Page 5 of The Kingpin's Omega Lover
“I have a better idea,” King replied, pausing right in front of Landau. “You get to ask me ten questions. Yes or no answers only. If you ask a question that is not yes or no, you forfeit the question and receive a punishment.” Bishop shifted to stand slightly to King’s right. “Fair?”
“I guess.” Landau glared at them both. “Who are you?”
King threw up his right hand in a stop gesture, not at all shocked the man had blown his first question so epically, but also curious what Bishop would do. They hadn’t pre-planned this interrogation; they’d simply participated in enough to trust each other. “That was not yes or no.”
Bishop raised what appeared to be a black pistol and aimed it at Landau’s face. Landau screamed and jerked, but he had nowhere to go. Bishop squeezed the trigger and a line of water shot across the space, splattering in Landau’s left ear. Landau squealed and shook his head and tried to rub his ear against his shoulder.
“That looked a touch painful,” King said. “You know, once an exterior surface reaches a certain temperature, water will freezeto it.” He tilted his own head toward Landau’s shriveled crotch. “Bet it will hurt worse in more delicate places. I wonder if we can get your dick cold enough, frozen enough, that it’ll snap off like a twig.”
Landau snarled again, but with less fury and more stark realization that he wasn’t talking his way out of this. “Please, don’t do that. I’ll talk. Let me down and I’ll talk.”
“No. You have nine questions.”
“Fuck.” Wild eyes bounced around the room, seeking salvation that did not exist in such a frozen hell. “Am I still in Colorado?”
“No.”
King had briefly read this man’s details on the trip to the warehouse: Norris Landau, age forty-five; Master’s in Business from Notre Dame; CFO of multiple firms over the course of his career; currently lived outside Denver, Colorado; and nearly a million dollars paid to the Farm to rape and torture other people in secret and without repercussions.
Until now.
“Will you let me live, even if I cooperate?”
“No.”
Landau whimpered. “Fuck. Can you tell me why you’re doing this to me?”
Of course, King could tell him, if he chose to. “Yes.”
When King didn’t elaborate, Landau growled, “Will you tell me?”
“Yes.” Landau was a dead man, and he deserved time to reflect on his sins before he took them with him to hell. “Your activity on the Farm, of course. Money does not give you the right to do what you did to your victims. Nothing gives anyone the right.”
“The Farm? What farm? Wait.” He stared hard at King for several long moments. “You’re that kingpin whose omegabrother was kidnapped from a fundraiser. I heard about it from a pal. I didn’t have nothing to do with your brother, man! You gotta let me go.”
King allowed the corners of his mouth to twist into what he knew was a dark, intimidating smile. More than once, someone he’d questioned had pissed their pants when they saw that smile. “The only reason I’m holding back is because my brother escaped that hellish Farm before anyone raped him. But he wasn’t the Farm’s only occupant. You didn’t hurt him directly, but you hurt someone he cares about.”
Someone I care about.
Six months ago, King’s half-brother, Kensley Thorne, had been living a safe (he thought) life as an Omega Priest, inside the Holy Order Ninth Cathedral and attached abbey that he never left. According to what King had allowed to be leaked to the media, a rival of King’s named Castle had kidnapped Kensley during a spaghetti dinner fundraiser, along with a parishioner named Drew Burton. In reality, Bishop (who used the alias Drew Burton) had gotten Kensley out safely and whisked him off to a secure location.
King had leaned into the Castle-kidnapping story to protect Kensley and Bishop, with King even submitting a press release demanding the local police find his brother and punish the people who’d taken him. Legally, Kensley and Drew were still considered missing-persons, and none of King’s employees would contradict that to authorities. King’s “cooperation” with police had also helped bust Castle, who was in jail awaiting all sorts of federal racketeering charges.
One less problem to solve before getting out of this life.
But Kensley’s attempted kidnapping had led to an almost-month-long ordeal that ended in a second, successful kidnapping by a woman named Marta. King had personally deleted the man in his organization who’d sold Bishop andKensley’s location out to Marta, and then given that traitor’s assets to the people who dimed him out as their reward. But that was weeks after.
After Marta sold Kensley to a place called the Farm, where Kensley met the omega male he would be replacing: Malori Cann. Malori had been raped and tortured at the Farm for three years, and had likely been minutes from death when King, Bishop, and their men raided the place.
They had freed nine prisoners, including one other omega male and two alpha females. Everyone except Kensley and Malori had been relocated to new locations. Kensley and Bishop were in love and having a baby in about two more months, while Malori was…surviving.
King had never been as drawn to another human being in his life as he was to Malori, male or female, it didn’t matter. He’d promised Malori that everyone who’d wronged him would be punished. It had been slow going so far, but having Landau here, now, was one more step toward righting those wrongs.
“There’s gotta be something you want,” Landau whined. “Is there something I can give you so you’ll spare my life?”
“No. You have four questions left.”
“Uh, will you let me live if I never ask the final question?”
