Page 67 of The Eraser

I nod, grateful for their help. "Stick around, gentleman. You're going to be in for a real treat," I say with a grin.

Unlike others, I don't mind having an audience when I'm killing. In fact, the more the fucking merrier. It's why tales of the Eraser are told far and wide. I'm a myth to so many people, a story kids tell one another to scare the shit out of each other. Today, the Eraser is going to torture someone before putting them into the machine.

I smirk when I see Fintan is tied up much like Callie was, and Thomas is tied to a slab of concrete, imitating the way Jess was back in the mausoleum. "Well, boys, I have to say, this is a great surprise."

Pyro chuckles. "Thought you'd like that. Now, as you know, my brothers love a good show, and half of them have no idea what they're in store for, so Maguire, don't let them down."

I hear Maverick's laughter. "Oh, they're in for a real fucking treat. Settle in, guys. You're in for the time of your lives."

I move to Thomas, pulling out my knife and slicing through his shirt, exposing his back, just as Jess' had been. "Your daughter's alive," I inform him. "My wife is going to make a full recovery and she's going to live a happy and fucking healthy life."

"Bitch," he snarls. "That fucking bitch has more lives than a cat."

"We don't need to ask if you do. After I'm finished with you, you'll be deader than a doornail."

"Funny," he spits. "But what are you going to do, Maguire? Hmm? Jer won't allow you to kill me. The men will want revenge."

"Bullshit," Jer fires back as he comes into view. "No man will ever want to go against Stephen. Well, no sane man, at least. But I, for one, have no qualms in him killing you. In fact, I encourage it." He steps forward, his eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. "I fucking warned you not to touch her. You fucking cunt. You hurt her, and for that you're going to die. You killed my sister and you almost killed my niece. There's no man alive who would ever go to bat for you. Not fucking one." Jer turns to me. "Have fun," he says with a wicked grin. "Make it fucking hurt."

"Oh, I fucking intend to."

I reach for the lighter fluid I had Maverick pick up for me while I was at the hospital. Three fucking bottles of it. I don't waste a fucking drop; I pour all three of them over his back and body, making sure to cover every fucking inch of him.

"Maguire," he snarls. "What the fuck are you doing to me?" he cries.

"Isn't this what you did to her?" I ask, my voice void of emotion. "Well?"

"She deserved it. She's the fucking reason my Patty was leaving me."

I laugh. "No, that was all your fault. You were a fucking prick, Thomas. You're the one to blame for your marriage breaking, not a fucking fourteen-year-old girl."

I reach for the box of matches that are on the side, the ones I use when burning evidence. I strike the match against the strip, and the sound of the sizzle as it catches soothes my anger somewhat. This fucker is going to be in for a world of hurt and I'm so fucking glad. He deserves every single cry and roar of pain and then so much more.

I flick the match down and it lands on his back, igniting the lighter fluid that soaks his skin. He groans low as the flames flick higher. I stand back against the wall.

The hush that falls over the room is priceless. Everyone is fixated on the cunt tied to the concrete slab before us.

Thomas' low groans of pain transform into a high-pitched scream as the fire quickly catches, engulfing his entire back, dancing along his skin, just like it did Jess'. The smell of burning flesh fills the room, making some of the men choke slightly. Fintan's eyes are wide, and he's coughing at the stench that coats the air. He's worried that he's next. He need not be. This is reserved for Thomas and only Thomas. My machine is what I have planned for him, and I know he'll be crying out just as Thomas is now.

"Oh God, oh God," he howls, writhing in agony. The ties that bind him to the concrete strain against his efforts to escape, but there's no running from this. He's past the point of salvation now. He was never going to get a chance at redemption. He made his bed the moment he put his hands on her.

"That's right, Thomas," I sneer, watching as he thrashes around in his futile attempt to douse the flames that are devouring him alive. He's whimpering now, tears making tracks down his face. "How does it feel? Hmm? How does it feel to be on the receiving end for once?"

He should never have touched Jessica. Such a pure soul should never have been inflicted with the torture he put her through.

And all he can do is scream and scream, until his voice gives out and all that's left are tiny whimpers and gasps for air that grow softer and softer, until finally, everything goes quiet. His body slumps forward, still smoldering slightly from the flames that have ceased to flicker.

Leaning back against the wall, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. It’s over. The relief floods in, along with an unexpected feeling: satisfaction. I haven't ever felt as satisfied from killing someone. I've always wanted to do more, kill more, but with Thomas, it's been a fucking long time coming. It was personal. Too fucking personal. And now that he's dead, I can assure my wife that he'll never hurt her again.

"So," Pyro says with a barely concealed laugh. "What's next?"

"Next?" I hear Alessio say. "The fuck you mean next?"

Alessio is one of the Bianchi brothers. He's the boss of the Italian mafia in Denver. His brother Dante is married to Denis' sister and she was called, but the entire family came out to help.

"Oh, Alessio." Py grins. "Just wait and see. Maguire here is a fucking master at killing and you are in for a fucking treat."

I hear the chuckles sound and I know it's from the people who have seen me at work. They're eager for me to get my wood chipper started up.

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