Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“Maybe it’s my thing too, Ma. Besides, this fucker knows exactly where Bonnie is, and I have to find her. I have to.”
It was my fault that she was in this predicament. Obviously, it wasn’t completely my fault, but if I’d acted like a man, like a mature fucking adult and handled things better, she wouldn’t have run off.
She wouldn’t have been desperate.
She would have felt wanted.
She might even had seen the danger that waited for her.
Sadie’s laser sharp gaze didn’t miss a thing, and she nodded her approval. “If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
Jasper’s hand fell on my shoulder. “You don’t have a fucking thing to prove. Seriously.”
Maybe not to him. “I appreciate that, man. Really.” But I needed to do it for myself. For Bonnie. I had to see if I was the man worthy of the woman she would be when she shook the devil off her back. The evil demons that chased her. Was I the man who could protect Bonnie? Steer her in the right direction? Love her like she needed to be loved? “But I have to.”
Jasper nodded and stepped aside while Virgil flipped the lock and pulled the heavy door open.
“We got this,” Virgil assured Ma and Jasper, then he shut the door behind us.
The room was almost pitch black with nothing but a light bulb dangling from a thin chain, casting harsh shadows in every corner. A big metal hook half-covered in rust hung from some part of the ceiling I couldn’t see. Hanging from the hook by a pair of handcuffs was the fucker who’d taken Bonnie.
“Remember,” Terry said. “We need to find your girl first, then we can fuck him up.”
The wild pleasure in his eyes should have disturbed me but when Terry stepped aside and I set eyes on that rotten motherfucker, it felt more like he and I were kindred spirits.
“Got it.”
Joey didn’t look like much, but then again, neither had Squeaker. That was the thing about these guys, about bogeymen. They were never as big, as bad, or as scary as your mind makes you believe. He was young, brown hair and looked like a frat boy. His face was pale except for the nasty purple bruise on his left eye.
“This fucker’s Joey?”
“That’s him,” Terry said with a snort. “In the flesh.”
Slowly, my feet carried me to where he hung, and I looked him right in the eye and did the right thing. “Where’s Bonnie?”
He waited a moment, but I saw his mouth twitch, and I knew he wouldn’t give me what I wanted. “Who’s Bonnie?”
I let one punch go right in his stomach. “Wrong answer.”
He wanted to double over but he couldn’t. “Don’t know any fuckin’ Bonnie,” he wheezed out.
I punched him again. And again. And again. Each time it was the same punch and the same force, into that same spot in his stomach.
“That urge to double over, it’s your body’s way of protecting itself. Next comes nausea and vomiting.”
“Fuck you.”
I pulled my fist back and let another punch rip, this one square in the nose. The sickening crack of the bone brought a smile to my face.
“Nah, you’re not my type.” But Bonnie was my type and she was still out there, in the goddamn desert. “Still not in the mood to talk?”
“Nope.”
I smiled. “Good.” If Joey wanted to do this the hard way, that was how we’d do it. “So, Bonnie? Redhead, used to score drugs from you? Ring a bell?”
“Naw, gingers don’t get my dick hard. Ugh!”
Five, six, seven consecutive punches to the gut and Joey began to seize up.
“That feeling, it’s your diaphragm going into momentary paralysis, making it hard to get air in your lungs.” I punched him twice more just to make my point.
I don’t know how long it went on like that, Joey being a smart ass while I beat the ever-loving fuck out of him.
“You hit like a bitch.”
“Yeah, you think so?”
Joey nodded, blood drooling into his mouth, and I gave him a knee right to the cock. To his credit, the little shit took one hell of a beating, giving up no information on Bonnie, The Crusaders or anyone else.
“Guess I better hit like a man, huh?”
“Okay, okay! Stop!” He could barely get the words out after eight successive hits, alternating between his stomach and his bladder. “Crazy fucker.”
One more punch to the gut just for good measure, and I had to step back while Joey’s body released the contents of his stomach. “Where is Bonnie?”
“Dropped. That. Bitch. Desert.”
I punched him two more times, left jaw, right jaw. “I know that much motherfucker. Where is she?”
“Red Rock,” he spat out around a mouthful of blood.
I punched him again, dead center in his chest and watched in delight as he struggled to get air into his lungs. I was turning into a monster. Thinking about Bonnie and watching the man who kidnapped her in agony made me smile in a way it shouldn’t.