“I’ll get his computer equipment,” Iron says, heading up the stairs, as if he already knew Winger’s next instruction.
“Call Ronny and tell him to move on Ian if he tries to leave the city. The rest of you, get out.” The house clears in a matter of seconds. Winger takes his eyes off Dean long enough to look over his shoulder at me. There’s dried blood on his face that I missed when I wiped off the gore, making him look pretty fucking terrifying. “You too, Max.” He tilts his head toward the door.
I don’t want to leave him, but I don’t want to stay either. “Just kill him so we can go home,” I urge.
“He doesn’t get to die that easily, and he has answers I need.” Winger looks back at Dean. “I’m thinking about taking him to the bullpen and watching him get fucked with mop handles and toilet brushes.”
Dean makes a sound of distress which I’m sure he didn’t mean to let slip. Showing signs of weakness is a big mistake. I learned that lesson by age eleven.
“I’ve seen it done with a broken bottle, but the guy died too quickly with his guts falling out his ass. You’ll pray for death before I’m done with you.” Winger torments him some more in that calm, eerie voice. I have no idea if what he’s saying is true, but it’s horrifying. “Maybe I’ll feed you your balls.” Winger kicks Dean’s leg hard enough that he slides to the side. “A punk bitch like you would like that, right? A weak tiny man like you that has to hurt little girls.”
There’s another kick, and this time, Dean screams and arches when Winger’s boot hits his kidney.
“Who sent someone to kill Max? Was it you?” Winger’s voice is composed, even though his hands are trembling.
Dean doesn’t speak.
“Was it Ian?” Winger tries again, and Dean nods quickly. “See, I don’t think I can believe you, Dylan.” He calls him by the fake name I knew him by. “You seem more like the kind of guy who thinks he’s smart enough to cover his tracks.”
Iron comes downstairs with a laptop and a few other items balanced on top of it. “Found your hard drives, Deano. Sorting through them is going to make me want to bleach my fucking eyeballs, you fucking slimy cocksucker. I hate the cops, but I can’t wait to send this shit to the feds with a list of every motherfucker you shared this garbage with, so they can all get what’s coming to them.”
“Max, outside,” Winger instructs again. This time, I listen. I’m pretty sure Winger is seconds away from unleashing on Dean, and I know he doesn’t want me to see that.
I drag in a fresh breath as soon as I’m on the porch. I hadn’t realized how heavy the scent of blood was until I was away from it. My hands shake when I look down, finding them speckled with blood.
None of the men in the small clearing speak to me as I make my way off the porch, but I feel their eyes on me. There’s a part of me that wants to get right into the car and lock myself away from their stares, but I don’t, not even when the screams start.
CHAPTER32
WINGER
Max takes one look at me when I step out of the house, dripping wet because I hosed myself off in the shower before coming out, and rushes up to wrap her arms around my waist. Water squishes in my boot with every movement. I’d never been bloodier in my life, not even when I helped Rex get rid of his dad’s body and we had no clue what the fuck we were doing at the time.
I can’t force my arms to wrap around her just yet, not after the things I just did, but I can’t push her away either. She tips her head back and looks up at me. “Did you get the answers you needed?”
I nod, incapable of speech.
“Not like this, Winger, never again. They aren’t worth it, promise.” She tightens her hold on me.
I lift my eyes from hers, knowing that’s a promise I can’t give her at the moment. “He got better than he deserved.” If I thought there was a way to get to Ian without getting caught, I would torture him in his own bed, but I’m too selfish.
I won’t risk losing Max or leaving her unprotected while I’m in prison.
“Burn it to the ground,” I order, finally pushing Max away from me. I see the look of hurt in her eyes as I walk away, but I’m not safe to be around right now.
Iron steps in front of me with something in his fingers. I look down and find a dry shirt dangling from his hand. “Keep your head right,” he instructs, forcing me to take the tee. I go through the motions of changing and toss my wet shirt back at the house to let it burn with the rest of this place.
Bishop and a few other guys are already heading in with gas cans to make sure the entire place goes up. I don’t have to tell Max to get in the car, because she disappears behind the tinted glass on her own. I think about asking Iron to drive her back to the loft or even back to the city, since I can’t imagine she would want to be alone with me, but I need to have her close to me right now.
“We’ve got this. Get her out of here,” Iron tells me.
“Make sure everyone’s gone as soon as it goes up,” I warn. Even way out here, someone is bound to see the smoke and call in the fire department at some point.
“We’ve got this,” he tells me again.
I hesitate at the car door, taking a deep breath and trying to clear my head. I don’t want her to see another monster when she looks at me.
The interior of the car is stifling, so I turn on the air as soon as I have the vehicle running. Neither of us mutter a word as I turn around and head back down the road. It’s not until we’re halfway back to the city that she breaks the silence.
