, didn't give a fuck.
Sarah had moved us out of the Almines and into Carmen's, and nobody had ever gone back to check if John and Janine had gotten another kid to replace us.
But they had. Of course they had.
My mind whirled with this new information. Janine, playing happy family? As if she could ever be anything but a monster. And now there was another kid involved? History repeating itself in the worst way.
I locked eyes with Cam, a silent conversation passing between us. Time to change tactics.
"Well, Skeeter," my smile was all teeth. "Looks like we've got ourselves a field trip to plan."
Cam stepped forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over our informant. He was so imposing, all the air in the bathroom was sucked out and I shivered as goosebumps broke out over my skin. This was always my favorite part.
"Now, let's talk about the Nuns," Cam said, his voice,. "Where are they hiding these days?"
Skeeter's face drained of color, his head shaking in a silent, frantic refusal. The fear etched into every line of his face was almost beautiful. Almost.
"Come on, man," I coaxed, running a finger along his jaw. "Don't clam up on us now. We were having such a nice chat. You said before you didn't know, and considering Father Christopher met with you, I'd say you do. Or at least, know how to contact them. C'mon, babe, just give me a little hint."
Cam's dark eyes shone with malice as he grabbed those fat cheeks and squeezed before releasing and slapping him lightly. "I'd listen to the lady if I were you."
Skeeter's lips quivered, but no sound came out. I sighed dramatically. "Well, can't say we didn't try the nice way."
Without warning, Cam's hand moved. The knife flashed in the dim light, and then—
Skeeter's scream filled the room, a raw sound of agony that bounced off the tiles and burrowed into my bones. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the thin strip of skin dangling from Skeet's face.
"Jesus," I breathed, equal parts joyful and aroused. Cam's capability for violence never failed to send a thrill through me. "Warn a girl next time, would ya?"
Cam's lips curled into a smirk. "Where's the fun in that, baby?"
I giggled, the sound overriding Skeeter's whimpers. His face poured blood, splashing onto his chin and dribbling down his neck, soaking his shirt. It was beautiful and part of me wondered what he would look like if his whole face looked like that.
This poetic violence was why Cam and I worked so well together. If I needed him to jump, he’d ask how high. If I needed to jump, he'd bend down so I could use him to vault the stars.
"Aw, come on now," I cooed, patting my fingers on his sweat-soaked head. "No need for waterworks. Just tell us what we want to know, and this can all be over."
Skeeter's tear-filled eyes met mine. "I—I'll talk," he choked out. "Please, just... no more."
God, I loved it when they broke.
"The group home," he gasped, words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "Everything you need to know is there. Where Lakey stayed. During Cam's time in the clink. It's all there, I swear!"
My body went rigid. That hellhole where I'd rotted while Cam was locked away. Where nightmares were born. How did he know about that? How did he know I stayed there?
I straightened, my playful demeanor evaporating. "Now, Skeets, we just have one little issue..."
He swallowed, his tear-crusted eyes landing on mine. "Wh...what?"
"We don't know where it is. You see, a lot of my time there is a big, black hole. So, you're gonna need to refresh my memory."
He shook his head. "I don't... don't know where it is! Lakey, please, I swear—"
Leaning down, I grabbed his nuts and twisted. "Listen here you sweaty little piece of fuck, give me that address or I will cut your balls off and feed them to you. I'll cauterize the wound with a piping hot pan, so you don't bleed to death and make sure you die a very slow, very painful death."
Cam slapped my ass. "Damn girl, you trying to make me take that ass right now?" He leaned down to whisper, "You're gonna get it as soon as we're out of here."
I looked back and winked as Skeeter groaned in disgust. "What?
You don't like consensual sex, Skeeter? Makes sense, I guess.
Be hard to find it underneath that pot belly you carry around.
Is that why you picked an old lady? Blindness makes it easier to accept your fate, I suppose.
Anyway..." I sighed, leaning back and wiping my hand on his shirt. "The address. Now."
He started talking so fast I couldn't make out a word.