Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
I drive myself to the address Ezra sent, and when I pull up to the door, I see Ezra’s car and one other. Neither looks like they belong here. Someone peers out of their motel room as I park my Audi and hurry to knock on the door. I didn’t want to bring the Rolls in case anyone recognized it.
“Judge,” Ezra says, opening it right away and stepping aside to let me take in the scene.
“Jesus.” The room has been destroyed. Every glass surface shattered. Every piece of furniture splintered. The bed leans on broken legs. And on the disgusting blanket lying in a stain I’m sure is his own blood is my brother. My barely conscious brother who is almost unrecognizable. His face has been beaten so badly that both eyes are slits, the skin around them black and blue. His lip is cut, and blood has dried on his chin. His neck. His shirt has been ripped open, and what looks like cigarette burns mark almost the entirety of his chest. His feet are bare, and I’m pretty sure that dark spot on his jeans is dried piss.
The doctor who is cleaning a wound gives some instruction to his assistant. She nods and gets what he needs out of the medical bag. Theron already has an IV in his arm.
On the broken nightstand and lying on the floor are traces of white powder and a used needle.
“Is that…?” I start, but Ezra answers before I can finish.
“Cocaine.”
It’s what I suspected the night I found him in the punishment room. He was high.
“We’ve managed to stabilize him,” Ezra says. “He’s lucky we got here when we did.”
“What the fuck happened?” I snap.
Theron groans at the sound of my voice. He turns his head, and I see how much it costs him.
“He was overdosing. The hotel manager called the local police. Luckily, I know the woman manning the desk there. She recognized his description. I sent my own doctor over. He was able to reverse the overdose.”
“He’ll be okay?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” I say, more relieved than I expect to feel.
“And I’ve already paid the manager. It’ll all be kept quiet.”
I nod, but that’s not what I’m thinking about now. I step closer to the bed. “Who beat him?” Because I didn’t do this.
The nurse working with the doctor cuts away his jeans. Theron hisses through his teeth. I see why. Because as the denim is pulled away from his thighs, the sliced, shredded skin comes into view. Whoever did this wanted to deliver maximum pain.
Ezra shakes his head as I take in the damage. “A dark SUV was seen speeding off the grounds. The manager had received a complaint from one of the nearby rooms about noise.”
“Jesus, Theron.”
I don’t expect him to answer, but he gurgles something I can’t quite make out.
“He’s pretty out of it,” Ezra says.
“We can move him as soon as I get these dressed,” says the doctor.
Ezra nods, then turns to me. “I’m guessing you don’t want to take him to a Society hospital.”
“Correct.”
“You can house him at your clinic?” he asks the doctor.
The doctor looks at me, and I know what he’s seeing. A big fat payday. “I’ll have to clear out my patients.”
“That’s fine. Do what you need to do,” I tell him. “The SUV?” I ask Ezra.
“I’ve got a partial plate, but it won’t be easy to track.”
“Did he do this himself?” I ask, gesturing to the band around his arm and the needle on the floor.
“I don’t think so. He was tied down when we got here,” Ezra says. “And he doesn’t have tracks. A regular user would have tracks. My guess is the coke was his, but whatever was in that needle wasn’t.”
I look at his arms, at the strips of bloody clothing. They used his shirt to tie him down. “Probably owed someone money.”
“That would be my guess, considering what I have learned recently. My car is in the lot. Let’s continue our conversation outside,” Ezra says, glancing at the doctor. We step out, closing the door partially behind us. “I was going to courier these files to you, but then this call came in, so I brought them with me.”
“What did you find?”
“I tracked down at least where some of the money went when he was in Europe. And finding him like this… The beating was inflicted to deliver pain but he’d have died of an overdose if the manager hadn’t called it in. The intent was murder. I’m not even sure whoever was responsible cared about it looking like it, considering.”
“Fuck.” I follow Ezra to his car. He unlocks it remotely, then opens the trunk, where I see a small safe. He’s nothing if not thorough.
“That bad?”
“It’s not good.” He unlocks the safe and hands me a sealed folder. “There’s not much else you can do here. Go home and read what I sent you. We’ll need to get ahead of it. If this was who I think it was, they tracked him from Europe to New Orleans and were pissed off enough to send soldiers. If they find out he survived, they’ll come back to finish the job.”