Page 65 of Avenging Kelly

I tied a knot in the middle of it and stared at her. I truly had to wonder if I was as badass as I thought, but since I didn’t remember the things that happened when I was in the field, I couldn’t guess.

When she didn’t answer, I grabbed her fucking jaw and squeezed to the point I finally saw fear in her eyes. “I’ll shatter it. Tell me.”

She jerked her head away and definitely glared at me. “Every one-hundred-twelve minutes.”

“Startin’ when?” Smokey asked.

Austin stepped closer and picked up her chair. The guy was a fucking wall. “Where’s the phone you’re supposed to use?”

I really wanted to know what he planned to do if she didn’t answer, but then he walked over to the large picture window in the living room and put down the chair before stepping over to the iron and glass coffee table in front of the couch, picking up the heavy glass and leaning it against the wall. He then picked up the heavy frame and took it over to where she was sitting, resting the frame on the arms of the chair.

“If I throw this coffee table frame through the window with enough force, it’ll break this tempered, double-paned glass into a million little pieces. Those on the street will be in danger of being cut, but then when I throw you out after it, chair and all, they won’t give a damn about the cuts because they’ll have a great story to tell the reporters on the six o’clock news.”

I had never seen The Gambler’s eyes get so big in all the years I’d had to deal with her. “Starting at four o’clock.”

“Phone,” Austin demanded.

“Utensil drawer.”

I grinned as the big guy went into the kitchen while I shoved the knot into her mouth and tied the towel behind her head. I made it really fucking tight, just for my satisfaction.

“We mark twelve hours from four-fifteen,” I stated as I glanced at Smokey, who nodded and pecked something into his phone before sliding it into the breast pocket of his dark green button down.

Austin returned with a red smart phone in his hand. “I’ll keep track of the time for this,” he stated as he held up the phone and sat down in the other armchair, his gaze focused on Ritchfield.

There was a knock on the door, and before I could get there, Smokey buttoned his jacket and opened the door, putting himself in the position to block the view into the room. “Howdy, ma’am, Officer Richey,” he greeted. I saw a blue baseball cap with yellow letters, POLICE, over the top of Smokey’s shoulder.

Smokey looked down, which was a sign that he was taller than his companions and able to block their view. “What can I do for y’all?” Smokey asked, really pouring on the honey.

“Mrs. Pfeifer said Dr. Gamble lives here and can explain what happened today when two assailants broke into her next-door apartment,” a female voice said.

Smokey cleared his throat. “Um, let me step out here and see if I can help clear things up for you. She’s not home right now.” He glanced over his shoulder and closed the door.

And we were on the clock…

* * *

6:50 PM

“We’ve got two minutes before the call,” Austin announced.

I took off the gag and offered Ritchfield a bottle of water with a straw that Austin had found in a drawer.

I’d looked at Dom’s head earlier and used some surgical glue to seal the cut and stop the bleeding. It was sweet how Austin kneeled down next to him and held his hand.

“What day is it, Willow?” Of course, Dom got a little ticked when Austin went through a list of questions he’d found on the internet to ask of concussion victims to determine their mental acuity. Those two were made for each other.

“I won’t put it back on if you’ll be a good girl,” I told Ritchfield as I held up the knotted towel.

What surprised me was Smokey pulled out that big-ass cannon he carried and pointed it at Ritchfield’s knee, tapping the barrel of the gun against her khaki slacks. “Have you ever been shot in the knee with a Smith & Wesson 350 Legend? Hurts like a motherfucker. So, unless you want to experience it first-hand, you’ll say exactly what you have to say to get us through another one-hundred-and-twelve minutes.”

“What’s the number?” I asked as Austin handed me the phone.

“Speed one,” she stated. I could feel the hatred rolling off her. I’d bet money she wouldn’t want my fingers anywhere near her vagina after this.

Smokey stayed there in front of her, gun pressed against her knee as if he dared her to make him shoot her.

“Ask how my man is,” I insisted as I held the phone in front of her. It rang twice.

---