Page 165 of Merciless Obsession
“Wait, what’s Handly’s real name again?” Ziora asked Emmet.
“Tommy Brown.”
“Oh fuck.” She closed her eyes.
“It looks like your wound might be infected,” Lucas mentioned, running his gloved hand over it lightly. I bit the inside of my jaw to stop myself from lashing out at him and smacking his hands off her.
“I know that name,” Ziora stated, ignoring Lucas.
“How?”
Nazai faced her with a raised brow.
“On the police reports. He was always listed as the first on scene.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded with a twisted face. “I might not have a photographic memory like your brother, but I studied everything that has to do with The Veil and these kidnappings a million times. Tommy was always listed as the first cop on scene with the dead girls.”
Nazai stroked his beard. “Makes sense. It’s clear he’s working with The Veil. Emmet, how long has he been a cop?”
Emmet’s hands moved across his keyboard. “Three years. Looking deeper, it looks like most of his money went to liquor and child support. He’s got six kids with four different women.”
“Shit. No wonder he needed the extra income,” River mumbled.
“And the partner?”
“Douglas Mitchell. Comes from a line of cops. Lives paycheck to paycheck. Nothing stands out.”
“More than likely he agreed to work with Brown to help make a name for himself,” Nazai said. “Either way they’re just the middlemen. We need to find out who gave the orders to take Ziora out.”
“And I plan to do just that,” I said, heading for the steps.
I was growing antsy just sitting around talking. My hands were itching to make the two men in The Barn pay and hurt. I ignored the call for me as I stomped upstairs and out of the side door. I headed back to The Barn.
Stepping into The Barn, I stood at the door, zeroing in on my prey.
Both were chained to the wall like they had done to Ziora. A large, blue tarp laid under them. Douglas looked to still be unconscious from the beating I gave him at the house. His face was swollen, battered, and covered in dried blood. Tommy’s head drooped but when he heard my footsteps it sluggishly rose.
Bypassing them for now, I walked to the wall of tools and eyed it. It was full of different instruments from a variety ofcutting tools, shrew’s fiddle, cattle prod, pliers, an axe, rope, and a branding iron. The collection had grown over the years. Each item catered to one of our pleasures. The corners of my mouth lifted in a stony smirk. My blood pumped vigorously with anticipation of what was to come.
Laying Wilma down, I grabbed the plastic suit, stepped into it, then zipped it up. Next I went for the black leather gloves. By now, everyone had joined me.
“What’s he gonna do?” Inaya whispered.
“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” River replied.
Games were my thing. Playing with my prey and seeing the fear in their eyes excited me almost as much as watching my Bumblebee in the shadows. It wasn’t often that I got into this headspace and the last time I felt this murderous was when we rescued Tiffany.
Turning, I eyed everyone. Lucas must have still been patching Ziora up because they were the only ones missing.
Grabbing Wilma, I slowly stalked toward the guys. It felt like I was wrapped in a cocoon of euphoria. My insides vibrated with elation.
Stopping in front of them, I went down on one knee, lifting Wilma above my head and slamming her down on Tommy’s left knee.
“Ahh!” he cried out, reaching for his knee.
“Your parents should have told you to keep your hands off other people’s things,” I gritted, lifting Wilma and hitting the same knee again. The sound of the bone shattering crunched under the heavy steel.
