I tug on the rope, and it’s taut. Not even the slightest bit of give as Brent bucks against his restraints again.
I should have been a Boy Scout. I’m good with knots.
“Please. I’ll do anything. Just… please. Let me go.” The desperation in his voice rises as I stand to face him. He’s so scared, I’m surprised he hasn’t shit himself.
“No.”
Striding to the other side of the bed, he tries in vain to kick me with his free leg, but I quickly tie it up in the same fashion.
It’s a pretty nasty sight. With his legs hoisted up, he looks like a raw turkey on Thanksgiving morning, but with a hairier asshole and a sad excuse for a cock.
“What… what’re you…” Brent stammers.
I produce a leather ball gag from my bag. I’m surprised how easily he obeys when I tell him to open his mouth.
His limbs test their restraints, but he doesn’t protest as I shove the leather between his teeth, not bothering to buckle it behind his head.
“Can’t have you waking up the whole neighborhood.” Not that he could, but it’s a nice effect. And I won’t have to hear the fucker talk unless I want him to speak. “Now, do you want to know why I’m here?”
Brent’s head bounces in an eager nod. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but it’s not getting him out of this.
“I’m calling in a favor from the woman you raped.”
His eyes widen again as he shakes his head no.
“Do you know who I’m referring to?”
Brent pauses, then shakes his head no again.
And I believe him. He has no fucking clue. Is it because Daphne wasn’t the only one? Or because he genuinely doesn’t consider what he did rape?
“I’m going to remove the gag. Then I’m going to ask you one more time.” Gripping one of the straps, I yank the gag out of Brent’s mouth, and he gasps for more air.
“Do you know the woman I’m referring to?”
“I never raped anyone. You’ve got the wrong guy.”
I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see my face. “Of course, that’s what a nice guy like you would say.”
He protests this time, whipping his head back and forth, but I manage to force the gag back in place and press it hard against his teeth. There’s a crack, and I’m pretty sure it was a tooth.
“I’m here on behalf of Daphne Fox. The First Daughter sends her regards.”
Brent’s eyes narrow and he bucks against his restraints in anger.
“Now, Daphne gave me free rein to do whatever I want with you, so long as I get the job done.” Anger rises from my gut like bile, scorching my throat as the words come out. “I’m here to get answers.” I lean down lower, my gaze meeting Brent’s.
His green eyes water over, narrowing as they try to silently challenge me to let him go. Like hell will I let this bastard free. Tonight’s the last night Brent’s going to fucking breathe.
“I’m going to remove your gag,” I start. “And you’re going to tell me exactly what you did to Daphne the night you drugged her.”
I tug the knife—our knife—from my back pocket—the blade glints in the light from the open bathroom door. “If I don’t like your answer, I’ll start cutting skin, then slice it off like lunch meat. And if that doesn’t make you talk, I’ve got bolt cutters in my bag for your fingers and toes. And I have a taser. You’ll bleed out on your lies if I have to. But you’re going to tell me exactly what you did to my girlfriend.”
I place the tip of the blade against his chest and pull off the gag again. Brent screams bloody murder, and I cram the gag back in immediately. Fuck his perfect Colgate teeth.
“Now, Brent. We don’t want to wake the neighbors, do we?” I ask.
I dig the tip into his skin and drag it an inch along his pectoral. Blood seeps out, and I glance up to watch his expression as my stomach churns.God, I hate blood. Why couldn’t Brent have been allergic to peanuts?
