Page 59 of Overcast

“Fuck you,”Hollis spits, blood flying from his mouth through a grunt. Fuck me—yep. It’s been one of the most infuriating and frustrating jobs I’ve ever had. And the most personal since I offed Wade’s wife years ago.

But I won’t lie, it was beyond satisfying to cut that bitch up. For petty and pissed off purposes, I swing my Louisville slugger again, connecting with Hollis’s kneecap. A pitiful holler spews from his lips as he cowers over, the chains around his wrists keeping him still somewhat upright.

I don’t steal a glance at Stormi, allowing her to catch the full effect of how serious I am. How ruthless I can get when I’m impatient, which is way past its limit.

I’ve been too easy on her. It pricks and prods at my skin that I’m letting her tweak the way I usually do things. By now, she’d be arm or fingerless. I’d have her half-dead muttering for me to put her out of her misery.

Fuck that, I don’t keep people around for that long.

Take Demi, Wade’s ex-wife, for instance. She was a full-blown psycho who could lure any man into doing anything she wanted. Hell, she played good ‘ole Wade for years until B723 caught wind of her bullshit.

We warned her to stay away from Wade and my sister after she set Mama’s house on fire. I remained on standby—ordered to wait by my commander—while Demi continued to plot and plan her next move.

Then she did. And I moved quickly and not in a friendly or civil way.

Pacing over to Stormi’s father, his face is bloody and bruised from my men’s constant questioning. He pleads the fifth, but this isn’t a democracy. It’s hell that I built and led.

I hear the shuffling of feet behind me, aware of who is slowly approaching, and I don’t want to see her.

“Take another step, sweetheart,” I warn, keeping her at my back. “And I’m not going to stop when I start.”

She halts as her dad glares at me through one eye. The other is snapped shut. “Who hired you?” “Listen,” he starts. “I told your little buddies the same thing. I’m not in the killing business. I gamble, drink, and fuck.” I heave the end of my bat into his stomach before he angles forward, his chains binding him upright from the ceiling.

“I don’t believe you.” Actually, I kind of do. This man couldn’t run half a block, let alone kill someone and escape without getting caught. He’s overweight, like Hollis but older. He has to have at least a decade or more over his buddy at his right and is out of breath just from standing.

“Dad,” Stormi calls out to him. “Are you sure?”

“Keep your mouth shut, girl,” he snaps before looking up at me. “Even if I did, this little prick wouldn’t make me talk.”

Really?

I sweep around my waist and yank out my Glock then shoot. The top of his foot makes my mark, and he hollers so loud that I take a step back to keep from getting my eardrums blown out.

I may have heard Stormi cries somewhere in there too, but it only heightens my desire to do more.

This is the first time I’ve had leverage on someone, like their family member, to sway them into speaking. I don’t know what she thought I was going to do with him, only asked me twice where he was, but here we are.

And she can experience, firsthand, what I actually do when I’m not fascinated with my victims. I’m tired of this merry-go-innocent bullshit that she’s trying to feed me. My patience reached it’s limit days ago, and this all ends now.

“Do you want me to slit your throat in front of your daughter next?” I taunt. Just like his own flesh and blood, he says nothing to me. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, after all.

I holster back my gun before pulling out a six-inch blade that I carry with me. It won’t do much with one swipe, but shanking would do the trick.

“This was the knife,” I proclaim. “That I stabbed your daughter with.” My eyes flick to him. “Probably should keep it in the family.”

“You’re a bitch for stabbing women,” he carps out. “ A boy who needs to make himself feel like a man by holding men and a woman hostage because you think we did something. Did your Mommy not love you?”

She did—both of them—and their both dead now. I push my lips out and bob my head, keeping the small amount of composure I have at the forefront of my brain. “Says the bitches who tried drowning one.”

“I didn’t drown the slut!” “Please don’t—” That coming from Stormi, but I’ve already shoved the knife into his stomach and out. Then back in and out again.

I want to tell him that the slut he’s referring to is my fucking sister, but refrain it from leaving my lips.

He might not know shit, but it doesn’t mean that he and Hollis haven’t spoken about it.

A fist slams into my shoulder blade once before I pivot around to see a teary-eyed Stormi standing behind me. Her eyes are bloodshot as tears hit her high cheekbones.

She looks beautiful as fuck at this moment—vulnerable. The best emotion to tear out of someone when you need something.

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