“Winner winner, chicken dinner. Good afternoon Clive, I’m Hawk.” Jasper strode over to him. “How are you today?”
“Fuck you,” was Clive’s response.
Jasper made a buzzing sound then swung his fist hard and fast. It caught Clive right in the jaw. He snapped his head too hard and hit the wall behind him, leaving the first stain of blood.
“I’m sorry,” Jasper said easily, barely even winded. “You chose the wrong answer. Would you like to try that again?”
“Sometimes,” Mickey said in a low voice, his lips barely moving. “I forget just how much he enjoys this part.”
Clive spat blood out as he glared at Jasper. He was on his knees, having collapsed there after the first blow. He fought to get up as Jasper waited, humming the song from Jeopardy.
Yeah, Mickey was right. I’d forgotten just how much fun Jasper could have with these interrogations.
“Go to hell,” Clive said and Jasper made the buzzing sound again.
This time he slammed his fist so hard into the man’s gut that he actually gagged and coughed up bile that Jasper dodged neatly.
“That’s two strikes,” Jasper informed him conversationally. “Would you like to try one more time? If not, I’m sure you can phone a friend or pass to the next player?”
“Go…” Clive gagged. “Fuck yourself.”
Another buzzer sound and Jasper turned away from Clive to look at me. “I swear, manners have really gone downhill.”
“They have,” I agreed, picking up his bat and tossing it to him. “Once upon a time, a little please and thank you went a long way.”
“Still does,” Jasper said. “Unfortunately, three strikes and you're out.” He pivoted smoothly, swinging the bat. It crashed into Clive’s right knee with a sickening crunch. His howl cut off as he gagged again. It was hard to shriek and fight to breathe at the same time.
Definitely sounded like a him problem.
The other two stared at us with varying degrees of disbelief and concern. Probably wise on their part to be very concerned. Jasper glanced down at Clive who wasn’t quite crying, but he was close.
Kind of depressing how fast he would fold.
Still, the faster we got the info, the faster we could act on it. Probably better to approach this at speed.
Didn’t mean I didn’t want it to hurt just a bit more.
“Right,” Jasper gave a kind of nod, then glanced down at Clive before he looked at the other two. “Which of you guys is going next?”
There was a jagged moment of silence before both men began to sputter.
Chapter
Twenty-One
LAINEY
Our car led the small parade of vehicles out toward Brooklyn. All black SUVs. All with increased security, and steel-reinforced doors with ballistic-resistant windows. We were making a statement. A show of unity.
The Vandals were all here. While they couldn’t necessarily afford to be absent in total from Braxton Harbor for long, none would let Em or Pretty Boy deal with King alone.
Milo threaded his fingers with mine where he sat next to me. Adam was silent on my right. Ezra had grabbed the front seat and Bodhi drove. It amused me that Adam hadn’t even offered up a token resistance to the seating arrangements.
No, we were all growing more comfortable with the rotation of where we sat, though Bodhi almost always drove. A smile flickered through me at the thought.
Control issues. We all had them. Some of us handled it better than others. I didn’t think it was possible to love these four more, then they just climbed in the car as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Maybe it was.
Our new normal.
Bodhi drove and lately, we’d used his cars more than any others. That would adapt over time as we were able to loosen security. The penthouse, though, as lovely as it was, was Bodhi’s space and none of us wanted to disrupt it anymore than we already had. I also liked my own and Adam seemed fond of his.
We might need to discuss a pooling of resources or maybe buying a building and redoing the upper floors. That idea had potential. I put a mental bookmark in place for later.
Despite the quiet, plans hummed in the air around us. Em had gotten confirmation of her shows and received two calls from the man who owned the theater in Prague. He was thrilled to hear she would be coming.
Maybe too excited, if Pretty Boy’s reaction to the second call had been an indication. The buzz of violence, always present, had grown more audible for a time. But when I locked gazes with him, concerned, Milo had shaken his head.
No, he didn’t like the other man’s attitude. He didn’t care for what seemed to have once been the “normal” in Em’s life. The important part, however, was it was no longer the “normal” and Em would not be dealing with any of these people alone.
The Vandals would have her back. So would we. Maybe… just maybe, we would be coming back with Andrea. That part of the nightmare could end while we focused on her recovery.
If I didn’t think too hard on what could be happening to her right now, it let me breathe. The moment I let my thoughts drift in that direction, the muscles in my back began to tighten and my stomach sank.
We couldn’t kill Harper twice, but if I could—I would execute him daily until we had Andrea back with us. There were a number of different ways to kill him. We hadn’t really been that creative.
