Page 87 of Alfie: Part Two

He shook his head. “You see his hands more clearly in the video, and he has a small birthmark near his thumb.”

Right. I remembered I’d seen them. He’d grabbed hold of her…

Nausea crawled up thickly in my throat, and I couldn’t move for a moment. Two months of waiting, and now the moment had arrived. I heard muffled sounds from them, so they must be gagged underneath those bags too. Arms tied behind their backs, legs tied to the chairs. They couldn’t so much as move their feet.

“What do they do when they’re not out violating women?” I asked dully.

Finn blew out a breath. “They work for the same delivery company. Luka was born here, but Jakov came with his parents from Croatia as a kid. Mother’s from Croatia, father from Russia. Both are now dead. Luka’s folks are alive but retired and moved to Arizona. They’re thirty-seven and forty years old. Luka’s criminal record is more impressive than Jakov’s. Mostly theft and traffic violations.”

“Boss, I have service again,” Bran said.

Finn turned around and headed for the kitchen. “Aight, call Ford and see how close he is. He should be here now.”

I wanted to hear them talk. I walked?—

“Oi.”

I glanced back at Finn, and he held up a duffel bag.

“Don’t get any wounds, and try not to break the plastic,” he told me. “I hope you’re not attached to your shoes and clothes either.”

What? Oh. Leave no traces behind…?

“Um.”

“Yeah, we figured you weren’t smart enough to bring extra clothes,” he stated. “Kellan’s bringing some.”

Okay, we could discuss my level of intelligence later. I carefully removed my watch and handed over my personal belongings to Finn.

He let out a low whistle at the sight of the watch.

I accepted the bag—heavybag—and headed into the living room, and I didn’t stop until I stood right in front of the men.

The bag dropped with aclank, and it made me curious to see what was in there.

I wouldn’t be the first to get violent with them. No signs of blood or anything on the plastic, yet their hoodies had bloodstains on them. Their jeans were dirty too. Not to mention their socks. Christ. Had they once been white?

Pigs.

I removed the burlap bags from their heads and came face-to-face with them for the first time.

Luka blinked and squinted up at me. He had a nice shiner.

Jakov had a split lip and a cracked eyebrow.

Duct tape all around their heads.

“Look at’chu ugly cunts, fucking around and findin’ out,” I said. “You guys are so cooked, it ain’t even funny.”

I shifted my gaze to Jakov. The coward had covered most of his face when he’d attacked Mom, and it made me a little glad. At the very least, she didn’t have to see a face in her nightmares.

“You made my mom’s life a living hell,” I said quietly.

He pulled off a weak glare and tried to speak, which obviously didn’t work.

“Have they eaten?” I hollered. ’Cause they were kinda drowsy in their movements. I bent down and unzipped the bag, and holy mother lode of handyman tools. Like, this shit coulda come straight from my dad.

After today, I could tell him they were gone.

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