“That’s one,” the cowboy growled low.
Chaz’s eyes flickered wildly.Lie number one. Hewaslying about liking Lazarus. How many lies would the cowboy allow before he took Chaz’s tongue?
“O-Okay,” Chaz backpedaled. “Maybe I don’tlikethe man, but I wouldn’t try to stir up shit for him.” The truth. “I’m not that stupid.” True? Eh, iffy. Chaz wasn’t always the sharpest tool in the shed; he could admit it.
The cowboy leaned closer. “That remains to be seen.” Somethingpoppedbeneath the blade’s tip as he drove it deeper. Was thereanythingthat would prevent him from ultimately butchering Chaz? Why the fuck did he even care about some randomdrive-by shooting?What the fuck did it have to do with him?
Whatever the reason, Chaz’s fuckinglifewas on the line, so he’d better come up withsomethingto placate the fucker. The problem was—he didn’t know what the fuck the cowboywantedfrom him.
This wasn’t Clint’s firstrodeo. He’d been through this shit before, time and again. The bastard tied to the chair would string together whatever bullshit he could, hoping to save his worthless ass—like all the others before him. Butnothingwould save him now.
Clint’s mind drifted briefly to the families suffering the worst fallout from this shitshow. Families who should never have beentouchedby any of it. He thought about Axel and that life-changing moment on the street when the boy was run down right in front of him. Experiencing the horror up close altered a person.
Clint’s gaze returned to the man in the chair. Because of this fuckerright here, Axel would never be the same again—anotherinnocentpiece of him ripped out. And Clint had no intention of letting that gounpunished. No one fucked with Axel and walked away.
Chaz’s mind spun like a hamster wheel. Proving he wasn’t among the smartest humans on the planet, he hadn’t considered what he’d do if things went sideways.
It wouldn’t have gone sideways if not for that goddamn KID.
He’d meant to take out allthreeof the fuckers, but the kid got in the way, fucking up his element of surprise.I hope you died, you little fucker. He deserved it for fucking up their plans. Because the other two bastards lived, they were able to identify Chaz and Helio, which got them in deep shit with Lazarus—and gotHeliokilled. His chest pinched for a split second as he grieved his friend and lover. Then the knife grinding into his neck brought him back, and he knew that if he didn’t think of something to save his ass, he’d bejoiningHelio. Only his “exit” wouldn’t be nearly as quick and painless as Helio’s.
“Play it through for me,” the cowboy said, a brittle tone to his southern brogue. “The shooting. How did it go down? Who were you targeting?”
Chaz swallowed hard. “A… A guy everyone called Soomy. You-You know, like,sue me.‘Cause that’s what he’d always say to people, sarcastic like –‘So sue me.’He double-crossed my partner and me, owed us money he didn’t want to pay.” Chaz swallowed again. “I-I was gonna take out his two friends, too—because they were there on the street with him—but Soomy was the target.”
“Did you take them out?”
Chaz’s teeth started to chatter from the bitter chill in the torture chamber—and the ungodlyterrorsurging through his system. “I-I got Soomy, but not the others.”
“Why?”
“Because…” He shivered hard. “Because some fuckingkidgot in the way and fucked up my shots.”
Something ominous shifted behind the cowboy’s eyes. “Whathappenedto the kid?”
“Thekid?”Chaz blurted with blunt annoyance. “Who fucking cares about that goddamnkid?He fucked everything up.Fuck him,I hope he fuckingdied.”
Clint looked at Cochise, who stood behind the shooter. The Egyptian nodded once. Clint dropped his knife hand into the shooter’s crotch and jabbed the blade into his scrotum.
“Huh!” the man clawed at the armrests, his spine snapping straight and rigid. His neck cords popped as he drew in deep, quick breaths, his bloodshot eyes bulging.
“What did you say?” Clint hissed, pressing the blade’s tip into one of his balls.
The shooter gasped, pressing against the armrests to lift himself away from the blade. He wasn’t going anywhere.
“I-I—”
“Youhopehefucking died?”Clintstabbedone testicle. The shooter screamed, his hips convulsing as blood spilled between his thighs and dripped off the edge of the seat, splattering the cement floor. “Is that what you said?” He pressed the blade tip into his other nut.“Is it?”
The man gagged on the pain, his knuckles bone white as he clutched the chair. The balls of his feet dug into the cold floor;his toes curled so tightly the tendons stood out. Air surged through his throat in ragged, uneven gasps as he tried to speak. “Huh… huh…I-I…huh…I… don’t…huh… huh…”Tears ran down his bruised face, splotched with heat. He seemed to be trying to answer.
Notfastenough.
Clint punctured the other testicle. The shooter let out a shrill scream, and his lower half jerked wildly in the charred seat. Gurgling sounds bubbled in his throat as foamy spit gathered on his lips.
Leaning in, Clint bared his teeth. “Sayit, or I willcut off your fucking cock!”
“I don’t…huh-huh-huh…I-I…huh-huh…yes…huh-huh…I-I said I hope …Huuuh-huhh…he dies.”
