I walked inside behind the belly-aching bitch before Dutch closed the door behind all of us. Darkness encompassed us, and I swear to God I’d never heard a man sob the way that man did.
“Take the long way around,” I said as I split off from them. “I want him good and ready for when it’s my turn.”
“Please. No, no, no—nooooo! Stop it, please!”
Hearing that man’s screams echoing off the metal walls of the warehouse brought a smile to my face. I walked exactly twenty-two paces before shoving my shoulder into the wall to my right, and as the door slammed open a singular light got triggered.
Shining a harsh spotlight down onto the meat hook hanging from the ceiling.
The sound of punches intoxicated me as the man stopped screaming and started gurgling on his own blood. Trooper, no doubt. That man loved a good boxing ring. The sound of crunching bones and cracking knuckles backdropped my stretching as I reached my hands toward the sky. My back popped into place. My fingertips tickled the meat hook before I jumped up, grabbing it with both of my hands.
I swung my hips around, releasing the tension I’d been carrying around since snatching up Naomi in the first place.
And as the door on the other side of the room slammed open, I watched Dutch drag the mumbling man toward me.
“Broken jaw,” I said as Troop stood in the open doorway. “Nice.”
He shook out his hands. “Think I broke a rib or two as well.”
I backed away from the meat hook. “You want to do the honors, Dutch? Or, should I?”
That statuesque man, with his long arms and his tight grip, hoisted our bleeding wannabe rapist up there without even breaking a sweat.
“I’ll take the honor this time,” he said as he gazed up at his latest prey.
I held my hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, suit yourself. I’m just glad I get to strangle the guy.”
“Please,” the man choked out, “you’ve got the wro—aaaaAAAH! HOLY FUCK!”
Dutch threaded that meat hook through the space between each of his collarbones, linking him permanently to the swinging structure. The man couldn’t even get his arms over his head to grab onto the rope above him, and when he tried the sound of snapping twigs for bones made me come alive. Dutch moved like lightening, scooting a chair just beneath the man’s foot so he could tiptoe around for his life.
And as Troop finally made his way into the room, he got one more sucker punch to his lower back.
“That’s for Naomi,” he glowered. “You know, the girl you tried to rape at the bar today.”
“What?” the man sputtered. “I-I-I—I didn’t do—I’m not--.”
“So, you don’t know who this is?” Dutch asked.
I watched him shove his phone into the man’s face, no doubt with a picture of Naomi on it. And when recognition sprouted behind his eyes, it only confirmed what we already knew.
“That’s what I thought,” Dutch said as he tossed his phone to the ground.
While Trooper enjoyed a brutish touch, Dutch enjoyed his finesse. Maximum pain for minimal work, like watching the man dance ballet on his tiptoes so that his collarbones wouldn’t rip clear from his body.
“You know,” Dutch said as he circled his prey, “they say that the artery running along the inside of one’s thigh, when nicked, can force someone to bleed out in a matter of seconds.
He brandished a knife that seemed to sing as he held it to the inside of the man’s leg.
“But, that almost seems too merciful for someone like you,” Dutch said.
I folded my arms over my chest and watched the show as Dutch filleted the man out of his khakis. His boxers. His shirt. He took his time undressing our appetizer, and the bruises Troop had left behind shimmered in the spotlight. Sweat dripped down the man’s brow, carrying with it every last drop of life he clung to.
Then, I watched as Dutch grabbed the man’s balls and pulled them out as far as they could go.
“No, no, no, no. Please. Oh, Jesus Christ. I did it, okay? Do you want me to admit it? I did it, and I’m so sorry. I’ll never do it again. I swear to fuck on high, I never will.”
Dutch paused, the blade of his knife right against the man’s wrinkly sack of skin. “Promise?”
