My fingers twitched for the knife I had buried in my suit pocket, but I didn’t dare put my hand in that direction. While it was likely I could slit the throat of at least one of the guards before they could react, I didn’t need a reason to get the cops’ attention. Not now. I had too much to live for and I couldn’t act without thought.
“You will regret it, Reyes.”
“Herrera.” He spread his hands in front of himself. “If you’re going to say my name, at least get it right. Well, technically it’s Herrera Reyes, but if youwantto Americanize it, it’s Herrera, my father’s name.”
I smiled. “I don’t care what your name is. The only person it’ll matter to is the one who’ll carve it on your tombstone after we kill you.”
His mouth twitched, but there was a deadliness in his eyes. It was a threat he took seriously. “We shall see, Aspen.”
He spun on his heel and swept away toward a black Jaguar F-Pace farther down the street. If Cillian ever saw that vehicle, he would hate Joaquin even more than he already did on principle—jealousy would do that to a man. I watched until they’d driven away, then cursed the fucker. He’d approached us here because he knew we couldn’t do a damned thing.
After a moment, I went to find Cillian, who was watching a crew from the medical examiner’s office bring out the bodies. We didn’t know the people who worked in this cash house, but it was hard to look at anyway. They were Company men and women, after all.
I stepped in close so only he could hear. “Joaquin was here.”
Cillian spun, but I grabbed him before he could rush off to find Joaquin to kill him.
“He’s gone.”
Cillian’s gaze blazed with anger and he shook his arms out of my hold. “Feck. Motherfeckers. The fecking balls on them.”
“I thought the same thing.” I smiled, which had him frowning.
“What?” he asked.
“Now that they know we’re in town, how about we do what we do best? Torture. I’m sure there are plenty of Reyes men around here who know where Joaquin will be and when.” I raised my eyebrows as excitement wormed its way through me, settling in my balls. My dick twitched at the thought of all the pain and blood. It had been a while since I’d put my knives to good use.
Cillian smirked. “Well, that’s one way to flirt, Aspen, isn’t it? I know exactly where to start.”
6
CILLIAN
The ocean poundedon the shore and the sound rang strangely in the tin shack we were holed up in. I glanced at the door, but the sun wouldn’t rise for several hours and there was nothing to see over there. The entire world was right in front of me, and the rhythmic sound of the water had my drowsy mind nearly in a trance.
“No more.” Blood plopped on the sand under our feet because there was no floor.
The salty air that blew through the cracks in the metal reminded me of trips to the seashore as a child. They’d never been pleasant. Da had always been in a foul mood and complaining about money lost while he wasn’t on the job. Ma had always insisted everyone deserved a holiday.
I took a deep whiff and the tang of blood ended up overpowering everything else. The man’s once handsome face was a ruin. I glanced down and kicked at one of his teeth. The first night Aspen had worked him over with his knives. I’d punched him, probably more than I should’ve, and both his eyes were swollen shut.
“Ye know what ye need to do to make it stop,” I said softly, pacing a circle around the chair that held our naked victim.
The oil in the lantern we’d found tucked away in a corner was almost gone and the flame flickered, dancing shadows across Aspen’s face. Drops of sweat glistened on his forehead. He was on his knees in front of the guy with his white shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, and as I rounded the chair again, I reached down to brush my fingertips over his lips. He glanced up at me and smiled. I’d been half hard for a while and my cock began to drive me crazy as it pushed harder against my suit trousers. Nerves skittered through my belly.
I was on edge and not because we were torturing a man. No, it had to do with the idea of fucking Aspen. How long had it been since I was worried about sex? I knew how to fuck and was damned good at it. I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt this way, not even the first time I’d stuck my cock in someone. If I was going to fuck Aspen, I didn’t just have to be good, I had to be the best. I let out a long breath and couldn’t look away from him.
The wind howled and a loud creak made Aspen and I both pause and look up at the flat piece of metal that counted as a ceiling, but the noise stopped as abruptly as it had started. I shared a look with Aspen, and he flashed me a grin. My chest squeezed. If I wasn’t torturing an arsehole myself, there was nothing better than watching Aspen do it.
“That didn’t sound good,” he said.
I shrugged. The small building wouldn’t withstand hurricane winds or even a mild thunderstorm. I suspected some beach bums must’ve put the walls and flimsy roof together with scavenged rope and bungee cords, but rather than housing anyone, the shack was serving the purpose of hiding our fun and games.
“What is your name?” Aspen asked calmly. His shoulders strained in a gorgeous way that had me licking my lips as he wedged the tips of his blades—the finest Honyaki steel—farther into the kneecaps of the man we’d grabbed from outside Seaside Liquor, a store that the Reyes’s owned. This man worked for Reyes, and we’d gotten word that he’d been spotted speaking with Joaquin at the store on occasion. We’d rolled in just as he’d been locking up for the night. Aspen and I had nabbed him with a minimum amount of fuss. I liked it when they fought more, truth be told, but the last two days had been interesting and more than made up for the flop of a beginning.
“Fuck off. Die,” the man muttered, same as he’d been saying all along.
I cracked my fist across his jaw, and he grunted while his head lolled as if it was barely attached to his body. Pleasure slammed my gut, and I reached down to cup my ready to go cock.
