Page 38 of Leo, My Partner

My stomach roils, hearing him talk about raping and murdering young girls like it’s nothing. Leo listens attentively, his face not giving away anything about learning this bit of information. I find it hard to not fucking deck him again, but Leo gives me another small shake of his head, so I back off.

Once Michael is done talking, he licks his lips and wiggles. “I won’t tell the cops what happened. I’ll tell my job I got into an accident or something. You can trust I won’t tell anyone you kidnapped me. Besides, I can’t go to the cops if I told you about what I did to those girls.” Michael laughs nervously as he looks at Leo. “You can let me up now.”

“Oh, Michael. What gave you the idea that I’m not a liar?” Leo smiles his real smile, all his dark thoughts flashing on his face. Michael’s eyes widen, and he starts begging, telling Leo he’ll give him whatever he wants, to just let him go.

Leo ignores him, walking over to me. “Can I have my fun?”

I slide closer to him, kissing him gently on the cheek. I’ve asked all I needed to know. Now it’s his turn to keep his promise to me. “Yes. I can’t wait to see.”

CHAPTER 13

LEO

Ty might be small, but he’s powerful as fuck. It wasn’t that he hit this rapist in just the right place to split his shit open; it’s that every punch he landed released a torrent of blood. Michael’s face is a fucking mess, and I want to glide my hand through the hot, sticky liquid that’s cascading down his cheeks. Even through my gloves, I’d be able to feel the coppery substance on my hands. But I control myself. What I have planned for him will more than satisfy my need for blood and gore.

Taking a deep breath and trying to calm my arousal from watching Ty, I point to the bag at our feet. “There’s a handheld blowtorch in there. Grab it for me.”

Michael chokes on a sob. “Wha-wha-what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to have fun. I haven’t done this is years.”

Ty hands me the blowtorch and steps back, smiling at me. He told me burns cause a different kind of pain, which gave me an idea.

Once, when Ivan brought home a man that pissed him off in a pub for me to use as a torture victim, he lit the fireplace and put some metal rods in the flames. Ivan showed me places to burn a man that would leave him in agony. The sensitive areas. That was over fifteen years ago, and I’ve barely had the chance to do it again. When Ty mentioned burns, I knew this would be the perfect time to use the techniques Ivan taught me.

But it’ll be different. No space or time to let metal rods heat until they glow cherry red. What I have is more than enough.

I flick the blowtorch on, heightening and lowering the flame. I want him to hurt, but I don’t want him passing out from the pain. I also don’t want him to get third-degree burns. Third-degree burns destroy the nerve endings, and he won’t feel the pain as acutely. He needs to suffer for me to be satisfied and for Ty to feel like his friend is getting justice.

Smiling with excitement at being able to work like this, I take the blowtorch to Michael’s fingers. He screams, the sound rocking my ear drums. With a wide grin, I breathe in the acrid smell of burning skin. It’s been so long.

I move the blowtorch from one finger to the next, watching the flesh bubble and blacken under my ministrations. I make sure I spread the burning out, lest it go too deep. Michael tries to move his hand while he screams loud enough to wake the dead, but the tape has no give. He’s at my mercy.

Once his entire left hand is burned to the point of being almost unrecognizable, I move to the right. Michael’s screams build higher in pitch, then he starts to gurgle from the pressure at the back of his throat from the intensity. I fucking love that sound. The screams of my victims are the highest form of praise for my work.

I turn the flame off, giving Michael a bit of a break so I can enjoy his cries. I look over at Ty, who’s watching with rapt attention. I grin over at him, and his eyes widen before he returns it. What does he see in my eyes? Does he see the excitement I can hardly contain when I get to play with fire? Especially when I get to play with fire on a person? Ivan told me fire was too unpredictable, only a spark needed to cause an inferno. But I have experience, having killed most of the animals with fire. I know how to handle it. The blowtorch makes it easier, guiding the flame exactly where I want it.

Fire has a way of cleansing my mind when not much else can. I’ve come a long way from setting fires to watch shit burn and killing animals, but I’ll never stop enjoying watching what fire does to flesh.

Michael cries and moans, begs and prays. I soak it all in, letting his cries go on for another minute or two. Then I get back to work.

Turning the blowtorch back up, I move down to the soles of Michael’s feet, answering Ty’s earlier silent question of why I removed his socks. I hold the blowtorch to the bottom of his right foot, watching Michael thrash on the table as the skin begins to peel away. It doesn’t take long for the soles to blacken and curl, turning into hard shells that reveal the pink flesh underneath. I keep going, frying the exposed tissue.

When the soles of Michael’s feet are crispy and he’s sobbing and screaming, I turn the blowtorch off and toss it aside. With my gloved hands, I grab a hold of Michael’s foot. It’s still warm to the touch, his sloughed off skin sticking to my glove. Squeezing tight, I pull up, taking the skin along the way. I toss the skin on the table, then move to his other extremities, pulling the blackened skin off. At this point, Michael is making inhuman sounds. I smile. The air hitting the exposed areas of his feet is probably torturous, and I’m loving that. I drag a finger over the burned flesh, listening to another sharp cry leave Michael’s throat.

Once that messy work is done, I remove those gloves and don another pair. I close my eyes, breathe in deeply, then let the air glide out. When I open them, my eyes land on Ty, who hasn’t moved from the spot he initially took. His blue-and-brown eyes flash as he takes in the scene, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Instead, I go to my kill kit, bring it to the table near Michael’s head, and open it. “I’m done with him, kotenok. I think he’ll be in enough pain until the end. You’re up. Which would you prefer?” I ask Ty, indicating the numerous weapons in front of us.

Michael sobs louder, irritating me now. I’m trying to talk to my man. He needs to shut the fuck up. “Please don’t. Please. Just … please stop. I’m so sorry. I’ll tell the cops what I did and where the bodies are.” His voice is hoarse from his screaming. “People will look for me. They’ll know I’m missing.” He sobs more, the tears leaking from his eyes quickly.

“No, they won’t,” I tell him conversationally, gently touching the knives that are in my kit. “You’re a loner. No partner, no friends, and your family fucking hates you because you’re a rapist. You don’t even talk to your neighbors. No one will know you’re gone for a few days, maybe even a week.” I glance back at Ty, indicating for him to step closer to the table.

Ty sidles up to me, looking down at Michael with a look of pure disgust, then glances over at the blades. “I don’t give a fuck who will be searching for you, Michael. You don’t deserve to live. Your family should know you’re a killer on top of being a rapist, and they will. Everyone will know.” Ty stops talking and glances back at Michael. “I’m going to kill you. And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”

The sound of glee in Ty’s voice makes me hard, and I rub up against him. Bending to his ear, I say, “See what you do to me?”

He looks at me with a wide grin. “You’re a mess.”

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