Page 112 of Filthy Savage

Arriving at her mother’s house, I park across the street, spotting two vehicles in the driveway.

The bitch is home. Which is a good thing. She’s gonna tell me exactly what she did to Amara’s dog.

Retrieving my gun from the glove compartment, I slip it into the holster at my waist as I climb out. She’ll give me answers one way or another…or she’ll find herself swimming in the ocean.

Crossing the street, I head for the door, knocking lightly. Shooting my way through didn’t feel like a smart plan. Though it was quite tempting.

When she opens the door, she smiles flirtatiously, her teeth as yellow as a lion’s ass. “Hi there. What can I do for you, handsome?”

“Who’s that?” a man’s gruff tone rings behind her until he appears.

Removing my nine, I point it at him. “Get the fuck inside. Both of you.”

She gasps, while the man’s eyes grow with fear. When he slowly starts to move his hand into his pocket, I fire a shot, the silencer on. The bullet rips through his hand, and when he screams in agony, I shove them inside and lock the door.

“That was just a warning.” I lean against the wall, aiming the weapon at him. “Now shut the fuck up before I put a bullet in your throat.”

He pants, grinding his teeth and cradling his bleeding hand.

“P-p-please,” she begs, “I don’t have any money.”

“I don’t want your fucking money.” I trail closer, smelling the stench of something sour coming from the house.

This is how she lived? Fuck. I would’ve gotten her out of this hell if I knew. If she’d told me.

Damn it, baby. Why didn’t you tell me?

“Sit the fuck down, Desdemona.”

I don’t miss the way her entire face twists with shock at the mention of her name.

“Who…who are you? Wha-wha-what do you want?” she whispers while the prick tries not to make a sound, body shaky with obvious pain.

“You have thirty seconds to tell me what you did to Amara’s dog. Or your boyfriend bleeds out.”

“Amara?” She snickers. “That’s what this is about?”

I push the barrel under her jaw. “You want a bullet that badly?”

Before she lets out her next laugh, I fire one into her foot.

“Ahh! Fuck! You psycho!” Her scream only fills me with irritation.

“Tell me. What the hell did you do to Max?” I dig the barrel into her temple.

“Okay, okay,” she cries, wincing as she tries to sit. “I—I sold him.”

I’m gonna kill her.

My fist balls at my side. “To who?!”

She shrinks back from my barbaric tone. “Xander, okay? Xander, her ex. Please, please don’t kill me!”

That son of a…

“Why him?”

“I—I—I owed him money and hi-hi-his cousin wanted a dog, so he arranged for him to pick up Max while Xander and Amara were g-g-gone.”

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