“You’re welcome.” He laughed. “Thanks for not arguing.”
Falling asleep wasn’t easy, but around midnight, I finally did. Not long after that, the memory-induced nightmares started.
Nightmares that were more memory than dream.
“How’d you find out?” I asked. Tommy and Al were taking turns punching me while I was chained to a chair.
“We spotted the feds at the meetup,” Al answered, punching me in the ribs. “So we called it off.” Another punch.
“But we didn’t leave,” Tommy said before punching me in the gut. “We held back and watched the buyer. And wouldn’t you know it? He was talking to the feds.” He backhanded my face, the hit splitting my lip and his rings slicing my cheek.
My blood stained the cuffs of his pale blue, long-sleeved shirt.
“What’s that got to do with me?” I played dumb.
More punches directed at my face and head had me seeing stars.
“We’re not done with our story,” Al said, punching me in the sternum hard enough to knock the wind out of me. “We waited until the buyer was alone, and we grabbed him.”
“He sang like a canary, gave you up to save his hand.” Tommy laughed as he landed another punch to my face. The swelling around my eyes made me squint; the blood seeping in tinted everything red.
Al’s villainous laugh might’ve been comical if it hadn’t made me sick to my stomach. “I kept my word. He died with both his hands.”
The meeting was part of the joint operation between Hawken’s and the FBI, but I didn’t know who they sent to pose as a buyer. I still didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting out alive and taking these two bastards down.
Tommy stepped back and admired their handiwork. “He wasn’t as strong as you.”
“But you’ll break, Nathan. Everyone does,” Al said with a sneer, using my first name.
If the buyer had ratted me out, why the games? Why not just kill me?
Fearing the answer didn’t stop me from asking, “Didn’t the buyer already ‘sing like a canary’ and tell you everything you wanted to know?”
“He would have, but Tommy was so pissed off when he found out you’re the fucking mole he got carried away and killed him after he coughed up your real name,” Al said, giving his brother a scathing look. “So now we’re asking you. Let’s start with a simple question: Who do you work for?”
I wasn’t sure who scared me more—Tommy and his volatile temper or Al and his calm sadistic smile.
“Go to hell.” My pink spit added more color to Tommy’s shirt.
The scene changed in my dream.
I was hanging by my wrists from a meat hook in the ceiling. The metal shackles dug into my flesh, the rough edges shredding my skin anytime I moved. Tommy doused me with water before using an industrial-sized power generator to shock me.
The pain in the dream forced me awake with a jerk. I bolted out of bed and onto my feet, reaching out to protect myself before realizing I was alone in my room. My hand came away wet when I ran it through my hair; sweat covered my body.
The face of my watch lit up when I tapped it. Three-thirty.
I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, so I drank a glass of water and headed for the bathroom.
The hot shower felt good as it washed away the images of my lingering nightmare. Needing something to do, I cleaned my pistol. The ritual always calmed my mind.
Knowing I needed sleep, I opened the sleep app on my phone and turned on some white noise.
Chapter 15
Ashley
During breakfast Friday morning, Gran droned on about how nice Jack was and how I needed to find a hot—she said handsome, but who says that anymore?—protective man like him. I agreed. I wanted a man like Jack, but didn’t think it’d happen. There weren’t many single men like Jack left in the world.
