“Okay, I got five and my bike for a weekend on Wy making the fucker crack,” Rowan shouts.
“You can’t do this!” the idiot from the front of the room screams.
“Au contraire mon ami. We can do whatever the fuck we want.” Liam’s tone is arctic as he continues. “Did whomever you work for not tell you how this all works?” he mocks, his deft fingers grabbing the pliers from the table, and I already know what’s about to happen when he prowls to the unseeing man.
I follow his stride with my eyes, watching his approach. He looks like a panther on the prowl. Each time his long legs step soundlessly closer, my smile grows. It’s like watching the Discovery Channel or some shit.
The wail that engulfs the room is like an adrenaline shot to my dick- fuck,
Liam’s pulled a tooth from the man’s mouth. I inhale his screams like it’s a fresh brew after a late night.
“Hey, that doesn’t count either. If he squeals before we start, I say we still play just for bragging rights,” August voices, determined to make this a real competition.
I chuckle at his eagerness. We need to get this show on the road.
“Not the teeth, eager beaver. We need him to talk,” Sebastian jeers.
“What? I left his tongue, didn’t I? You don’t need teeth to talk, and I only took one.” He shrugs.
Liam is a sicker fuck than even I am. People just don’t seem to notice.
“Finish placing bets so we can announce me as the winner already,” August demands.
“Fine. Five grand and keys to Rubi for a day on bloodthirsty Liam over there,” I state.
“Finally, someone with some sense,” he responds. It’s an unusual display of confidence- one I hope he exudes more often.
“I’ve got five large and a tattoo on me that Sebastian’s going to be the one to do it,” August states. “He can’t wear those uptight wedgie-inflicting suits for nothing,” he tacks on- his coppery brows wiggling in jest.
Raucous laughter erupts in the room, causing the man to shriek in surprise.
With bets placed and the order chosen, we line up by the table.
Rowan steps forward, five six-point ninja stars at the ready, “Do you want to make this easy and just answer who ordered the van and where it was going?” he probes, but the man remains silent.
It’s better this way or at least more fulfilling.
Determining he won’t get a response, Rowan pinches a star between the knuckle of his index finger and thumbprint, lining it up with one of the points- great form.
The whirring of gears turning brings my focus away from Rowan momentarily to see the wheel begin to spin.
My smile grows. “Oh, this is going to be much more fun than I originally thought,” I mumble as a shocked cry bursts from the now spinning man’s lips.
“I say the stars should just be a practice round, and then we can question the dumb fuck,” Rowan suggests, and then he whips his through the air.
A shriek sounds. “That’s a motherfucking hit,” Rowan shouts before launching the four remaining stars in rapid succession. Each time a whimper or scream is heard, but no other indication our guest is primed to talk.
We each take our turn, eager to move on to something more lethal and finally get some answers.
After the first round, Sebastian has edged me out by five points.
The ass. He always loved to be the one edging someone.
The wheel stops. Once the dude is upright, he opens his mouth and spews vomit everywhere.
Fucking gross.
“Someone’s made a mess of themselves,” Liam taunts.
This is his wheelhouse. The weapons serve a purpose, but the mind games he’s sowing are precisely why he’s my choice to win.
Blood runs in rivulets down his body, his skin oozing from head to toe in twenty-five varying levels of cuts- some superficial, others more profound. A few stars are protruding from his torso.
Eager to continue, August picks up the throwing knives. “I’m up first this time,” he asserts. He doesn’t wait for consensus. Instead, he throws his blade, and it impales itself into the man’s closed fists.
Screams and curses fly from the man’s mouth, but August doesn’t wait- there will be no reprieve for him. He sails the next one into the man’s muscled thigh.
“Still want to keep your fucked up vow of secrecy, Stephen?” August asks. The anger lacing his question is enough to make me pause. Stephen should probably answer.
“Fuck you,” Stephen chokes out, spittles of snot and blood spraying around him. He’s not surprised we know his name. He’s, at least, not a complete idiot.
Needing no further encouragement, August sends his remaining three knives into Stephen’s various body parts- a shoulder, a foot, and his other thigh.
Watching the blood run from each wound causes a pull in my groin. I grab hard at my dick, adjusting it while I try to give it a ‘now’s not a good time’ pep talk. Normally I’d be all over the high this brings, but without Emma being the one screaming in pain and pleasure while her blood touches my lips, it feels less rewarding. Pain and blood seeping from blades will always make my balls draw tight and my cock rock hard, but now I want to be able to sink that dick in my angel.
Fuck! Now I’m harder.
“Where the fuck did the van go?” August growls.
I must have been too focused on my growing erection that I missed both Rowan and Sebastian’s throws and the escalation of questions.
Annoyed by Stephen’s sniffles and refusal to still answer, I pick up my blades and wheel them through the air, one immediately after the other, like I’m throwing frisbees. One makes slices through the tendon in his forearm into the wood- another in his side, and the other three line his femur.
“Answer the fucking question because the axes are next, and we’re going to spin you again for that round,” I snarl.
“
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.