Page 60 of Bullet

After the night I'd had with Dixyn, I felt on top of the world. Claiming her raw like I had out in the desert was one for the books. There was a connection between us I couldn't explain, and I wanted as much as I could get of her, no matter the consequences. And that was bad. Very, very bad.

The cartel asshole we had tied up in the warehouse still hadn't broken yet, and my patience was wearing thin. I'd already cut off three fingers, and he still wasn't talking.

I went to the warehouse after dropping Dixyn off, determined to make the motherfucker talk. After claiming her like I had, I owed it to her to protect her. I wasn't planning on leaving until I got answers.

Trey was reading a motorcycle magazine with his feet propped up on a metal table. He stood as I approached. “He say anything?”

My prospect shook his head. “Stubborn wetback.”

My lips curled in anger as I walked over to the cartel prick. It'd been six days, and while I enjoyed torturing the fuck, I preferred getting answers.

He had his head hung, no doubt exhausted and drained. I grabbed the hand I'd cut the fingers off of, and he groaned in pain.

He cursed at me in Spanish as I observed, “This looks pretty bad. Probably infected. You should see a doctor.”

“Then let me go,” he gritted out. He looked like hell—greasy hair, bags under his eyes, skin caked with dried blood and dirt. We'd only been giving him water and bread every other day to help wear him down and hadn't let him shower.

I squeezed his hand tightly before dropping it. “I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, but you're not leaving until you talk. This is all a result of your choice, and you have the power to make it stop.”

He didn't respond. I started to pace back and forth in front of him as I stated, “I think I'm gonna start on the other hand today. Balance you out a little bit.”

I pulled my knife from my side and held it out. His eyes widened as he pleaded, “No,por favor, no.”

Tears started dripping down his cheeks, but it did nothing for me. My mom's abusive boyfriends had beaten whatever goodness and empathy I had out of me a long time ago. “Trey, come over here and hold him steady.”

The man started to thrash around. “No! No, no, no!”

Trey didn't hesitate. One thing I really liked about my prospect was that he didn't ask questions or get squeamish when it came down to business.

Once Trey had the cartel scum's hand secured on the table, I got my knife in place. “Last chance. Have anything you want to share?”

He groaned in pain. I could see the anguish on his face. He wanted to talk, but he was too scared of Matteo.

The door opened, and I turned to see Dead Man enter. My brows furrowed from the interruption. “This better be good.”

He grinned widely. “Oh, it is.”

I pulled my knife back as Dead Man walked over to me and handed me a folder. I opened it and started flipping through pictures of a Mexican woman and four young kids, along with a list of addresses. “What am I looking at?”

“I dug up the information you wanted on this motherfucker. Found out some interesting information.”

Our captive tensed as Dead Man continued, “Turns out that Carlos here has a wife and four kids just outside Mexicali.”

A sinister smirk curved my lips as I made eye contact with Carlos. “Oh, really?”

His face hardened as he snarled, “Don't you dare,puto. I'll kill you.”

I chuckled. “You're not really in the position to be making threats now, are you?”

He started yelling in Spanish as I took out the picture of the woman and held it up so he could see. “She's pretty. Wonder why she's with an ugly motherfucker like you.”

His breathing was so labored and fast that I could hear it from where I was standing several feet away. I took out the picture of four children playing outside, and his eyes went wide.

“How far did you say this was, brother?”

Dead Man shrugged. “About a four-hour ride, give or take.”

“So we could have the prospect go pick them up in the van and have them back here by tonight?” I asked, trying to get Carlos to break.

---