Page 102 of Protector

He nodded with a thoughtful look on his face, no doubt taking in the brand on my hip, along with the details of what I knew, to try to work them out in a way that made sense.

I wasn’t going to waste a second worrying about what he thought he knew.

We’d found Hawk.

* * *

Hawk spat out a mouthful of blood before grinning up at me with red-stained teeth. “You called out Cobra for refusin’ to get his hands dirty, but look at you; sittin’ back while your muscle does all the work. What’s wrong, Celia? Afraid you’ll chip a fingernail?”

I grinned back, all while grinding my teeth down into the gum tissue. “I thought maybe we could talk while Carnage here pays you back for kneeing him in the groin. You know, tit for tat.”

“Tits, huh? Do you still feel my teeth on yours? God, your flesh was so soft, I could’ve ripped you apart using just my mouth.”

Your enemy will try to bait you into doing somethin’ stupid. It could be they want you distracted while they make their move or, if they know they’ve been beat, they’ll use it in the hopes of gettin’ a quick death.

I drew strength from Jamie’s words, refusing to let Hawk get under my skin.

Carnage drove a fist into Hawk’s stomach, and he let out a sharp burst of air before chuckling again. “Carnage, is it? If you ever get tired of babysittin’ bitches instead of doin’ real work, you oughta get a go at her cunt. Fuckin’ tight as hell, well, at least she was before I got her good and wet. Ain’t that right, Celia?”

I sucked in a quick breath just as Carnage roared, “I volunteered for this position, asshole! You don’t fuckin’ look at her… you don’t fuckin’ talk to her unless you’re ready to give up Cobra.”

After transporting Hawk to the storage facility and retrieving the club tattoo he’d wanted so badly to cover up, Jamie had turned him over to me.

“Where’s Cobra?” I asked, retrieving the small rectangular contraption from a table.

“The fuck do you care where he is? He ain’t the one in charge anymore. Carnage, my man, if you’re not into fuckin’ her cunt, go for the throat. None of that half-assed bullshit either, no sir. All the way down, until she’s fightin’ for air—”

Carnage reared back and head-butted Hawk’s face with such force that even I winced. “Gave you a warnin’. You should’ve listened.”

It was obvious the impact had broken his nose with the way he was violently struggling against the ropes, trying to catch his breath. Blood ran in streams over his lips, but it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

Killing Manny hadn’t brought me anything other than an urge to kill again. In the beginning, I’d sought forgiveness and a way to piece myself back together. Now, I knew better. There was no magic button I could press to undo the trauma my body had endured; no way to wipe it from my memory.

It didn’t mean I was going to stop, though.

I wasn’t going to rest until every last one of them was in the ground.

“You know, in medieval Europe, they used these.” I held up the device. “The thumbscrew. Apparently, they were highly effective in obtaining confessions.”

Hawk stayed silent as I moved behind his back, slipping the fingers of his right hand between the metal plates. It was only fitting that the hand he’d used to batter me would be the first one I maimed.

“So, once the fingers are inside, you just alternate tightening the screws on either side. Like this.” I demonstrated before stepping back. “Where’s Cobra?”

He stared straight ahead as if I hadn’t said a word. I twisted each screw another turn and tried again. “Tell me where he is, and this can all be over.”

Carnage watched with rapt attention as I turned the screws, tightening until the bones of Hawk’s fingers cracked audibly between the plates, and he cried out.

“Fuck! You want a confession?” he screamed. “Here’s your fuckin’ confession! Cobra don’t mean shit. He answers to Saint… sooner or later, we all answer to Saint!”

“Who is Saint? Where can we find him?”

He laughed, and his lip split open again, sending a river of blood down the side of his mouth. “Find him? You don’t find him… he finds you.”

I calmly reached for my trench knife and held the tip of the blade to his throat. “Tell me where he is.”

“This time, it ain’t about Grey. Death is comin’ for you.” There was no time to react before he jerked his head forward, impaling himself on the sharp blade with a choked gurgle.

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