Page 93 of Fractured Fear

“I think the appropriate response would be ‘Thanks Rio! That’s so kind of you to think of me while shopping for weapons.’”

“You weren’t shopping for weapons! You were in an old lady’s yard!”

“Shhhh,” he exaggerates the shushing by putting a finger to his lips. “Lower your voice,amigo. You’ll wake our guests before we even have time to show them to their room.”

I shake my head and grab Troy under his armpits to haul him down to the basement.

Adding the basement to the place was not easy. Especially when Asher decided we could do it ourselves because we didn’t need anyone else in our business. I agreed with his reasoning, but I campaigned for buying a warehouse by the docks. We eventually got the warehouse and occasionally use the space tointerrogate, but we still use the basement of our brownstone every now and then.

Now is one of those times.

“Estás gordo, hijo de puta.”

I grunt in agreement with Rio. Troy is too jacked. I’m sure half of his gym time is spent staring at women who don’t want the attention.

When we finally strip them down to their underwear and have them secured to the metal chairs, Rio shoots me a shit eating grin.

This is his domain.

He tosses ice cold water on the sleeping beauties, and they sputter awake.

“What the fuck!” Troy roars as he jerks on the handcuffs that have him strapped to the armrests.

Good thing we soundproofed this baby.

Dustin is still dazed and confused. He looks around, his eyes unfocused. When he tries to stand, he finally becomes aware of his situation.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Rio says with a maniacal smile.

The hairs on Dustin’s arm visibly stand on end. Rio is a pro at putting the fear of God in people. Especially when we need answers.

“Kingston, what the fuck is going on?” Troy barks.

Half of getting information depends on how you approach the suspect. I learned how to interrogate someone on the job, but Rio taught me how to use pain and fear to get the answers faster.

Troy thinks he’s the top dog in the room. Dustin already knows where he stands in the pecking order. The question is, do we break Troy and scare Dustin further or do we just go for Dustin?

I eye Rio quizzically, he turns his eyes to Troy.

Breaking the dickwad it is.

We have done this enough that we don’t need words to communicate here. It’s even more fun with Asher.

I roll up my sleeves, undo my tie, and set it gently on the metal tray next to Rio’s knives, drawing their attention to the sharp, shiny objects.

Oh, how Rio loves his knives.

Then I grab the wood baseball bat and flip it over in my hand a few times.

Cliche? Yes.

Badass? Also, yes.

All of my movements are intentional. We need them to know we mean business. We don’t have time for a drawn out questioning. We need answers. Fast.

“Tell me, Troy. Are you a betting man?” I continue playing with the bat.

“What?”

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