Page 98 of Don't Let Go

“I don’t care if you are or not,” I told him then stomped on his right hand as he twitched his fingers toward another weapon at his side.

Now he let out a low-pitched scream. With little regard for his pain or blood loss, I did a quick search of him and removed his weapons before dragging him back toward McCoy’s office.

The downstairs offered limited spaces for discussion. Once I set him on the floor and zip-tied him to McCoy, I headed back out to do a full sweep and clear.

Finding no one else, I tapped my comms.

“You’re late,” she told me tartly and I grinned.

“Couldn’t be helped. Shopping was a bitch.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yep, so it was worth it.” I made my way back to McCoy’s office. “You have any words for these guys?”

A camera on the wall shifted and began to turn slowly. The red light blinked at me once, almost like she was winking and I stepped to the side so she could see into the office.

“That’s Shaggy and Mr. Cold.” Her confirmation was good. I’d already identified them, but it was helpful to be sure.

I gave her a moment to consider her answer. She’d already taken the gloves off and I had plans for these two. That said, ladies first, and she was the one these assholes hurt.

“No,” she said slowly. “They really aren’t worth any last words. They were merely the sadistic tools of their masters. I’d be happy to never think of them again.”

“Anything you want, Sugar Bear.”

“Anything?” Intrigue punched up that word and it wrapped around my dick like she was stroking it. Not the time, I told myself.

“Anything,” I promised.

“Dealer’s choice then,” she said, giving me blanket permission. “But I expect you back here promptly.”

“Copy that.” The soft beep of going silent had me studying the pair who stared up at me. The confusion on McCoy’s face was almost funny. Seward, however, wasn’t similarly open in his reactions.

He clearly knew what was coming.

Good, it saved me time and explanations.

“You don’t know who we are,” McCoy yelled suddenly, trying to lurch forward. Course, the broken arm made such motions excruciating, but couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.

“Don’t care,” I told him.

“You care,” Seward informed me. “You don’t just break into a secure facility and mow your way through people for fun.”

“You misunderstand,” I told Seward as I secured my gun and then dropped the duffle onto the top of the desk. I had lots of fun tools inside of it.

I’d start with the pliers. I checked the pair as I took them out.

“I don’t care who you are. Or were. Because as of five minutes ago, you’re a footnote in someone else’s story, if you even rate that much.”

“What are you talking about?” McCoy demanded.

“He’s not really bright,” I said to Seward. “Is he?”

Seward grimaced.

“That makes you the brains and him just the actual mad dog let off his leash.”

McCoy shrieked something incoherent, spittle flying from his lips. Yeah, he didn’t like being dismissed.

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