Page 56 of Lord of Debauchery

Hammer—check.

I slowly turned around to face the guy, amused his eyes were open wide. He appeared as a typical accountant, rumpled around the edges from crunching numbers. For some insane reason, my gut screamed that’s what he’d been to this secret organization. He obviously wasn’t a hitman or a high-ranking officer or he wouldn’t have been spouting off at the mouth.

“Mr. Barker. I’m saddened to need to meet under these circumstances. My associate mentioned you are very entertaining.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Bob decided to demand, acting as if being tied up naked in a shithole of a location wasn’t a big deal.

“My name is Beckham Kennedy. My family is pretty well known in the area.”

At least my admittance garnered an immediate look of terror in his eyes. Good for him. It meant he hadn’t been completely jaded. Yet.

“What do you want from me?” As he yanked at the chains again, his eyes fell to the instruments on the makeshift table.

“Simply the truth. That’s it.”

“About what?” He threw a quick look toward Jeff and for a few seconds, I noticed venom. Another atta-boy. At least the guy had spunk.

“The Death Squad.” I carefully selected the saw on purpose, turning it on and nodding at Camden. “The battery works.”

“Of course, sir. Nothing but the best for you for your… cutting skills.” While I wasn’t in the habit of cutting off limbs, those idiots falling under severe scrutiny didn’t need to know that.

Bob’s eyes opened wide. I walked closer, lowering the instrument of doom. “So, what do you know?”

“Never heard of them.”

“Really? Well, it would seem you told my associate they were like the big, bad wolf. So, what’s the truth?”

He sputtered for a couple of seconds. “Look, I don’t know shit.”

“Then why say something to the effect they were going to unleash the wrath of God?” Okay, so I was egging it on and spinning his words but what the heck? So a guy couldn’t have a little fun in his work?

“I just… Okay, I’ve heard of them. You know, in circles.”

“Mmm… Whose circles? Be specific and you live.”

“Just people spouting shit. Come on. You know how it goes.”

“No. Why don’t you tell me?”

He was suddenly blubbering, which I absolutely loathed. “They are bad people. That’s what I heard.”

“Understood. Did you work for them? I’m going to take a guess you were one of their… let’s say accountants?”

I could tell by the look in his eyes I was right. I turned on the little powerful saw once again, bringing it to within an inch of his face.

“Stop. Please just stop. Okay. I did work for a branch of their operation, but I assure you I knew shit. They’re very private. They don’t talk to anyone. I was simply told to keep certain books while saying nothing to anyone.”

“Which is why you were spouting off at a bar.”

He hung his head and I’ll be damned if the man wasn’t crying. Soon, he would be pleading for his life. Typical but a pain in my ass. “They fired me. I was angry.”

At least maybe we were getting somewhere. “Okay. Understandable but my guess is you knew it was risky.”

He snorted, snot flying from his nose. “Yeah, but I wasn’t thinking. Why do you care?”

“Care? Because the fuckers have it in for my family.” I was surprised I’d allowed my voice to increase in decibels. So much of my recent behavior wasn’t like me that it was getting tough to navigate through the mucky waters.

“Don’t feel special,” Bob choked out. “You’re only one of dozens of targets.”

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