Page 2 of Killer Confections
His arms are bare, showing off both of his full sleeves. Red and black ink show well on his pale complexion, swirling designs along with a few Greek gods he commissioned the syndicate tattoo artist to create.
I shrug. “You know I do my best work at night.” I throw my head over my shoulder, giving Charles a reassuring look. “Not that we’re working. I just need answers.”
The man pants, nodding his head as wide eyes stare back at me.
I turn back to Dom, languidly slicing a thumb across my throat, sealing Charles’ fate regardless of the information he gives me.
My right hand pushes from the table and pulls his backpack off his back as he sets up the butcher block.
I pull the folded picture from my pocket, thanking the internet for my find. I open it, the middle-class apartments that rest in downtown Columbus blown up on the paper.
The building is nothing extraordinary. It’s vintage, with its beige stucco outside and black wrought iron guardrails. The path leading to the building is thick with flowers and bushes; the vines cluttering the walkways. It adds to the building’s harmony, giving it a look lost in time.
I hold the picture up to Charles and he flinches away from me, turning his head as his eyes slam shut.
I grab his cheeks, forcing him to look. “I’m not gonna hit you…again.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dominic curses, shaking his head.
He’s reminiscing about when we shoved Charles’ limp body into the trunk of his Audi. The fucker wouldn’t fit, so I used my foot to shove him down as far as I could into the small opening before slamming the deck lid down on him.
Then I realized the guy’s fingers were still poking out of the trunk, peaking through the cracks and looking mighty fucking broken.
“Look at the picture,” I command, my deep tone causing the man to jump before he studies it. “You know this place, don’t you? You’ve been here every time you’re in Ohio.”
His brows furrow, a muffled sound coming from him in realization of what he’s looking at. He attempts to thrash again and I slap a strong hand across his cheek before grabbing his jaw.
“Don’t piss me off. It’s a yes or no question.”
He’s hesitant, not wanting to give the location of his mistress away.
It’s fucking sad. The man has a wife and two kids back in Seattle. He has the whole white picket fence shit going for him, but he still doesn’t feel fulfilled.
It makes me sick.
I’m growing bored with his fear. Unlike my sister, the entertainment of enticing terror in my victims grows tiresome for me. Thalia could play with her victims fordays. Meanwhile, the begging and whining just agitates me.
“Yes or no, big man,” I grit, shoving the picture closer to his face. He still tries to deny it and I look at Dom. “Get the fucking pliers.”
Dom pulls them from his bag, a flash of steel in his grip as he lazily holds the red handle.
Charles attempts to scream against the gag, shaking his head as he begs me with watery eyes.
Oh, god. Is he fucking crying?
I release him, my shoulders shaking as I pull my phone out of my back pocket. “Hold on. I have to save this one. Smile for the wife and kids.” My camera flashes and I admire the picture of the bound and gagged CEO on my phone screen.
“Seriously?” Dom asks. “Are you really sending that to his wife?”
“Not if he gives me what I want,” I lie before pocketing my phone and showing Charles the picture.
“You know this place?” I ask.
He’s quick to respond, nodding his head.
“Your mistress lives in unit twenty-nine, right?” I know the answer, but this is a test. Will he lie out of his ass, or give me what I’m looking for to save himself?
His eyes close as if he’s in pain. Another sob wracks him as he nods again. His whole body is shaking with his adrenaline and despair.
