Page 377 of Vicious Saint
The clock is ticking, and these three pieces of shit are making it tick even faster.
My eyes remain locked on the guy as I shoot a warning shot downward, making the bullet hit the floor barely an inch from where he’s standing.
A dangerous risk to take, given it’s three guns against one, but guys like these know a police chief can only go so far with covering up murder in one night.
Besides, buzz cut knows who I am, and who my father is.
It would be one hell of a he-said-he-said against a man who’s got heavy ties to the government.
“Oh, you are one foolish little shit.” Buzz cut grates after jumping out of the way.
“This is the last time I’ll be asking nicely. Where the fuck is Hendrix?”
“Now, now, boys. Let’s play nice.” A heavier Russian accent comes from behind the three stooges, and I don’t need to see the fucker to know it’s Nikolai Ivanov. When I do, though, my self-restraint ticks away just as fast as the clock.
In the flesh he stands at buzz cut’s side, black turtleneck reaching just below the beard he’s scratching.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Saint Lavell. I’ve heard wonderful things about you.”
I point the gun at his head. “Odd, since I tend to be a prick.”
“Prick or not, your reputation precedes you.”
“Thanks, pal. Now be a doll and take me to Hendrix so I don’t have to kill your friends.”
The piqued interest as Nikolai tilts his head acts as the reassurance I need to know that Hendrix is still alive. Knowing this has the tension easing on my throat just enough to expel a slight breath.
Can’t say the same for the rage.
“Your stepsister? Of course.” Nikolai folds his arms. “I’ll be more than happy to take you to her.”
My feet make it barely a step before he holds up a finger. “But first, a little precautionary measures.”
Buzz cut strides over, making it a point to shove me before yanking the gun from my hand, then repeats the process with Halo.
I bare my teeth as he starts to search me. “That eager to meet your maker?”
The fucker chuckles, but says nothing, probably because two seconds later he’s cracking me upside my head with my own pistol.
I’m shot awake with a gasp as a bucket of ice water pours over my head, and when I blink past the frozen water I find Nikolai bent eye-to-eye with me.
“Good morning, Saint Lavell.” He curls his lip. “Sleep well?”
“Not as well as you’ll be sleeping by the end of the night.”
“Oh, c’mon. Why the threats? I’m only doing what you asked.”
Nikolai stands, holding his arm out to reveal the scene behind him, which has me thrashing like a wild beast against the chair my wrists and ankles are tied to.
It’s Hendrix, barely conscious, suspended naked and spread eagle from the ceiling. Blood drips from the dozens of cuts along her body, even her head as it hangs in front of her.
“Jimi!” I call out in a scream but get nothing more than a faint groan.
My eyes slice to Nikolai.
“I swear to fucking God you’re a dead man walking.”
“Such big threats from an eighteen year old boy.”
