by Darcy Ray
I can feel the heat from my face, and my facial muscles are tight from scowling. David starts to fill the silence, but I raise my hand for him to wait. Raising from my desk, I slowly start to make my way over to the limp body. "Everyone line up. David, retrieve the rest of the guards and lock up the building." No one hesitates to do as I commanded. Maybe it was the no-nonsense tone I have or maybe the expression on my face. Ignoring the buzzing in my back pocket, I squat down and pat the intruder’s pockets searching for his wallet.
Finding it quickly in his back pocket, I start to dig through it as I wait for the other guards this buffoon slipped by. I’m hoping to find some usual information, but instead, I find a hotel key card, a wad of cash, a few scribbled on sticky notes, and a picture of what looks to be this dickhead’s family. Keeping the wallet in hand, I stand up and walk over to my desk. Tossing the wallet down, I turn and prop myself on the edge of my desk and cross my ankles. My phone hasn't stopped buzzing, and since we are still waiting, I pull it out and see it’s Joe calling.
With a swipe of my thumb, I answer the call. "Hello love; you're missing out on my surprise guest." My humor couldn't be any duller. My good vibes are gone, and I just want to fucking strangle someone right about now.
"I heard. We are three minutes out. Who let the fucker in? Better yet, they are all getting punished." In the background, I can hear Viktor and Frank arguing about something, and knowing Godfrey, he is probably sitting quietly, contemplating revenge.
I watch as the rest of the guards enter my office and step either around or over the body on the floor. They don't meet my eyes and don't question anyone on why they are here. Clicking my tongue, I wrap up my call. "Look, babe, I gotta go. See you in a few, mmkay? Bye!" I don't wait for a response and end the call.
With the phone back in my pocket, I cross my arms and stare at all eleven guards. "So, I'm going to make this short and sweet. Who let him in?" No one responds; instead, they just stare at the floor with their hands clasped behind their back. "No one? Okay, which way did he come in? Let's see if you know that one."
"He had to have come through the back, ma'am. LT and I were at the front and only found out something happened when David came to get us." His tone is so sure and confident, and with a quick glance to LT, he nods his head in agreement.
"Well, that just leaves the back entrance. Because let’s be real here gentlemen, that bastard isn’t Santa Claus, and we don’t have a fucking chimney! Now, I'm going to ask this once. WHO THE FUCK WAS ON THE BACK DOOR?!"
The guard at the end of line steps forward and looks over to me. "I was ma'am. I stepped away to—" I don't let him finish his excuse, the second he stepped forward, I was already in motion. Thankfully the echo of the gun going off wasn't too loud since we are in a well-insulated room. Blood splatter covers the monitors, and the three guards that stood next to him are sprayed with it. The guard standing next to the now-dead guard has a piss spot on the front of his pants and the rest of them all stand unsteadily with their eyes wide.
Michael, the intruder, starts to groan and wiggle on the floor, and I'm guessing he sees the dead body because he starts jerking around and yelling. "What the fuck? This bitch is crazy! Let me go! ¡El señor de las drogas te atrapa!" In the middle of his rant, Frank, Viktor, Joe, and Godfrey walk into the office.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I say whoever is listening, "Can someone knock him out again? I don't want to listen to his shit." I know what drogas are. If there is someone who is selling drugs or even calling themselves a drug lord in my territory, we are going to have fucking issues.
The amount of pressure I'm putting on the corner of my eyes is so intense, I can’t see out of my eyes, so whoever took the initiative to silence him is in my good graces. Before I can even open my eyes, a warm hand is pulling me into their embrace. Releasing my hand, I blink the spots away and see Godfrey’s almond eyes staring down at me. His soft hand glides up my neck and wraps around my neck. Tightening his grip slightly, he raises my chin and meshes his lips with mine.
Our tongues slowly mingle with each other, and our teeth nip at each other’s lips. Our movement is languid and sensual. The throbbing in my head is in sync with my heart, but when he pulls away, he releases his grip, and I’m instantly hit with a rush. Leaning forward, I rest my head on his chest and wait for things to return back to normal.
A throat clears, reminding me that I have things that I need to address in the room. Sighing, I step back and turn toward Joe and Frank. "That's the intruder; his name is Michael, and from his outburst, he works for some drug lord. I already checked his wallet, and there was a hotel key in there. Send two of your guys over there to assess what's going on." Looking over to Godfrey, I continue, "Call Jaime, have him run a search on this guy. I want his life history on my desk in forty-eight hours max. I want to know where his kids go to school, who his wife is, and where he’s lived in the past ten years. Also, I need you to get information out of him. Use whatever means necessary."
Stepping from the desk, I face the guards and glare at them all. "Every single one of you is on probation until I see fit. You are all a team, so when one fucks up, you all fuck up. So no pay for the next two weeks, you all get dirty jobs, and my guys get to have a solid swing at ya. I want the whole damn facility to know you fucked up. Sporting a black eye shall do it."
They all respond with a “yes ma'am” and brace themselves for the beating they are about to endure. I don't feel like being in the room with a bunch of raging testosterone, so I start making my way out, and as I pass each guy, I steal a desire-fueled kiss from them.
It doesn't take long for the guys to dole out punishments, so by the time they join me at the bar, I'm only finishing up my second shot of tequila. Joe leans beside me and motions over his shoulder. "We are taking this guy down to the basement, there isn't anything down there, and there won't be any curious eyes. Wanna go with us?"
The shot glass in my hands can only hold the answer for little problems, my current headache, unfortunately, is not one of them. Setting it down, I slide from my stool and scowl at the limp body that is being dragged in between Frank and Viktor. "Let's get this shit started. I want to know why he thinks it’s perfectly okay to barge into my fucking establishment." The guys only grunt in agreement and start toward the back room where the entrance to the dank basement waits.
I've never been down there in all the years I’ve worked here, so when they open the door and start their descent, I find myself thoroughly shocked. Instead of a musky, spider-infested area, it is a bright and clean room. The ground is gray concrete, and in the center, there is a drain. Each wall contains some kind of shelving unit and on those shelves are a bunch of tools. At the base of the stairs, there is rack holding four aprons and mounted on the wall are boxes of gloves. To top it all off, there is a large steel chair dead center.
As I take in the room, I can't help but whistle my surprise. "Holy shit! What is this? Torture one-oh-one? Remind me to never get on y'alls bad side." Behind me, Godfrey’s sadistic laugh bounces off the walls, making this room even creepier.
The guys heave Michael into a chair and get him strapped in. I find a spot in the corner to post up and observe. I expect Godfrey to join me on the side, but when I see him again, I can't help but stare. Donned in a thick apron and rubber gloves, he looks as if he is about to butcher the limp person in the chair.
The theory must be readable on my face because the second Godfrey takes in my expression; he curls his lips into a grin more intimidating than the grinch. With that same grin, he walks over one of the walls and removes a hammer, grabs a handful of nails, and a pliers off its hook. With everything in hand, he walks over to the intruder and sneers, "Welcome to my hell."
Chapter Twelve
A chill shoots up my spine and goosebumps cover my arms. Godfrey's icy tone is one I've never heard before, but judging by the expression on the rest of the guys’ faces, it’s something they've experienced before. I watch as Godfrey circles Micha
el as if he is prey and Godfrey is looking for a weak spot, a place where he can tackle and destroy his prey without a struggle. Michael finally starts to come to, and as he does, he flinches under the bright light and then looks around. In the brief time he has been awake, I have seen a wider range of emotions than what Frank goes through in an entire day—fear, anger, confusion, and desperation.
Frank, being the lead of security, is the first one to approach the dickwad. "Who sent you here, and what do they want?"
With an audacity he doesn't deserve, dickwad hocks a loogie and spits it at Frank. "Fuck you! Each and every one of you are gonna get it, even that dumb cunt over there." The scowl on his face is quickly smacked away by the back of Joe's hand. With the noise-canceling walls, the slap doesn't echo, but I know the bastard will be feeling for a couple of days.
Godfrey’s cold glare swings over to me as if he is waiting for me to command him to take retribution. Answering his wordless question, I nonchalantly say, "Y'all can use whatever torture tactics you please. Just keep him alive. I want that fucking idiot to spread the news about who they are trying to fuck with." A sick smile creeps across Godfrey’s face as he turns his attention back toward Michael, who is shaking his head as if he doesn't believe shit is going to happen to him.
With every step closer that Godfrey gets, Michael’s expression morphs into one of pure terror. He starts squirming in his restraints which makes the chair squeak under his weight. Finding it useless, he starts to yell. His screams are quickly absorbed into the padding of the walls, and when Godfrey is nearly standing on top of him, he quiets down to a whimper.
Godfrey takes the needle nose pliers and advances to the white-knuckled hand that's curling around the arm of the chair. He has to nearly break the dickwad’s fingers to get one wrenched off the chair. In a motion quicker than I can follow, Godfrey has an entire nail held up in the air. A shrill scream fills the room as blood starts to drip off the raw flesh. "What the fuck did you do? You’re fucking psycho!" Michael's screams are cut off when Joe sucker punches him in the face and nearly knocks him out.
I swear I heard the sound of a bone cracking from the punch that was laid on him. Shaking my head, I continue to watch as Godfrey removes each and every fingernail at a painstakingly slow pace. As the last one falls, Godfrey starts to walk away, and a hoarse Michael sags in relief. Little does he know, this is just the beginning.
Viktor pushes off from his perch and approaches our dim-witted torture participant and slaps him in his upper arm to get his attention. "Who's your boss? Why are you here?" Michael only shakes his head in response. He clams up and locks it all away. Well, damn, I'll give him that. He isn't going to break . . . yet.
Pursing his lips, Vik pulls a blade from his pocket and flips it open. The glistening edge of the blade shows how sharp it is, and as he tilts it into the light, it shimmers as if it were made of diamonds. I watch as Vik starts to make slow circles around Michael as if he is debating on which angle he was to approach. On his third lap, he finally puts the blade to the blanched skin. Standing from my chair, I slide my way over to where Joe is standing and lean against him.
From where I'm positioned, I can see the pressure Vik is applying isn't enough to even slice the first layer, but as the cold steel makes contact with Michael's flesh, he jerks and causes the blade to sink into his skin. Unintelligible screams tear from his throat, and he moves some more, only making the wound even worse. Viktor pays no mind to it though; instead, he starts to walk around Michael and drags the blade along with him. Not stopping, he starts to shred the front of Michael's shirt open which leaves a nasty, sweaty, hairy chest exposed.
I nearly gag from how revolting he looks—even worse with all the blood running down his neck and chest. With a scowl, Viktor slams blade into Michael's thigh and lets it sit there. The movement was done with such force, I could hear the blade scraping against the bone and following right after a scream erupts. Smiling at the pure carnage of what's going on in front of me, I walk over and grip the protruding blade.
My eyes lock with dickwad’s bloodshot ones, and I snap at him. "Tell us who your boss is and why the fuck you busted into my establishment!"
"FUCK YOU, YOU CRAZY BITCH!" His face is now bright red, spittle flies out of his mouth, and snot drips out of his nose. His answer doesn't satisfy me, so I twist the blade deeper into his fleshy thigh. Michael's screams fill the room, and the sound of torture gives me a dark sense of satisfaction.
Releasing the blade, I purr out to a retort, "Wanna try that answer again Michael? I'm not the one with a blade shoved in my thigh, surrounded by people who would gladly torture you with a simple command." Through his mangled shouts for mercy, he still managed to curse me to hell and back, and I'm honestly getting fed up with him. My patience for this asshole is wearing thin. But then, the bastard decides he wants to headbutt me.
Without stalling, I yank the dagger out of his thigh all while ignoring the squelching sound as the serrated tip rips through more muscle. Blood starts to ooze out; luckily, it isn't pulsating, so I know his artery is still intact. My head is throbbing from where we made contact, but I push through. Sneering at the bastard, I wave Frank and Godfrey over. "Tilt his head to the side and hold it still." My voice holds such fierce authority that no one questions what I'm going to do or even hesitates. Not that Godfrey would, I mean, from the look in his eyes, he is enjoying this torture to the fullest.
Michael struggles against the hold he is in, which makes Godfrey’s muscles bulge. I can’t help but drink in his pure fucking sexiness. He has a trim build like a swimmer and all the right muscles to go along with it. Fuck, I really need to get my hands on him. Grunting curses yank me out of the lustful daze I’m in and pull my attention back to the bastard in front of me. Taking a step forward, I reach out and grip the exposed ear that is redder than a fucking fire truck and pull it away from Michael’s head. "You have one more fucking chance, or else I’m going to chop your fucking ear off and make you the fucking reincarnation of Van Gogh!" I’m squeezing the handle of the blade so tight it’s starting to turn my fingers white, but this bastard is pissing me the fuck off on all kinds of levels.
"I'M NOT TELLING YOU SHIT! FUCKING KILL ME YOU DUMB CUNT!" Michael’s fucking call for death makes me itch to make it happen, but I need to pass a message to his boss. So, no one is dying today.
My head falls back as I let out an exasperated groan, "Fine, you obviously don’t fucking listen." With a flick of my wrist, I slice his ear off and watch as blood starts gushing from the open wound. With the fatty cartilage in hand, I take the opportunity to shove it in his gaping mouth as he screams bloody murder. Shaking his head, he tries to fling the chunk of his ear out of his mouth. Gagging noises sound in between the screams and his voice cracks as if it is nearly gone. Turning away from Michael, I stride toward Godfrey and wrap my bloodied hand around his neck and pull him down.
Our lips meet with a bruising force, but I don’t fucking care. I love the pain that his eyes promise me, and with the way he grips my waist, I know that whatever he throws my way will be painfully amazing. Sucking on his bottom lip, I give it a nip and moan as the taste of iron explodes in my mouth. Godfrey’s grip on my waist tightens, and his nails bite into my skin through my shirt. Let there be bruises; I'll proudly show them to the fucking world. Sliding closer to him, I press my body against his trim frame and gasp when I feel his rigid cock pressing against my belly.
Pulling back from my venturing mouth, Godfrey lets out a frustrated groan and rests his hands on my shoulders to hold me back. "As much as I would like to take this further, Blue, we need to get him out of here before we have a dead body in your establishment." With a pout, I turn my attention over to Michael, who is silently sobbing and reaching for whatever is left of his ear while the cut off chunk lays on the floor in between his feet.
"Fine, guys, let’s get him out of here and deliver him to his house. Once you get him out of our hands, come home to me." My need is laced in my comm
and, and from the sultry looks Frank, Joe, and Viktor are giving me, they heard it. Looking down at myself, I scowl at the blood covering me and start to wipe my hands off. A snort escapes me as the blood only smears further on my hands and now more so on my clothes. Rolling my eyes, I hand Godfrey the knife that I’m still holding and make my way over to the stairs. "I'll be at the apartment. I'm starving, and I want that fucker’s blood off of me."
They all grunt in understanding and without waiting any longer, I climbed the stairs and exited out of the torture chamber. As I emerge, I notice the halls are fuller than when we went down, and nearly everyone turns their head. Thank fuck everyone knows better than to question why I look like Carrie, so I make it out the back exit without any hassle. Jumping into my truck, I jam the key into the ignition, turn my monster on, and speed out of there.
I'm only two blocks away before my cell starts vibrating in my pocket and with it paired to the Bluetooth in my truck, I notice it's Mr. Devoy, the Director of the FBI. What on god's earth is he doing calling me? Pursing my lips, I press the answer button on my steering wheel. "What do I owe the pleasure, old man?"
The sound of his phone being lifted from the receiver sounds followed by a cough to clear his throat. "I wanted to let you know I just intercepted a call to the police. There was a civilian calling frantic saying she saw a woman with bright blue hair covered in blood. You wouldn't happen to know who that is, would you Selene?"
Cursing under my breath, I make a mental note to ask Viktor to watch the security cameras to check who the snitch was. "I wouldn’t have a single clue. You know I'm not the only one with blue hair so it’s kinda presumptuous that you would instantly think of me."