“Jesus.” I lean back in the metal chair I dragged from the corner. “Do you have to scream like that? I’m honestly embarrassed for you. You sound like a feral cat.”
The man tied to the post is in his mid-forties, stocky with greasy hair plastered to his forehead.
He gasps, and it sounds wet. Maybe he’s choking on his own vomit?
Can’t have that happen. I need to torture him for a lot longer before I put him out of his misery. If he dies now, hispunishment will feel weak. I mean, sure, he’ll be dead, but Uncle will demand his pound of flesh.
His right eye is swollen shut, and his lip hangs open. He’s missing a tooth I knocked out forty minutes ago.
“You—you’re insane,” he chokes.
I brighten. “See, that’s a compliment. Much better than the crying. Good job. Gold star.” I pat his cheek with the back of my fingers. The same hand still holding the pair of pliers.
He flinches like I slapped him.
“Relax.” I sigh, twirling the pliers and making a real show of how unhinged I am. “I’m pacing myself. Torture is an art form. Like tasting a fine wine. You don’t just chug it down. You savor it.”
“Please—”
“There it is.” I groan very dramatically. All part of the show. “We’re making progress.” I stand, stretching my arms overhead until my spine cracks. Time to get back to work.
Today’s victim,let’s call him Travis because he looks like a Travis, works for Danforth Steel. Middle management. Probably has a wife who hates him, kids who ignore him, and a drinking problem that gave him courage he absolutely did not deserve.
Unfortunately for him, that courage led him to agree to sell insider info to Rafe, only to back out at the last minute because he “got scared.”
Bad move, fella. I have no patience. And I’m definitely in the wrong fucking mood for this bullshit.
I walk around him. “I’ll be honest, Travis”—I tap the pliers against my palm—“I’m in a terrible mood today. Someone pissedme off.” I bend down so we’re eye level. “And when I’m pissed off, I get . . . creative.”
“I don’t know anything, I swear,” he whimpers.
“There it is again. Everyone swears. If I had a dollar for every man who swore on his life while actively shitting himself, I’d own five more warehouses.” I grab the chair beside him, flip it around, and sit with the backrest pressed against my chest. “Let’s talk about Danforth Steel.”
His chin trembles.
Fear. My favorite emotion.
“They’re planning on finally going through with the Jameson merger, right?”Only took five years. . . I don’t say that bit, but I always wondered why it didn’t happen years ago. College. That’s why. She probably agreed to the marriage after she got her diploma, which she got a few months ago. “Expanding the shipping arm? Moving certain assets off the books?” I tilt my head. “You’re the guy who signs half the internal memos. Don’t play dumb.”
“I-I can’t—”
“Oh my god,” I snap, dropping my head back. “If you say ‘I can’t’ one more time, I will get my scalpel real quick and personally peel your skin off your face.”
He sobs.
“Okay, okay.” I sigh and pat his knee. “Let’s take a step back. Breathe. Try again. How about I help you help me? You can give me the access code to get into their computers and records, right?”
His nostrils flare.Bingo.
“I don’t—”
“Don’t do that.” I lift the pliers. “You do know, Travis. And you know why I know this? Because you’re the guy who hands out the employee badges when they get reprogrammed.”
I tilt my head to the side, grinning like a fool.
“And if you don’t give me what I want, I’m going to find a new use for these. Starting with your fingers. Maybe toes. Maybe something else entirely, depending on how flexible you are.”
“You’re crazy,” he whispers.
