Page 55 of Redemption

Axel

“Jesus, how much do these feckers weigh?” Rory groans as both he and I carry an unconscious Carrick to a wooden chair that’s sitting in the center of an abandoned warehouse on the other side of town that they “use”.

“Stop your bitching. You got the lighter fella.” Connor grunts while he, Asher, and Zane bring in the other guy we found him with.

“Feck off.” Rory shakes his head as we prop him down into a seated position. My brothers and Connor strap the other guy down to a metal table, but I don’t give much thought to what else they’ve got planned because I have my own shit to handle.

“Here.” Zane tosses us some rope from the bag he brought in and I get to work binding his wrists to the arms of the chair, while Rory does the same to his legs.

Once I’m sure he’s secure and not going anywhere, I stand back and look for my toy of choice. My gaze travels along the walls and there are nothing but options. This room is like a serial killer’s wet dream. Anything I can think of to torture the truth out of him is at my disposal.

“What’ll it be, Ax?” Asher hangs back, letting me know without words that I’m running the show with whatever device of my choosing. A glisten of metal catches my attention and a smile spreads across my face as I pick up the hammer and box of nails from the shelf.

“Interesting choice.” Asher’s dark eyebrows raise as he eyes my hands, but the corner of his mouth twitches.

“It’s not my bat, but it’ll do.” I hang the hammer over my shoulder and make to move toward Carrick, but I’m stopped short by Rory. He’s a few cans shy of a six pack.

He pinches his cigarette between his lips and messes with his phone, hooking it up to a playing doc, until “Beautiful Day” by U2 blares through the room. “That’s better.”

“Seriously?” I cock an eyebrow at him as I study his face. I’m not sure if he’s fucking with me or not.

“What? They’re talented Irish bastards.” He shrugs and flashes me a wide smirk that says the engine is running but there’s no one behind the wheel.

“Whatever, man.” I shake my head as he inhales a deep breath, closes his eyes, and tilts his head back. I wait for him to move, but he doesn’t. It’s like he’s lost in a trance.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Asher puffs out his chest next to me, no doubt getting ready to blow his top at this. Unless it’s for his girls, he has the patience of a gnat.

We like to get in, fuck shit up, and get out without making a sound. Not the Donnelly boys. They’re as stealthy as dropping a bomb in a damn library.

“Is he meditating?” Zane cranes his head to the side and strokes the tip of his beard, looking as lost as the rest of us at Rory’s behavior.

“It helps him.” Connor shrugs as we continue to watch his brother do whatever the fuck it is he’s doing.

A few more beats pass by before Rory finally opens his eyes and there’s no missing the dark glaze that’s taken over. He cracks his neck from side to side like a boxer and shakes out his hands as he bounces on his feet. “It feels like Thanksgiving. Let’s carve up this fecking turkey.” He pulls a knife out of the waistband of his jeans as he and Connor retreat to their side of the room to do their thing.

My brothers and I stalk over to where Carrick is strapped to the chair. I slap his cheek, but he doesn’t even stir. “Damn. Fucker’s out cold.”

“Not for long.” Asher tosses a bucket of water on sleeping beauty and judging by the way he jerks his head up, it must be cold as fuck. His blue eyes burn into mine as he takes slow shallow breaths. I’m going to enjoy watching this fucker break.

“You?” His dark eyebrows pull together as he lets out a hollow laugh. That only fuels my fire.

Whistling to myself, I take out a nail from the box and then turn my glare back on Carrick.

“How original.” Carrick shakes his head at me, but there’s no missing the bead of sweat glistening against the bald skin of his head.

Without warning, I smack him upside the head with my fist. “That’s for Willie Mae.”

“Who?” His eyes narrow at me as blood drips down his chin.

“My truck you stupid fuck.” When I’m met with silence I bring the hammer down on his hand without warning. He squeals like the pussy he is and it feeds my soul, but it’s not enough.

I nod with my chin at Asher and Zane. They know exactly what I’m asking without words. We’ve perfected this move like a well timed song and dance. Zane stands behind Carrick, while Asher puts his hands on the bald prick’s shoulders, giving them a good squeeze.

“Feck ye! Ye fecking pussy!” Carrick struggles against Asher’s hold, but it’s pointless. He ain’t going anywhere. Asher has a death grip on him.

I press the tip of the nail against his smashed hand and place the head of the hammer on top before looking him in the eye. “You know why you’re here. So, save us all some time and just tell me what I want to know.”

“I’m not telling ye shit.” Carrick’s nostrils flare as a vein on the side of his head pulses.

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