Page 115 of Barristers & Bones

Drakos clucked his tongue. “Cold, calculated revenge is a terrifying thing, isn’t it? That gives me an idea, let’s keep him in the body fridge here for an hour before we begin playing with him. I remember how hot and cold those fucking cells got at the Ranch.”

A wet stain slowly spread against my father’s boxers. Drakos sniffed disdainfully as he watched the man pee himself. “Those tables always turn at some point, you spineless fucker.”

“Don’t do this. I’ll give you anything you want.” He turned to me. “Luna, don’t let them do this. I’m your father, for fuck’s sake!”

My body jolted when he addressed me directly, but I fisted my hands and walked over to stoop by him. “Do you remember that day?” I asked quietly. He looked up at me blankly, not understanding my question. “The day I told you I knew what you were doing, and asked you to stop taking money for verdicts and favors. Do you remember what you did to me?”

He swallowed, finally understanding. “I was enraged… out of control. You were my child, acting so righteous and makingthreats. I didn’t mean for it to go that far.” Tears gathered in his eyes, but I knew they were for himself and not me.

I studied his face–and the fear there–but felt nothing for this evil, pathetic man. “I begged you to stop, to listen. I screamed and blacked out when you dragged me by my broken arm to your closet, and I pleaded fordaysto be let out.” My voice cracked, but I kept on. “Then I pleaded with God to let me die, to let the pain and the thirst take me because I waseleven fucking years old.”

His pleading expression gave way to fear and frustration. “Are you going to let them torture and kill your ownfatherout of petty revenge? It will eat away at you.”

I stared at him. “You don’t know me. I won’t feel an ounce of regret about your death, and this isn’t about revenge. It’s about justice. I’m going home now, knowing they’ll do what needs to be done.” Roman would understand I couldn’t be a part of what came next. But I fully condoned it. Squeezing his hand, I walked out of the office.

Chapter 38

Roman

Ivan and Xander arrived at the mortuary not long after Luna left with Milo. We planned to use some of Sylvie’s instruments while we worked Montgomery over, and Drakos grinned thoughtfully as he examined a wicked-looking scalpel with Sylvie Spade’s name engraved on it.

I idly wondered how many living people had found themselves in this room tied to a gurney besides Lionel and Monty. The Spade family had some unusual hobbies.

“I can’t lie, Cross. This is going to be fun. You’re a piece of shit and a fucking blight whostillthinks he’s better than anyone else. But this world will be safer without you.”

“You’re all nothing but bottom-feeding trash,” Montgomery spewed as he tried to thrash on the table. “My men will come after you.”

Ivan shook his head. “Your men are dead or incarcerated, you stupid fucktwit. Now it’s your turn.” He hooked forceps into Montgomery’s mouth, pried his teeth open, and stuffed wads of cotton inside as the man spewed garbled insults. Then he slapped a few pieces of duct tape across it. “Now, who wants to go first?”

“Fuck, yes. I will.” Drakos raised his hand and grabbed a stool, then sat and rolled it to the foot of the gurney. He studied Montgomery’s feet for a moment and grimaced. “You havefoot fungus,asshole. I planned to rip your toenails off, but this is disgusting.”

Ivan leaned over to look at the man’s feet, then wrinkled his nose. “Goddamn, you weren’t kidding. Use rubber gloves if you’re set on it. I’d wear a face shield too.”

Drakos sighed dramatically and gloved up. He put a face shield on and grabbed some plyers and a metal bowl. Then he started methodically ripping off Montgomery’s toenails as he sang “Everybody Hurts” byR.E.M.I'd forgotten Drakos had such a good singing voice. He sometimes used to hum or sing under his breath at the Ranch.

He paused every once in a while to savor Montgomery’s pain as the man screamed in agony behind the duct tape, wreathing on the gurney. Drakos threw the last toenail into a bloody steel bowl, then pulled off the stained gloves and threw them in the basin as well.

I stepped to the side of the table and looked down at Montgomery’s face. “My turn.” I picked up a heavy, industrial-grade fire extinguisher. “You broke Luna’s arm–so I’m going to return the favor.” I smashed it hard against Montgomery’s tibia and heard a distinct crunch. Montgomery sobbed and choked around the cotton jammed in his mouth, tears and mucus running down the sides of his face. He didn’t look disdainful or haughty now.

Ivan picked up a cordless nail gun lying on the back counter. “Who keeps a goddamned nail gun in their embalming room?” he asked rhetorically.

Drakos grinned manically. “Sylvie Fucking Spade. That’s who.”

For the first time, Xander moved, straightening off the wall and holding out his hand. “May I?” Ivan nodded and handed the nail gun over.

Xander walked over and stared down, unblinking, at the man on the table. “I heard what you did to Peter.” Montgomery’s terrified, pain-filled eyes seemed confused, but Xander explained. “The day you came to Bitter Creek with your investor friends. I was in the cell beside his. He’d tried to run again, and you said you were there to ‘teach him a lesson.’ I know what you did.”

Montgomery’s face went gray, and he started shaking his head frantically.

Xander leaned over and murmured in his ear, “Te videbo in infero.”

I struggled to translate the Latin phrase, and then it clicked. Xander told Montgomery he’d see him in Hell. If Xander thought he was going to Hell, the rest of us were fucked.

He pressed the nail gun against Montgomery’s crotch and pulled the trigger. Then he moved the nail gun down a few inches and pulled it again. Montgomery’s head flew back, and the tendons in his neck bulged as a muffled, high-pitched screech tore out of him. He hadn’t fully recovered before Xander circled the table and pushed the gun against the backs of Montgomery’s hands, the nails gouging into the metal table. Then Xander laid the nail gun down and backed up.

Drakos patted him on the back, his expression grave for once. “Brutal but brilliant, brother. I think Peter would have approved. We’ve got the rest.” Xander stared at Montgomery Cross, bleeding and struggling on the table, then he nodded and walked out. I had a hazy recollection of Peter; he was one of the boys who hadn’t made it.

Ivan came forward with a scalpel. “And now it’s my turn. I’m going to gut you like a fish and use your intestines to decorate the inside of your casket. This is going to hurt.”

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