Page 83 of Blue

Mittens had been far kinder than this piece of shit deserved. So, Mooky reached down and pulled the excess tail so the circles clamped down tighter. They bit into Holt’s skin to the point the flesh turned white and Mooky couldn’t pull anymore.

A grunt followed by a hiss came from the man.

“You’re fucked,” Holt said through a cough.

Mooky snorted, taking a rather long thin drill bit from the collection. “I think you have that backward.”

Looking over his right shoulder, Holt used his good eye to track Mooky.

With a smirk, Mooky jabbed the drill bit up into the crook of the officer’s elbow, making the man howl and struggle in the chair.

“How many times did you stick her?” he asked as he twisted the corkscrew deeper. Blood flowed over his fingers. “Do you think I have enough bits?”

“Fuck you!” came out through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I hope you didn’t do that.” Mooky tsk’ed and shook his head.

Despite the fury radiating through him, he kept a calm demeanor. That was how he worked. He had to be methodical in order to make sure Holt suffered more than Blue had. If he let himself get too emotional, he’d go too fast and end Holt too soon.

No.

Holt didn’t deserve any mercy—not even a quick death.

“Just your wife. Nailed her fucking day and night,” Holt spat. “Gave her what you couldn’t. She couldn’t get enough.”

Chuckling, probably maniacally, Mooky selected one of the ball peen hammers. He rounded the chair and cocked his head as he looked over at the pathetic man before him. Sweat dripped down Holt’s swollen face.

Whatever Mittens had done to get him there had really roughed him up. When Holt narrowed his eyes, only one actually squinted.

“Had both your wife and your kids calling me Daddy.”

The laughter stopped. A renewed chill ran through Mooky’s veins as his ire neared the tipping point. He let his arm drop but held the handle of the hammer tighter.

With a creepy smile, Holt nodded as though he had done something.

Oh, he had all right.

Swinging his arm like a pendulum, Mooky pulled the tool back before it rose. The ball end of the hammer lifted until it collided with Holt’s chin.

CRACK.

Blood splattered forward, hitting Mooky in the face.

In slow motion, with follow-through, Mooky delighted watching the chair tip until the cop landed on his back. Because his legs were not secured to the chair, they splayed around it.

Mooky took the opportunity to lift his boot and slammed it down on Holt’s crotch. “Don’t you ever fucking say shit about my kids again.”

With a wheeze, Holt groaned as Mooky squished his boot back and forth. Satisfied he had mashed his nuts thoroughly, Mooky let up.

Holt attempted to roll on his side as he coughed out pieces of teeth. If his jaw hadn’t cracked in half from the hammer, Mooky would sure as hell be surprised.

“Try talking shit now,” he sneered at the man and dropped the hammer on the wooden counter.

Sputtering on the ground, the cop was a pathetic sight, but Mooky had no sympathy for him. Holt had terrorized Blue. He had stalked his children. He tried to end his club. This man deserved hours of pain, and Mooky had a duty to deliver it.

CHAPTER 29

Blue

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