Page 80 of Sinful Beauty

“Easy or hard?” I repeat.

If this guy has training, he’s lacking. He loses consciousness in my grip.

I set him down in the chair, pull out the Kevlar cord, and tie him to the chair at the waist and tie his ankles to the chair. I want his hands free.

He shouldn’t be out long, but because I don’t have time, I pick up a ceramic mug and toss whatever’s in it on him. He blinks and as he comes to, the chair shifts from his jerking as he tests out his legs and body.

“Who are you?” He grumbles.

Tsk. “I ask the questions. And I told you, hands flat on the table.”

Like a good soldier, he places his hands flat on the table. I pull out my knife.

“You’ve got ten fingers. That means you have ten chances. That’s a lot of chances, my friend.” I pull out my blade and his eyes widen in understanding.

“Now, this morning, you picked up Lucia Oliviera. Yes?”

“I don’t know nothing.”

What a fucking dimwit.The wickedly sharp blade slices off his pinky fingers with ease. He screams and blood shoots out in a spurt across the round table.

“Nine more to go.”

He lifts his hand and presses it into his chest.

Tsk. Tsk.

“Hands flat on the table. Trust me. There are other body parts I can remove, and wise men prefer the fingers.”

“Who the fuck are you?” A bead of sweat appears on his temple.

“I’m a gentleman you wish to please. You’re going to answer my questions if you want to walk out of this room. I don’t count toes. After the fingers, I go for legs.”

He screams loudly for his buddy.

“Do you seriously believe your friend can help you?”

He stops yelling. I assume it’s because it has occurred to him that his out-of-shape friend won’t be of any help, but he might have also just remembered his friend is hard of hearing.

“I’ll ask one more time. It’s a yes or no question and I already know the answer. I have video. So, I’d think twice before losing a finger over this one.” He glares and my rage simmers. “You picked up Lucia Oliviera this morning, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you bring her?”

“Here.”

“Where is she now?”

“I don’t know.” I shift and he stutters, “Seriously. I don’t know. I’m telling you the truth. We transferred her to another car. Another driver took her.”

“In the trunk?”

His gaze shifts from my face to my blade. He jerks his head in a nod. The light glimmers on the blade and he adds, “Yes, in a trunk. We drugged her. She was out of it. Only put her in the trunk so she wouldn’t be seen.”

“Who is we?”

He grimaces, lips pressed together. I step forward and press the blade down, taking his index finger and part of his middle finger.

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