Prologue
Brutus
I’d never seen him like this before. The cold, calculating, andmurderousintent in his green eyes shone clear as day, as he crouched low in front of the guy in the chair.
“Wake the fuck up!” he growled, slapping the worthless soul that sat hunched over in the wooden chair, hands tied behind his back.
We were in the middle of one of Joshua’s underground fighting rings just outside of Portland. Technically, Connor owned the ring, but Joshua was more of the silent partner.
“Brutus! Wake him up!” Joshua ordered.
I peered over at the look of sheer hatred on Josh’s face as he kept his eye trained on the piece of shit still tied up in the chair. I shook my head slightly. Not because I felt sorry for the guy. He deserved exactly what he was getting. No. I shook my head because I hated the idea of getting blood on my suit. Nevertheless, as head of security for Townsend Industries and the Townsend family, I often found myself in these less than stellar situations. I didn’t regret it at all, I just wished I’d worn a different fucking suit. This particular Armani was my favorite.
I grunted as I retrieved the smelling salts from my left pocket and broke it open. “Wakey, wakey, scumbag,” I taunted as I waved the package a half an inch below the man’s nostrils.
Within seconds the guy’s eyelids were fluttering open. Well, open as much as they could seeing as how they were halfway swollen shut due to the beating Joshua had put on this guy not too long ago.
“Wha-what’s happening?” his frightened voice called out.
Joshua stood to his full six foot one inch height, towering over the man in the chair. “Memory lapse so soon?” His voice was eerily light, as if he were greeting an old friend. But the undercurrent of rage was there. Joshua couldn’t hide it even if he’d wanted to.
“Let me remind you of where you are, Mike. I can call you Mike, right?” Josh didn’t wait for a response. “As I was saying, Mike. Look at me!” he growled, slapping him across the face when his head fell, likely due to exhaustion and pain.
Michael Stephens. That’s who Joshua Townsend had tied up in the middle of the basement dwelling of this—from the outside—abandoned building.
“W-why am I here? Let me go!” Stephens demanded, earning him another vicious blow to his ribs. Joshua hit him so hard that the chair he was sitting in swayed and rocked, almost tipping completely over. It was only Joshua’s grasping Stephens by his hair and tugging that prevented him from falling over.
“You don’t make the fucking demands here.” Joshua took a step back, his bare chest heaving and soaked in sweat. He had indeed put a workout in on this guy. “An hour ago you were on a bus to the state penitentiary. Unfortunately, that bus got a flat tire. And in the midst of waiting for the next bus to pick the prisoners up, you, Michael Stephens, escaped.”
“What? No, no! That’s not how it happened!” Stephens shouted.
“Oh, so you do remember?” Josh questioned, again taunting his prisoner. “Good. Well, that may not beexactlyhow it happened, but that’s what the police and the marshals that are now hunting you will think. Don’t worry though. They’ll eventually find your lifeless body, eaten by the elements. Determine the cause of death was a wild animal attack. You know these woods are full of animals.”
He paused again, a dark look covering his face.
“I was going to let you live.” Josh made a disbelieving sound with his mouth as if he couldn’t believe his own words. “I was. I promised …” He trailed off. “I was going to leave you to the fucking courts to decide your fate. And they did. Seventy-plus years in jail. You would’ve never seen the outside of the prison walls before taking your last breath. I could’ve lived with that. I could have. It would’ve been hard as fuck, but I’ve learned to control my anger. And cops tend not to do too well in prison anyway. You wouldn’t have done well in prison. I planned on making sure of it. But see …” Josh paused, walking around Stephens who followed him as best he could with his head. “Then those fucking tapes came out. They were played in the courtroom. And I had to watch—” He stopped abruptly. “You’re a sick fuck. You would’ve gotten everything you did to those women behind the prison walls. But not after those images. No. You can’t continue to breathe the same fucking air I breathe.”
“I’m a cop!” Michael Stephens shouted as if that was going to gain his freedom.
“Not anymore,” I stated in a half-bored tone. “Remember? You were let go from the force while on trial.”
“A fucking cop who used his badge and fellow officers to intimidate women from coming forward.” Joshua’s hardened face stared down at Michael Stephens as if he was dog shit on the bottom of his shoe. And he was. “Gun,” Joshua ordered, holding out his hand in my direction but still staring at Stephens.
I pulled the glock nine millimeter that had been resting in my back waistband and slapped it in Josh’s firm hand. He held the gun up to his face and the eeriest smile I’d ever seen extended past his lips.
“This look familiar?” he questioned, strutting in front of Michael Stephens, holding up the gun.
“Wh— Help!” Stephens yelled.
A maniacal laugh fell from Josh’s mouth. “Yup, you do need help. I’m sure you’ll get plenty of it in hell.” And with that final statement, Josh aimed Stephens’ own service weapon at him, firing one bullet to his temple, silencing Stephens forever.
For a long while, Josh just stood there, staring. Finally, he turned his head, peering over at me.
“Get rid of this,” he stated in a businesslike tone. “Time to get your clean-up crew.”
“They’re already outside, just waiting on the okay to enter.”
Josh nodded. “Give it. We’re done with this place.” And just as calmly as if he were taking a Sunday stroll, he walked right past Michael Stephens’ lifeless body toward the heavy metal doors that led to the stairs, which pointed in the direction of the exit. Whistling. He was actually whistling.
