Page 166 of Never Fall for an Angel

“Got a set of fucking pipes on him, doesn’t he?” Levi asks, stepping down into the bunker. “Fucker could break the sound barrier. Guess they don’t call him Screamin’ Pete for nothing.”

I shoot Levi a look and let out a breath through my teeth.

One . . . Two . . . Three . . .

“Help!”

Alright, I’ve had enough.

My fist connecting with “Screamin’ Pete’s” jaw is what finally shuts him up.

Thank fucking God.

“Jesus H Christ,” Levi admonishes, stepping forward to check Pete’s pulse. “You fucking knocked him out.”

I shrug, cracking my bruised knuckles.

“He was giving me a headache.”

Levi chuckles, scrubbing a hand over his dark hair. “And what about this one? He looks like he’s about to piss himself.” Levi stops, sniffing the air. “Nevermind. It’s shit.”

“He’s crying,” I murmur, stepping up to the table at the back of the room. There are a number of instruments lining the top, and I search for the one I want. When I grab it and turn around, Dave, Screaming Pete’s pal, breaks down in sobs. “Funny enough, you were laughing the last time you saw this.”

Dave’s eyes clench shut, as if I’m the boogeyman, and I’ll disappear if I close my eyes.

Unfortunately, I’ve met therealboogeyman.

He’s kind of a dick.

“What the fuck is that?” Levi asks when I step up to the man with the collar in my hand.

“Heretic’s fork,” I reply, casually wrapping the leather strap around my finger. There’s a set of prongs on each side,sharpened to small daggers that dig into the flesh under the chin and on the sternum if the wearer moves.

Pretty medieval to me, but hey, Dave likes to use it on teenage boys, so.

“You are one fucked up bastard, you know that Dave?” Levi asks, smacking him on the back, and I chuckle. I guess, sometimes, my brother is pretty funny, even if I want to shoot him most of the time.

“Alright, Dave,” I start, nodding to Levi to remove the gag in his mouth. “Your turn. What do you know about this?” I hold the flashdrive up in front of him, but the single fucking second Levi removes the gag, Dave screams bloody murder.

“Help!” he bellows, his face beat red and his eyes filled with tears. “Somebody, please!”

“Jesus Christ,” I let out a sigh. “Do any of you know how to speak?” I gesture back to Pete. “You want what he’s having?”

“Help me!”

My patience is wearing thin.

And that’s fucking saying something.

In a flash, my hand comes out, wrapping around Dave’s throat and squeezing until he shuts the fuck up.

Finally. Silence.

“Are you done?”

Dave trembles under my hand, his skin slick with sweat.

“Levi’s right. You do smell like shit.”

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