I’ll get over there after we take care of this handsy piece of garbage.
“I’ll keep a look out for him,” I tell Carson, and he knows that I mean Damien. “I’ve put feelers out and set up trigger words to ping me whenever anyone searches for them on the dark web. Nothing will happen where he’s concerned without us hearing about it.”
“I appreciate it,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder. “Now, let’s go see to this fucker.”
The eight of us—our number twos are silent but never leave our side—walk out of the elevator and down a cement hallway to where Carson has four cells. Three are used for holding, and one is for torture.
I’ll give you one guess which room we walk into.
“Oh, this is fun,” Spider, Carson’s number two, says as he rubs his hands together. “I hate this guy.”
“You can’t kill me,” Pierce announces as we stroll inside. He’s sweaty, his red hair plastered to his forehead. He’s wearing black slacks and an orange golf shirt, which makes him look like a pumpkin. Or an idiot.
“Is it casual Saturday?” I ask the others, eyeing the mayor’s stupid outfit.
“Seems so,” Mateo says with a shrug. “Or, lame-ass outfit Saturday. I would have played along, but I don’t shop at Walmart.”
“Fuck you,” Pierce snarls, and Mateo smirks. “I’m going home.”
The man is chained to the floor, sitting in a metal chair.
He’s not going anywhere.
“No, you’re not,” Rome says, shaking his head. “It seems you just can’t keep your disgusting fucking hands off of women who don’t want you to touch them.”
“Lies.”
“Not to mention all of the money you owe me,” Carson growls. “You see, that pisses me off. You come into my establishment, myhouse, and not only do you take advantage of me by racking up the kind of debt that an idiot like you can’t pay off, but then you go and harass my employees on top of it.”
“I didn’t harass anyone. She fucking wanted it.”
“That’s why she kneed him in the balls and called her manager,” Spider says to Rome. “Because she wanted this limp-dicked asshole to fuck with her. Makes sense.”
“You’re a problem,” Carson continues as he walks over to his workbench.
Carson doesn’t keep as many tools around as the rest of us because the scary-as-fuck assassin prefers to kill men with his bare hands.
But today, he grabs a sledgehammer off the bench and casually strolls toward Pierce.
“I have the money to square the debt,” Pierce says, eyeing the hammer. He keeps his voice even, but the man is scared out of his mind right now.
And he should be.
I cross my arms over my chest and grin.This is going to be fun to watch.
“Sure you do,” Carson says with a nod, then pulls back and swings, taking out Pierce’s knee, splitting his pants and the skin, and making him bleed all over the fucking place.
“Fuck, that’s gotta hurt,” Luke says to Spider, who nods in agreement.
Pierce howls in pain, writhing against the chains holding him down.
“You keep touching things that don’t fucking belong to you,” Carson says in Pierce’s face, and then his hand jabs out so fast, I would have missed it if I’d blinked, and he rips the other man’s throat out.
Pierce’s eyes go wide, and he gurgles for about three seconds before the life leaves them, and he slumps over dead.
“Graveyard,” Carson growls at Spider, who nods and pulls his phone out of his pocket to take care of the body.
“That was fast,” Mateo says. “You could have used the sledgehammer a little more.”
