Page 40 of Swallow Your Fear
I raised my brow the slightest bit. “What do you owe him?”
Chase tried to wipe his cheek on his shoulder, then said, “That’s none of your fucking business.”
“Alright.” If that’s how he wanted to play, I’d fucking play.
Hooking the revolver in my jeans, I walked over to the forge and withdrew the poker with my gloved hand. The fabric was heat resistant, but unfortunately for Chase, his skin wasn’t. I ambled over to where Chase sat, the tip of the metal glowing bright red.
“What are you doing with that?” His words were hurried, stumbling over one another.
I stopped directly in front of him. “Getting answers.” The spot singed as soon as I brought the blazing tip to hisflesh, eliciting a hiss as his skin melted beneath the smoldering metal. He yelled out, sweat dripping from every pore on his body.
I held it there, almost tempted to not remove it until the tool cooled. After a few seconds, I pulled it away, some of his skin coming with it. “You want to talk now? Or should I heat it up again?”
“You’re fucking sick!” he yelled, slouched forward slightly now as he panted.
“You want to talk about sick?” I lifted his chin with the tip of the poker, his skin instantly singeing. He screamed, but I kept it steady. “Real fucking bold of you to sling that at me when you were the one sleeping around behind Brynne’s back like a fucking coward.”
I needed to get back on track, to find the deed before I put this poker through his goddamn neck, but I was losing my patience, and I didn’t have much to begin with.
Tears fell down Chase’s cheeks, and I removed the tool. He hung his head, saliva dripping from his mouth. “I don’t owe him anymore,” he managed to get out, his voice hoarse from screaming.
I walked back to the forge, laying the tool back inside, then faced him again. Henley and Austin stood by, waiting for my instruction.
“What do you mean, ‘you don’t owe him anymore?’” I hoped like hell he didn’t mean what I thought he meant.
He sniffled, not lifting his head. “I gave him the deed this morning.”
To my right, Henley’s fists clenched, and on my other side, Austin cursed under his breath.
“Where can we find him?”I asked.
Chase shook his head. “You can’t.”
He clearly underestimated us.
“Why don’t you leave that part up to us and tell me where we can find him?”
Chase was silent a moment, clearly thinking over his next words carefully. “He does his dealings at the park near the truck stop about two miles down the exit off seventy-sixth.”
That was all I needed.
I gestured to Austin and Henley, who nodded in response. Grabbing Chase’s gun from my waist, I aimed it straight at his chest, not giving myself a moment to breathe before pulling the trigger. The bullet landed right where his heart was, and Chase slumped forward further, his breathing ceased.
Blood poured from the wound, staining his clothes, and then, the ground. We could frame it as a suicide if we truly wanted to, a man so lovesick over his lost lover that he couldn’t live without her, but the burn marks would be suspicious. Getting rid of his body wouldn’t be a problem, anyway. We were well-versed in making someone disappear.
I set the gun on the shelf, pulling the glove off my hand to lay next to it in case they needed to pick it up. Then, I crossed to Chase’s hunched frame, fishing around in his pockets for his cell phone. Grabbing the device, I headed out of the barn, leaving Austin and Henley to clean up the mess. The idiot didn’t even have a passcode. I found the contact labeled “boss” and shot them a text, asking them to meet Chase at the exact location he had given before I lodged a bullet in his heart. Of course, it wouldn’t be Chase arriving, though. It’d be his worst fucking nightmare.
Pocketing the phone, I aimed for the house, spotting the light still on upstairs.
I had other business to take care of tonight.
Chapter 17
Brynne
When I’d arrived here days ago, I’d unpacked my luggage, stuffing my few belongings in the drawers and closet. The idea that I’d be here long enough to need to do that was ridiculous, and now, as I piled all the clothing back into my two bags, I wished I would’ve just left them in there neatly folded away to begin with.
Maybe it would’ve hurt less if I had.
