Page 32 of Ricochet

I reached into my pocket, pulling out a wad of cash. When he flicked his hand, I caught sight of a tattoo that, with his hand curled in a fist, read ‘fist fuck’, and a memory drifted through my head, his voice echoing through the fog.

“Your husband ever fist you, baby?” The little prick licks his fist then shudders a breath. “Oh it ain’t love if you haven’t taken a fist in the ass.”

I shook my head, choking back the fury, but I could sense the blackness settling over me, that dark, erratic monster wanting to take control and kill every one of them.

A tortured scream, followed by cries, broke my thoughts, and my head snapped up to the closed door.

Sapphire.

Before he could reach for his own, I pulled my Glock from inside my coat and propped it under his chin, aimed toward the top of his skull. Had I sneezed, the fucker’s brains would’ve hit the ceiling. I slipped his own gun from the front of his pants, and, as the bitch on the couch slowly rose in my periphery, I used it to blow her feet out from under her. She screamed and fell to the floor, cradling her mutilated ankles.

I’d deal with her soon.

Thumps against the wall and the floor from the other rooms told me the gunshots had roused some alarm.

“How many of you fucks are here?”

Before Jonathan could answer, another male, Julius exited from the bathroom. I shot him in the thigh, screams of agony filling the hallway, as he collapsed to the floor. The objective was to wound them so I could draw out each death in the same agonizing measure that they’d brought to countless victims. Easier said than done, when all I could taste was the copper tang at the back of my throat and the voice inside my head telling me to fill every one of them with lead.

I moved one of the guns to Jonathan’s nutsack. “How many?”

“Two. In the bedroom.”

Two? Jesus fucking Christ.

The sound of a screaming child had me tapping the trigger of my gun, while rage taunted me to open fire.

Kill them slow, the voice chimed. Painfully slow.

I nudged him toward the door, using him as a human shield and kicked it open.

The sight that met my eyes damn near made me drop to my knees.

Black ink spread inside my narrowing field of vision and the voice chimed again.

Kill them all.

***

I opened my eyes to Julius Malone screaming. His tipped back head had been strapped to a chair, and my palm squeezed his neck. A downward glance showed a bloody strip of flesh dangling from the gut hook of my knife.

The metallic scent of blood mixed with piss hit the back of my throat, and I lifted my gaze, catching sight of the macabre that filled the room. A gruesome display of dead bodies sat propped and posed like horrific sculptures. My attention landed on Jonathan, though, zeroing in on the glistening flesh where his other ear had been sliced away.

Had I done that? I didn’t know. Had no idea how much time had passed.

Blacked out again.

Echoes of laughter rang inside my head as voices from the past and the memory of that night resurfaced.

Jonathan holds my son, who screams and kicks trying to get away from him. I spot a fallen knife on the floor in front of me. As I slice off Jonathan’s ear, he drops Jay to the floor, and I revel in the sound of the bastard’s screams –until the shot of gunfire steels my muscles.

I released Julius’s throat, stuffed his mouth with a nearby rag, and walked out of the room, leaving him to sob. In the living room I’d first arrived through, all three young girls sat huddled and shivering in a corner by the cages. Probably scared shitless of me. Aside from the fact that they didn’t have clothes, why hadn’t they run? Why did they stay? I’d set up the perfect opportunity for escape, and yet, there they sat, trembling in the corner, perhaps waiting to see who won the fight and who would be their new slaver. Had I commanded them to stay there?

I searched the motel room and found a duffel bag filled with women’s clothes—bras, panties, jeans, a couple of T-shirts. In another bag were men’s clothes and I nabbed three of the sweatshirts packed inside.

Approaching carefully, I watched the young girls hide their faces in each other, and, keeping my distance, I crouched in front of them with the clothes I’d gathered for them held out, and cleared my throat. “I’m not going to hurt you.” I nudged my head toward the bedroom door. “They’re not going to hurt you, either. Ever.”

A wave of sobbing filled the air, and the one called Sapphire finally pulled her face from the others.