Page 90 of Savage Storm

“Don’t know.”

“I figured you’d say that.”

Without another word, the dude’s pinky was snapped off. His screams were like nails on a chalkboard. His body shook as he stared at the little bit of blood trickling onto the cement.

This was only the beginning. He didn’t need to endure so much pain. A bullet in the head was the humane thing to do. We’d gladly put him out of his misery if he’d just answer our questions. I hoped he wouldn’t make this worse on himself.

“Next question. Where’s your nest?”

The guy shook his head as he sobbed. Boxer remained unfazed, but fuck, I hated this kind of shit.

“Answer me, goddammit!” Boxer didn’t wait for a reply and snapped off his thumb. His wails raked down my spine, piercing my eardrum. Stupid kid. He wasn’t making this easy…

My enforcer set the pliers down in a bucket, then pulled out another knife. A boning knife. The one he cleaned fish with. I knew where this was going.

“All fucking summer you Dirty Fuckers have monopolized my time.” He leered at the sobbing kid. “Preventing me from my favorite pastime… fishing. Do you have any idea how much that pisses me off?”

The kid shook his head, drool dripped down his chin.

“No. Of course you don’t. Because you don’t give a fuck about anyone else, but yourself. Not the women you hurt or my brother’s skull you smashed with a lead pipe.” Boxer inhaled a deep breath. “You ever been fishing?”

“N… no.”

“You’re missing out. Sitting on a boat, breathing in the fresh air, just you and nature. And the fish. It calms my nerves. Keeps me sane. But I haven’t been out on the lake. I haven’t caught one fucking fish.” Boxer admired his knife. “Do you like walleye, son?”

“Ne… never… ha.. had it.”

Fuck, my stomach roiled knowing where Boxer was going with this.

“You’re missing out.” Boxer smiled wickedly. “I love to grill mine with some butter, lemon and fresh herbs.” He scowled. “Haven’t gotten the pleasure all summer because ofyou.” He ran the knife along the dude’s stomach. “Gutting a fish is cathartic, y’know. It calms the itch in me to hurt someone. Were you ever abused when you were a boy?”

Jesus. Boxer never talked about his childhood. I glanced at Wolf. He appeared thoroughly engrossed.

The dickhead shook his head. “Please…”

“Please what? Don’t take my fury out on you? Gut you like a fish? Please what? Show youmercy?”

The dude cried like a baby. And slobbering like one too.

“Did Ava beg your enforcer to not rape her?” Boxer hissed as he slowly sliced into the guy’s flesh, but not deep enough to cut him totally open. The prick struggled along the wall. A blood-curdling scream filled the room. His chains clanged against the cement as he tried to break free. The fool. “I want your president’s name and where you fuckers are hiding.” Boxer gritted his teeth, steeling himself. “Or I will make your last hour on this earth hell.”

“I don’t know!” The prospects snapped his eyes shut before he looked at the open wound on his stomach. Blood flowed like a rushing stream, soiling his white briefs.

“Okay, motherfucker, you asked for it…” Boxer went to his cart and pulled out the lye. He shook the container, getting the dude’s attention. “We use this to help dispose of worthless fuckers like you. It’s also used for lutefisk in these parts. Ever heard of it?” Boxer was once again calm, but with a menacing expression. “Lots of Norwegians live in Minnesota and they like their lutefisk. Personally, I don’t likejellied fish.”

Our prisoner thrashed as he watched Boxer open the jar. It didn’t have to be like this. All he had to do was give us information. But I could see he was loyal to his club… his prez. It was too bad, too.

“I won’t talk! Just kill me!”

Boxer shook his head with a disappointed expression. “I thought as much. This is going to hurt…” He sprinkled some lye into the open gash on the dude’s stomach.

I might throw up...

Thirty minutes later, the dumbass finally stopped screaming. To the very end of his life, he didn’t give us shit for our questions. All he told us was the Hunters had outside help. We didn’t know who was helping them, where they were hiding, or the prez’s name.

It fuckin’ pissed me off. We got nowhere with this dickhead. Lucky for him, Boxer didn’t waste time torturing a worthless piece of shit just for the hell of it. Once my enforcer knew he wasn’t getting anywhere, he rushed toward the finish line—to the end of life part.

“What a waste of my fucking energy,” Boxer muttered, cleaning his tools. Wolf was washing the floor after bagging up the body parts we’d somehow deliver to a Hunter.

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