Page 67 of Bristol

I begin dousing one of his legs in gasoline. Then I move up to his lower stomach, letting it run down the entire front of his body. The fear in his eyes has grown as the smell of gasoline fills the room. I close the gas can and move it to the corner of the room, far from Patrick and the blow torch. The last thing I need is to burn the shop down. Reaper can get out of a lot of shit but I’m not sure even he can buy his way out of that.

Once I’m sure that I won’t burn the whole place down, I grab the blowtorch and approach a gasoline-soaked Patrick.

“I hope you rot in hell when I’m done with you. If God is half the man I know he is, he wouldn’t let you near heaven if you could pay with twenty thousand hail-Mary’s, a priest’s good faith, and your own penance.”

“No,” Patrick grits out. His voice is hoarse from screaming so much over the last few months and he’s struggling to get his words out. He’s lost a few pounds since he’s been here, too. A little bit of food deprivation, sleep deprivation, and well, basically all deprivation.

“Too late.”

I light the blowtorch and press it against his stomach. The front of his body lights up like a Christmas tree. The gasoline-soaked clothes burn fast and his screams are piercing as the fire eats at his skin. The smell of burning flesh makes my stomach turn but I swallow back the bile rising in my throat. I don’t know what the appropriate time is for someone to burn, considering I’ve never done this, and I have no idea how long I was underneath a burning beam since the smoke in the air made me lose consciousness.

Patrick is still screaming so I take that as a good sign that I haven’t killed him yet. I grab the fire extinguisher from the metal cabinet in the corner and spray him until the fire is out. His whole body is trembling, making the chains that bind him rattle together. The sound is irritating but I tune it out. Patrick whimpers, a sound that’s even more irritating than the rattling chains.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Patrick doesn’t say anything. He does get quiet though, the only remaining sound the clinking and rattling of the chains. A knock on the door makes me jump. Reaper walks in with Agent McCreary behind him.

“Walter,” I greet with a tight smile.

“Nice to see you again, Mr. Abbott.”

He looks at Patrick hanging from the chains and smiles. “That’s a good place for him.”

“Thank you, again, for all your help in the matter,” I say, wiping my hands off on a towel hanging on the wall.

“My pleasure. I was happy to let the bureau know that we were unable to locate Patrick. I will also be happy to let them know when his body is found burnt to a crisp inside of his little shop. He really should have been more careful when he was welding. The investigation will be open and closed.”

Who would have known that the agent that caused so much grief was actually a paid associate of Reaper’s? Sure as fuck not me. When he first came in the first night I was here, I almost killed him. I would have, too, especially if I would’ve had a pistol on me. Good thing I didn’t because he’s turned out to be a very valuable asset.

Having a fed on our side, working underneath the table for the greater good? It’s fucking perfect. And with the way that he conducts himself, no one would ever guess that he is working for us. No way I would have ever seen it, either. Even with he and his wife showing up at the engagement party, I still didn’t see it. I was pissed that Reaper was working with a fed’s wife and it wasn’t until the first night that we had Patrick here that I put it together and realized why they were there to begin with. Reaper and I haven’t had a chance to talk about it, but I’m curious which relationship began first, Walter or his wife.

A low whine sounds from Patrick and I punch him in the chest, unable to stand the sounds he makes any longer. I should just kill him but that would be too merciful. And the last thing this sick bastard deserves is mercy. Death is too quick a feat for all the sins he has committed and the pain he has caused, not only to my girl but to every single human that he’s ever had any involvement with as far as the transport, hiding, or exchange inside of this ring that he was so entrenched in.

I kill the lights in the shop and close and lock the door, leaving Patrick to suffer alone and in silence, something that he likely never gave Bristol. Reaper and Walter are sitting at the dining room table in Reaper’s plantation house, sipping scotch from rocks glasses and smoking cigars like the ritzy fucking people they are.

There’s an empty glass next to Reaper with an empty seat just for me. I sit down and Reaper pours me a finger, sliding the glass to me. I find that measurement oddly appropriate. It’s odd seeing Walter outside of a suit and tie but being dressed down in khaki shorts and a polo shirt. I guess I can call him Walter now. If I can’t, I don’t know what to tell him. We’re on a first name fucking basis.

“Did you burn him?” Walter asks.

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do to him until a few months ago when I got burned pretty bad in an explosion trying to locate him. It wasn’t until I went through weeks of torture having my burns cleaned and scraped every single day that I decided that was what I was going to do to him.”

“Well that’s symbolic, isn’t it?”

“Seemed fitting. So, does anyone else in the club know about this little union?” I ask, signaling between Reaper and Walter.

Reaper shakes his head. “Nah. I didn’t see a reason in filling anyone in. It’s new, so Walter’s still in a probationary period.”

I chuckle and dip a finger into my glass, swirling the scotch around. “Probationary?”

“Yeah, Reaper is still making sure I’m a do the right thing kind of guy and I’m still making sure he isn’t going to kill me and put me in his torture chamber.”

Walter’s words hold no amusement. Good.

“So you’re learning that the possibilities are endless then, yes?”

Walter nods. “Seems to be so.”

“He’s good people. If Mack hadn’t have vouched for him, though, we wouldn’t be sitting here. And we wouldn’t have gotten our hands on Patrick so quickly, either. Walter located him. Single-handedly.”

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