Page 81 of With This Ring

He looks at the one with the shitty tattoo on his neck. “Found him first. Didn’t take much. All Gavin had to do was hang out at the right nightclub. Then he snitched on the other two.”

The other blond man and the man with the black hair glare at their friend. The snitch breaks down, tears streaking down his face. The sight is like the sweetest fucking ambrosia. I love it when they cry and beg. Makes the torture more fun.

I walk around the chairs, trying to decide which one I want to kill first. The one with the pockmarked face. He’s the one that looped his arm through mine first. He led me to the other man that dragged me outside.

With that decided, I walk over to the roll of knives Manuel laid out for me. He leans against the wall, glaring at the men in the chairs.

“You know,” I say to my audience, “I almost forgot about you asshats. I had bigger fish to fry. But my husband didn’t forget.” I select a butcher’s knife, turning it this way and that, watching it glint off the light overhead. “You fucked with what belongs to him.”

I turn around to see all three men exchange terrified glances. Black Hair swallows thickly. “What are you going to do?”

The look on my face must answer his question because the two blond haired men start to cry. But I answer anyway. “I’m not letting you leave here alive. You were on borrowed time when you grabbed me at the club.”

Strangled cries and shouts from the men crop up in the room. I close my eyes, breathing in as their despair burrows deep inside me. Fuck yes. This is exactly what I need.

Before I get started, I flip the knife over and give it to Carter. “Want to take Lover Boy?”

He grins down at me, then kisses me hard. “Don’t mind if I do. I actually have something. I told you torture is more my thing. Manuel, the bottle.”

Manuel hands Carter a bottle with green liquid in it. I want to ask what it is, but I like Carter’s surprises.

Carter steps up to the man with the trash tattoo on his neck. The man tries to lean away, trying to escape the sharp blade that Carter is holding, but it’s no use. They’re tied down tight with no means of escape.

Grabbing his hair, Carter pulls his head back and trails the knife down his throat, then to his chest. As he drags the knife down, he applies more pressure until the skin splits. Lover Boy thrashes, his body quaking as blood pours from his wounds. Then he makes three or four more cuts like this, not deep, but long.

“There,” Carter says, almost soothingly. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” The man looks up at Carter as if he’s lost his fucking mind.

Carter hands me the knife, then turns back to the man and sprays him with the liquid from the bottle. The man is silent for a few beats, then he screams behind the tape, his eyes bulging as he tries to wiggle out of the chair. Carter sprays him more, making tears leak from the man’s eyes. The smell of the liquid reaches me, and I laugh hard enough for a few tears to stream down my face.

Rubbing alcohol.

Over and over, Carter makes cut after cut, then douses the man with rubbing alcohol. The man screams so hard and for so long, his eyes look to be protruding permanently. Then he starts coughing hard. Fluid oozes from around his tape and I know he’s vomited.

Carter sighs, kicking the man over in the chair. “Figured he could take more before he threw up.” Then he pulls out his gun and shoots him three times in the chest. After wheezing for a few seconds, the man goes quiet and still.

The two men left alive scream and look sick, though only Black Hair can be heard. “Enough,” Manuel says, walking over to uppercut Black Hair so hard he flies back against the opposite wall, unconscious.

Flicking the knife in my hand, I walk over to the only conscious man. He looks at me fearfully, as if his life is flashing before his eyes. “Tell me,” I taunt, tapping the knife against his forehead, “was it worth it? I had what? Three hundred bucks in my wallet? Was it worth your life?”

He shakes his head, tears leaking down his face. I jab forward and pierce the left side of his chest, then twist. He wheezes behind the tape on his mouth, his gaze flicking up to mine.

I remove the knife, stepping back before blood can splash on me. “The three of you beat my ass for three hundred dollars. Bet you didn’t think your bullshit would come back to bite you in the ass, huh?”

With a quick flick of my wrist, I make a slice across his face so deep that I can see his teeth before blood gushes from the wound. Now that some of the tape is cut through, his screams become audible.

When I get behind him, I grab his forehead to expose his throat, then drag my knife from ear to ear. He quivers, then goes still as he bleeds out.

I look up at Carter and pass him the knife. He grins and takes it, then pulls me into his arms. “Fuck, Kai. Watching you work is such a fucking turn on.” His hard dick presses into my thigh and I shudder. “When I get you home?—”

“Why wait until we get home?”

Manuel makes a noise between a chuckle and a groan in the back of his throat. “I think that’s my cue to leave. You two can handle one man on your own.” He makes his exit as Carter cups my face and kisses me. “Hurry up and take care of him so I can suck you off.”

An involuntary groan leaves my throat.

Turning to Black Hair, I see he’s just started to stir, making pitiful whining noises. “Please,” he whispers. “I’ll leave town. I won’t tell anyone what happened.” His words are garbled, so I’m guessing Manuel broke his jaw. “I’m sorry, man. We just wanted money for coke.”

“Was the coke worth it? Did you get a good high?” Carter asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Black Hair shakes his head miserably. “Didn’t think so. You fucked with one of my possessions. I don’t take kindly to that.”

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