Page 64 of Marked

“What the fuck! Let me go!” His feet scramble for purchase as I wrap my arm around his neck, yanking him backward until he loses his footing and falls flat on his ass.

“I am going to fuck you up!” His empty threat dies in the midnight air as I sink the needle into his neck.

Wide, panicked eyes find mine, and he tries to hit my arm away. It’s too late though, the drug’s already in his system. Letting him go, I stand up and move back a step.

He thrashes, tries to get to his feet, to run away, but the drug is already working. Probably could have given him a higher dose; he shouldn’t be this mobile right now, but that’s fine, I can be patient when it’s called for.

“What did…?” His eyes roll, and he folds, his knees hitting the sidewalk before he faceplants right into the cement.

There.

Harley pops the trunk open for me while I gather him off the sidewalk. He’s bigger than Artie was, more muscle, and taller, too. With my arms hooked beneath his, I drag him to the back of my car.

“I can help.” Harley hops out of her seat and grabs his booted feet. “He’s big. Are you sure he’ll fit?” she asks as we get to the trunk.

“Yeah, baby, he’ll fit.” I readjust my grasp. “On three, we’re gonna lift and swing, yeah?”

“Got it.” She gives me a firm nod and reworks her grab on his feet, so she’s got a good grip on him.

“One…two…three!”

We hoist his ass up, then swing him into the trunk. His legs dangle out a bit, but that’s fine. Humans are damn flexible when they’re not awake to fight the pain of being stretched in a new way. I fold his legs in and contort him until he’s stuffed inside.

Once I have his feet bound tight, and his hands tied behind him, I slam the trunk.

“I think you hit him with it.” She winces.

I lift a shoulder. “That’s nothing compared to what’s coming to him.” I gesture with a nod to the car. “Grab his phone and get in. It’s late already.”

She snatches his phone from where it flew off to, then jumps into her side of the car and buckles up.

“Are we going back to the storage unit?” She is almost giddy with the prospect of getting this monster off the streets.

I take his phone from her, cutting off the location services so he can’t be tracked by his GPS.

I hand her the phone and shift into gear.

“There’s a barn about forty-five minutes from here. That will do.”

Vince is a heavy motherfucker, but we got him out of the trunk and onto the dolly so I could drag his ass into the barn.

“I think he’s waking up.” Harley hops off the surgical table and leans down to look up into his face. Slumped over the way he is, it’s hard to get a good look at his eyes.

Fisting his hair in her hand, she yanks his head back and slaps his cheek.

“Yeah, he’s getting there.” She pushes his head back against the head rest. “Do you have some rope in here? We can just tie his head up.”

“Good idea.” I grab a leather belt from a drawer and bring it over to her. She uncurls the belt and straps it around his forehead and buckles it behind the chair. It’s just small enough to hold his head up.

“There.” She smiles at me, resting her hands on his shoulder. “Are his eyes open yet?”

“He’s awake, but he’s trying to keep his eyes closed.” I curl my finger at her, beckoning her to my side. “This is how you know the difference between a man like him and a man like Artie. When Artie came to, he flopped around like fish pulled out of the water. Vince here is fully awake, but he’s pretending to still be out so he can assess his situation.”

“That’s smart,” she says.

“It’s what I would do if I were in his position.” The blade opening on my knife makes his muscles stiffen. Oh yes, he’s very much awake. “Though if he doesn’t open his eyes soon, I’m going to have to stick this knife into his kneecap.”

Harley’s lips curl with anticipation. She wants his blood.

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