Page 90 of Trick or Treat

Trick pulled the trigger against his leg.Click.

Kurtis jerked in his seat. “What the fuck, man? I answered your question!”

“I don’t like you,” was the only answer Trick gave him.

“Who do you work for?” Preacher asked. Trick could see the reputation he’d earned had been justified. He appeared cold and calculated, determined to get what he wanted by any means possible. Seriously, if the man could ash someone with his eyes alone, they would make a superhero movie about him.

Trick pushed the gun barrel a little harder into Kurtis’s leg when he didn’t immediately respond. “Answer.”

“The man’s name is Jacob. Jacob Jacobson.”

“Where’s he from?”

“All over. He has homes all over the world. He’s never at the same place for long. He doesn’t tell us where he is. We do most of our contact through text or phone calls.”

Trick pulled the trigger twice.Click. Click. “Seriously, what is wrong with this fucking gun?”

“Quit spinning the cylinder after every pull,” Race suggested.

“What the fuck?! I answered the question! Why do you keep doing that?!” Kurtis jerked around violently in his seat, almost knocking the chair to the floor.

“I really don’t fucking like you.” Trick shrugged a shoulder. He was met with a scowling Preacher when he turned his focus back.

“I want you to tell me the location of every house this Jacob Jacobson owns.” Preacher turned to Race. “Someone recording this?”

Jed pulled out his phone and started recording.

Kurtis rattled off ten different places Jacob owned in six different countries. “I’m sure he has more, but I honest to God don’t know where. Oh, wait, when we spoke on the phone earlier, he said he was headed to France.”

“Why France?” Preacher moved closer.

“He said something about his suppliers over there having problems with local gangs. Our guys are moving in on their territory or something.”

The muscle in Preacher’s jaw ticked. “I’m going to ask you one more question and I want complete honesty. You’re life depends on it.” Preacher pulled a knife from his boot and absently twirled in his fingers. “Did you ever fuck any of the women you kidnapped? Keep in mind, your answer will determine whether or not you walk out of here with one eye or two.”

Kurtis started to shake and Trick knew it wasn’t from the cold any longer. Things for him had just gotten real.

“Yes,” Kurtis admitted on a whisper.

“What was that? Louder,” Preacher pushed.

“Y-y-yesss. I fucked some of the women before they went to the buyers.” He all but cried now. The tears streaming down his face infuriated Trick. Hearing that he’d fucked those poor women was like setting a match to kerosene. He raised the gun and pulled the trigger four times before it finally went off.

“Owww! Oh God! You shot me! You shot me!” Kurtis rocked back and forth, his chair wobbling precariously.

“Shut the fuck up, you pussy! You got off easy. What I really want to do is shove this gun up your ass and unload it.” Trick ran his hand through his hair. This fucker was going to rape Lindsey. There was no doubt in his mind. If Lindsey didn’t give it up willingly, Kurtis would have taken it from her.

“What did you mean if he was sent to Mexico it wouldn’t be a vacation?” Trick got in Preacher’s face and demanded. “Because right now, I want to take him out back, tie him to a tree and let the hogs have him.”

“My friend owns a brothel. Kurtis would be her newest whore. If he tries to run away, she’ll cut a foot off. All of her men working for her have led lives abusing others and as penance, they are sentenced to a life that they were condemning others to. Kurtis would be a sex slave. Just reward, don’t you think?”

“No! No! Nooooo! Don’t send me to Mexico!” Kurtis begged.

“Shut the fuck up!” Trick punched him in the jaw, putting an end to the man’s wailing. “Getting a taste of what you put all those women through sounds like a just punishment.”

Jed slapped a piece of duct tape across Kurtis’s mouth to shut him up.

“How do we go about getting him there?” Race asked.

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