Page 31 of Their Stolen Obsession
I followed Saint’s lead, but glanced back at Max. Jesus, my damn eyes hurt. The shine from his baldness reflected off the light over his head and was bright. Shit. If I ever needed bald head advice, I knew who to turn to.
Saint got to the doorway first, leading to our favorite place, and I held the door for him.
“After you.” I grinned.
Saint only groaned, and the sound made Johnny jump. Petrified fuck. He should be damn scared. I bet he’d shit his pants, but I hated it when our victims do that. The body’s need to empty itself out of fear of death was like it sensed the end was near and gave off an overwhelming stench. I hated to clean the mess, but it was necessary to see our girl again. I still made a wish for Johnny to keep his shit together. Selfish, I know, but I could always fantasize for the best.
Saint heaved Johnny down into the metal chair. The light above swung back and forth. I couldn’t help laughing at the sight of Johnny trembling against the metal, his ring clanking against the armrest.
“Why the hell are you laughing? What’s so funny about this?” Johnny asked as his teeth chattered and fear lit up in his browneyes.
Johnny’s resemblance to a girl was uncannily startling, almost to the point I was sorry for him. His eyes were big, resembling a poor doe about to be slaughtered, except the bastard hadn’t accepted his undeniable fate yet. I’d give him a helping hand, or better yet, a finger, to lead him on his way to the afterlife. But I secretly prayed for him to burn in hell.
Slowly, I moved toward Johnny and took off my suit jacket. I let the expensive coat fall to the floor. I wanted to get down to business, and I rolled up the sleeves of my white dress shirt.
I unclasped my necklace, removed the skull pendant, and told my best friend, “Move aside.”
Saint listened.
Saint knew my plan and welcomed the sped-up version because our clock was ticking. Our girl was running out of time, and every moment she wasn’t with us, the devil only knew what happened to her. We couldn’t have that. Satan only danced with us.
“Liv Valencia is missing,” I explained as I grabbed his finger from the armrest and wrapped the wire of my necklace around his teeny tiny limb. “We need your help to find her.”
Johnny thrashed in his seat, trying to escape, but Saint held him down by the shoulders.
“I know nothing about that! I don’t—” his pointless explanation ended with a painful scream as Ipulled the wire tight and severed his finger with the ring on it.
Our evidence. The gold band now belonged to us instead of this stupid excuse for a man.
I wiped Johnny’s bodily fluid from the wire of my necklace onto his shirt. I carefully attached the skull pendant back into place and dangled the piece back where it belonged.Another slice well-done.
Blood dripped from Johnny’s wound as he cried and yelled for help. Pure panic had now set in, and he knew his life was in danger. One step closer to acceptance, but truth be told, I didn’t give a fuck.
“Johnny, Johnny, Johnny… This ring led you to us…” I whispered as I held his finger up to his face as the redness slowed its trickle, and he looked like he’d be sick. “Where did you get this from?”
“I… I—” He puked.
All over my fucking brand new Dior Timeless shoes. Fuck!
“Now why’d you have to go do that, Johnny boy?” I exclaimed as I kicked his bile off the left shoe, but it was all over the string. I grabbed him with one hand, puckering his cheeks. “These are expensive, man!”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll pay you back,” Johnny pleaded pitifully.
I stared him straight in the eyes. “But there’s no time for that, I’m afraid.”
I let go of Johnny’s face as Saint wrapped his arm around his neck and placed him in a headlock. Slowly, I grinned, tilting my head back and forth as I watched his face turn blue. His mouth opened and closed as I admired his need for air. Those doe eyes turned red as they bulged from their sockets, ready for death.
Saint asked, “Where did the ring come from?”
“You better answer, my friend.” I raised an eyebrow at Johnny, who clenched Saint’s forearm, and I glanced up at my best friend. “Loosen up.”
Saint listened.
“Pit—” Johnny coughed out as he gasped for breath and Saint released him completely.
“Who?” I asked.
Johnny went into a coughing fit, doubled over in the seat we had kindly given to him, and he gagged. He spit at the ground. Blood was on his neck and ran down his crisp white T-shirt from his severed finger. Jesus. He was a mess.
