Page 3 of Tormented
“Got told it was coming up your seven-year anniversary. That true?”
He swallows, head bowed.
“Oh, buddy. You’ve seen your last sunrise. You get that, right?”
“Who fuckin’ sent you?” he grinds out as I use the blade under his chin to bring his face up to mine. “Who told you where to find me?”
I smirk; the corner of my mouth takes its sweet time to inch upward as I relish this moment and prepare for the split second he plays his part in the grand finale. My devil dims the lights and spreads his arms wide, eyes closed as he smiles blissfully.
Holding my captive’s curious gaze, I answer. “Your fuckin’ wife did.”
Asshole’s face drains of blood, his skin fading to a pasty white as he stares at me, unblinking.
Encore!
“Wh-what?” The guy’s brow pinches.
“Uh-huh.” I chuckle for good measure. God, I love fuckin’ with them. “That pregnant wife you were just tellin’ me would be lost without you? She’s the one who raised the bounty on your ass, pal.” He swallows hard. “What’s the matter?” I ask, firming my grip on the knife and lining it up with his side. “That betrayal sting you right in the heart, did it?”
He screams as I drive the blade in under his ribs, puncturing his lung, but missing the vital organ I want to beat for a little while longer yet.
“She’s worried because her man said it would only be one time,” I explain. “And then when she asked you to stop, you started lyin’ to her. She says that guy you threw in the fuckin’ shallow end wasn’t your first.” I draw the blade out, wiping it clean on his jeans. “She’s kept a list of all the people you’ve topped in your delusional crusade to be the next overnight millionaire in the area.” I laugh, circling him while I decide where to strike next. “Only problem with that dream, asshole?” I lean in close for effect. “You gotta steal a lot of girls to make that much money at the bottom end of the hierarchy.”
“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath, coughing a little given oxygen doesn’t come as easy anymore.
“I’ll let you in on a secret,” I say, poking a finger in his wound and making him groan through gritted teeth. “You’re kind of special, you know that?”
“How?” he cries, clearly skeptical.
“I retired. Hung up my blades, unloaded my clip, and swore I’d be a better man. Think of it a sociopath’s rehab.”
“You’re fuckin’ mad!”
“Among other things.” No secret there. “But it gets boring being . . . nice.”
He eyes me as I drag the other porch chair over and take a seat beside him.
“Your wife.”
“What about her?”
“You seem okay with the fact she’s sent a hit out on you.”
“Women, man.” He shrugs, and promptly winces in pain.
I kick back with a sigh, letting my knife rest on my thigh. He eyes it like a fat kid with his first good look at candy after health camp.
“You got anything you’d like to tell her?” I pull my phone out and scroll through to the note-taking app.
“I think she knows it all.”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it? You trust the ones you love, think your secrets are safe with them, and then whammo!” I launch forward and clap in his face. Guy damn near shits himself. “The people you thought would be with you until the end use it all against you.”
“Bitch doesn’t know what’s good for her.”
“Yeah?” I scoff. “How’s that?”
“She gave up her fuckin’ meal ticket, didn’t she? Who does she think pays all the bills, puts food on the table?” He pauses to catch his breath, shaking his head. “Dumb fuckin’ cunt.”