“Fuck you,” he seethes before snapping his quivering lips shut.
I press my gun into the soft part of his shoulder and squeeze the trigger.His howl echoes through the room, followed by a trickling of liquid.The scent of urine wafts up from his body and I step around the puddle that’s formed beneath his chair.
“Have you been to Bianca’s compound?”
“N-no!No!”he sobs.“I-I’ve never been there.”
I tap my gun against his forehead.“Last chance.Have you ever been to Bianca’s compound?”
“I swear,” he screams, “I haven’t!I haven’t!”Tears stream down his face, dripping onto his bloodied shirt.
“You’re of no use to me then.”I pull the trigger, sending chunks of his skull and brain matter splattering against the wall and the face of the guy next to him.
Sweatshirt sobs as I approach him, his face streaked with blood and tears.
“Please, please, please,” he whispers.
“Have you ever been to Bianca’s compound?”I ask, tapping my gun against his kneecap.
A glob of spit trickles from his mouth as he sucks in a breath.“I-I don’t know.I don’t know.”
He screams as the bullet shatters his knee, spraying the chair and floor with blood and bone.
I shove my gun into his stomach.“Have you ever been to Bianca’s compound?”
“I th-think I d-dropped someone off there one time.I don’t…” He retches, turning his head to vomit on the concrete.“I don’t kn-know the address.”
“Explain to me where it is,” I demand, digging the hard metal into his gut.
His breath whistles a choppy tune through his gritted teeth and sucks the snot back from his nose.“I-it’s outside the city.N-north.It’s north.B-big white house.Lot of land.I-think it’s on…umm…”
My hand creeps lower, the gun moving from his gut to his one good knee.
“Fitz!”he yells.“Fitzgerald Road!”
“Good,” I breathe.“That’s very good.”
I lift my arm and fire, putting a bullet between his eyes.
