Page 107 of Devil's Due

My balls seem to shrivel in sympathy. Worse pain a man can go through. If Fucker’s cock could shrink anymore, I think it probably would. It’s trying to make itself even less of a target.

“Start talking,” Stinger snaps.

“I, I… can’t.”

I suppose you have to admire his loyalty. Brake steps forward and starts an upward swing aimed straight through the V formed by his legs, then brings the mallet back down. “Just getting the right angle,” he explains. “Need to get it just right. Course, I may pop one of the fuckers if I’m not careful. Hey, one of Fucker’s fuckers. It’s almost worth it to be able to say that.”

Fucker’s eyes are wild. He’s looking around each of us, wanting to see sympathy. Well, that he might find, the kindred of men who know just what terrible pain to expect, but he doesn’t find any for him.

Brake looks like he means business this time. He grabs the mallet with both hands taking a firm hold.

“I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you.”

Stinger stays Brake’s movement. “Everything?”

With tears rolling down his face, Fucker nods.

If he doesn’t spill everything fast enough, I’ll be taking that mallet off Brake.

Suddenly Stinger does what I wanted to do. He lurches forward and tugs the mallet out of Brake’s hands and starts a swing which is certain to end in agony.

“I’ll tell you everything!” Fucker screams before it hits him.

Stinger eases the arc but still makes contact. I wince as Fucker unsuccessfully tries to curl up. Screams of pain fly out of his mouth and tears start rolling down his face. I see his stomach muscles clench, and his balls seem larger than they were a moment before.

Without giving him time to recover, Stinger threatens him with the mallet again. “Next time I’ll do it properly. Now what about the blind bitch, where’s she being held?”

His eyes meet all of ours, then his chin drops against a chest which is still heaving. “A house on fourth,” Fucker rasps out, each word punctuated by an intake of breath. It might only have been a tap compared to what Stinger could have done, but he’s finding it hard getting air. “That’s where they were planning to take her.”

I note he didn’t even try to deny he knew who we were talking about, and that they had her.

Stinger considers for a moment, like me, probably weighing up whether he’s told us the truth, and coming down on the side that in all likelihood he has. “Get him down and dressed. Fucker can take us there.”

Losing interest in the tortured man, the Wretched Soulz prez comes back to me and the rest of the interested group watching his technique.

“Quickest way to get the info.” He nods at me. “Show him what’s he in for, then fire the question you want answered. Now, do you want to go find your woman, Beef?”

He doesn’t wait for my answer. It’s obvious. I might not have been able to lay hands on Fucker, but I will on any man who’s dared touch a hair on my woman’s head.

I’ve no sympathy for the man who’s struggling to get dressed, gingerly tucking his family jewels into a baggy pair of sweats that’s been found to replace his jeans and struggling into a plain borrowed tee. Brake shows no compassion as he hurries him up, then, after zip-tying his hands behind him, none too gently pushes him out of the shed and into the sun.

The rest of us follow. The sun is hot, but less stifling than the shed we’ve just been in, and I eagerly breathe in the fresh air. My whole focus is on getting to Stevie, and luckily no one seems to want to waste time.

Could I have gotten the information quicker and saved precious moments?Unlikely. In the state I’m in I’d have had more of a bull in a china shop approach. Wraith was right. A man can’t talk around a broken jaw and can be hard to understand when he’s missing his teeth. I’ve learned a thing today about mental torture being a useful tool. Maybe I’ll suggest it to Mace when I get back to base.

Why Mace?Why wasn’t my first thought Blade? I’ve known him far longer.

“You okay, Brother?”

I give Thunder a look that pointedly asks,what do you think?I’ll only be alright once Stevie’s back in my arms and I know she’s unharmed.

As we walk, he places his hand on my back which feels naked without my cut. A silent gesture of support. No need for more words.

Drummer and Wraith are walking ahead with the Wretched Soulz prezes and VPs. All following a man who looks like he knows death isn’t far away, being dragged along by the enforcer. Fucker will co-operate to try to prevent it, but I’m doubtful his life will be measured by anything more than hours.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

The house Fucker takes us to looks run down and uncared for, but basically sound. The neighbourhood around matches. As we drive by slowly, I take in a man bent over a beat-up car, attracted by the engine noise. He stands and yawns widely, the state of his teeth showing me he’s clearly a meth addict.

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