Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
The chill that runs down my spine is unstoppable, just like the gasp that escapes at the easy way he asks such a devastating question.
“I don’t give a fuck, just get me some fucking answers!”
I stare at both men as I try to ignore the loud pounding in my head, the panic that’s starting to rise as Tiny checks out his torture tools. “Th-there’s no need for any of…that.” I nod at Tiny and his kit.
“It is because you won’t tell me the goddamn truth!”
My shoulders sag. How can I get out of this if this man is determined not to believe me?
“I am telling you the truth, but you don’t want to hear it. Who are you anyway?”
“Nonya business who I am. I need you to tell me everything you know and do it now.”
“I don’t know anything.”
Tiny, the fat son of a bitch, grips my middle finger with a set of pliers and rips my fingernail from the root.
“Ow! Stop! Son of a motherfucking bitch!” Blood pours from my finger. “Holy mother of fuck, that shit hurts!” I clench my jaws tight against the pain and the urge to cry as tears burn my eyes.
“One more time,” he sighs. “Tell me everything you know about the Reckless Souls.”
“I already did,” I say with a whimper. I let out another anguished cry because I can’t focus on anything but how much it hurts.
Tiny grabs another finger and lines up the pliers with my pinky nail, prepared to yank it out.
“Okay. Okay, wait. Please.” I plead for my life, but I look up at Tiny and then Ghost with tears in my eyes. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” Ghost says with a menacing smile.
“I’m a truck driver,” I say. “I make deliveries for whoever pays me. Morgan International asked if I could do a delivery for them. That’s it.” Not that it matters now, of course.
“You’re fuckin’ one of ‘em.”
I nod because agreeing is the best thing to say to a man willing to yank out my fingernails just for shits and giggles. “It was a one-night stand. Nothing more, nothing less.”
He lets out an exhausted sigh. “Tiny, hammer. Now.”
“Hammer? That isn’t necessary. Leave the hammer where it is and tell me what you want me to say.”
“The fucking truth!” He yanks at his hair, pacing in front of me as if I’m the one ruining his plans.
Tiny grips my wrist with one meaty hand, gripping a hammer in the other, raising it high in the air.
“Stop! I don’t know anything,” I shout, but it’s too late. The hammer comes crashing down in the middle of my left hand with a sickening crack. “Fuck!” Tears stream down my cheeks, and pain radiates all the way up my arm so bad I may pass out.
Ghost sneers at me. “Ready to talk now?”
I can’t take it. The pain is too bad. “Just kill me,” I plead. I don’t know anything about what he’s asking. And he’s not going to listen. I hurt so bad I can’t even think straight.
How did I get here? Who are these people?
His arm jerks again in a stinging backhand. “Wake up! I’m not finished with you.”
My head snaps back, and I think my nose is bleeding, but I can’t do this anymore. “I’m awake,” I say as blood seeps from my nose into my mouth.
“Impressive,” Ghost offers with an awful attempt at a smile and pulls out a revolver with a pearl white handle. “Did they ever say anything about Los Tres Colombianos?”
Fuck. Who?
My eyes are wide as he empties all the bullets into his hand, dropping them to the floor in front of me, one by one. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say and swallow down the pain, “maybe I just don’t have the answers you want because I’m not who you think I am?”
“That’s possible,” he offers and squats down to pick up just one bullet. “But I need to be sure.” Ghost stands to his full height once again, clutching the bullet between his thumb and forefinger. “So, what are those fuckers planning?”
“I don’t know.” The fear and adrenaline start to take hold, and my mind gets fuzzy. Blood pumps through my head, and it’s the only thing I can hear.
He grins, stepping in front of me and grabbing my chin between his thumb and forefinger. Ghost presses the gun to my temple. “Have you heard them talk about a man named Arturo Rojas?”
“No.” I close my eyes tight and wait for him to squeeze the trigger and for my brain to go flying across the room.
“Wrong answer. Again.” His grip changes on the gun, and a loud clicking noise sounds to my left.
My heart skips, and I let out a shaky gasp as more tears fall. “Fuck.”
“That’s one. Try again.”