Page 108 of Taste of Blood
He starts fighting me as soon as we leave the room, forcing me to punch him so hard across the jaw he bites his tongue. Blood seeps out of his mouth, but at least the hit makes him more compliant.
We exit the lobby to the street and head down the block toward my car, half dragging Cosgrove by his arm. The kid looks up as we approach and grins. He’s not even fazed by the bloodied cuffed man in my custody.
“No one touched your car.”
I pull out another twenty and hand it to him. “Good man.”
The bookie’s two flunkies must’ve spotted us, because they come running at me, looking for a fight. “Where the hell are you taking him?” the bigger of them demands.
I shove Cosgrove into the passenger seat and slam the door then turn around to face them. “Sorry boys, guess your boss forgot to call you. I bought his debt. He’s mine now.”
“You got some proof of that?”
I pull the pink slip out of my pocket and shove it in his face. “Satisfied?”
He looks at it then backs off with a snort. “You’re welcome to him.”
Not that I need your blessing.
The trip back to the warehouse takes about fifteen minutes, during which time Cosgrove doesn’t stop begging. He tries everything to convince me to let him go, all of which I block out. He even resorts to offering to hook me up with “someone” who could pay me more money for my services. Guess we know who that is.
When I get to the warehouse, I call Dante before getting out of the car. “Where do you want him?”
“Take him to the basement and wait for me.”
Great. The basement again.
Like I haven’t seen enough of that the past few days.
I drag the idiot through the door and down the stairs. Things have been cleaned up since I was last here; no sign of the three vamps I tortured and killed.
There’s a metal chair bolted to the floor in one corner of the room and I shove Cosgrove into it and lean against the wall behind him to wait.
“Can you at least take the zip cuffs off?” he whines.
“You’re lucky I don’t tie you to the chair, though that’s still on the table.”
Dante enters the room, followed by Gio and Roland. The big guard has a gleam in his eye, like he’s going to get rewarded for something. He stands back while Dante advances on Cosgrove,his hands clasped behind his back, his own eyes darkening to pitch black. The look doesn’t bode well for the prisoner.
“Why?” Dante asks, raising his foot to rest on the chair between Cosgrove’s legs.
Cosgrove’s eyes flicker around the room, probably looking for an ally. He won’t find one here.
“It’s not what you think,” he insists.
Dante steps back and turns to Roland, whose ham-sized fists are flexing at his side. It’s like he’s moving in slow motion when he takes a step and slams one of them into Cosgrove’s face.
The chair creaks like it’s going to pull loose from the floor. Cosgrove almost falls out of it, his nose a mess of bloody pulp.
“Let’s try this again,” Dante says. “Why did you betray me?”
“I swear, Dante, I’m loyal.”
“I need him to be able to talk,” Dante tells his guard.
Roland nods his understanding. The next punch catches Cosgrove in the side of his head, sparing his jaw. Blood oozes from his ear, and I’m betting he’s not hearing so good right now.
“Here’s how it’s going to go,” Dante says, pacing around the chair. “I’m going to ask you a question and every time you lie to me, Roland is going to decorate your face.” He stops in front of him and leans in. “If that doesn’t convince you, I’m going to let Cord go to work on your body.”
