Page 52 of Her Beast

Sheehan’s eyes widened in horror when he saw Malcolm’s face. “Jesus Christ! You’re a fucking monster. Why didn’t you just kill yourself?”

“Who came up with the idea, who knew about it, and who helped?”

“Fuck yourself, Barton.”

Malcolm felt an unpleasant smile take control of his face. “I was hoping you’d say that. Let’s see what I can do to convince you to cooperate.” He removed a photograph from his breast pocket and held it up in front of Sheehan’s bruised and battered face.

“Why are you showing me that?” the other man blustered, the attempt feeble.

Malcolm just stared, pleased when all the blood drained from Sheehan’s face.

“Please,” he finally croaked.

“Please?” Malcolm cocked his head, as if he couldn’t hear him. “Please what? Please kill them quickly? Please don’t burn them alive? Pleasewhat, you repugnant piece of shit?”

Sheehan gulped convulsively. “How—who told you about them?”

“I have heaps of money and heaps of time,” Malcolm said, enjoying the look of misery on the other man’s face far too much. “And—thanks to you—I have nobody in my life to spend either on. So you, my dear Carl, have become my new hobby. Or perhaps obsession would be a better word.” He glanced down at the photograph in his hand. It had been tinted, so he could see how both the woman and the twin boys she held were all gingers.

“They look a great deal like you, don’t they?” he mused aloud, and then laughed. “But I suppose that’s not surprising given that you’re their fatherandtheir uncle.”

“What are you going to do, Barton?”

Malcolm grabbed his mask off the table and quickly tied it onto his head.

“Please,” Carl begged, “I’ll tell you everything I know. Everything. Please—pleasedon’t hurt them.”

“Start talking. And you’d better make sure what you tell me is the truth, Carl. Because I will check the veracity of every single word.”

“I swear to you on my children’s lives that I’ll tell you every single thing. Just don’t hurt them.”

Malcolm smiled, enjoying the way the other man winced at his expression. “Tell me everything. And be thorough.”

∞∞∞

Malcolm washed the blood from his gloved hands, his mind on what he’d just heard.

His ears rang from Sheehan’s screaming—and begging—but it was his heart that truly hurt.

Not because he’d just tortured a man. He and Smith—back in the day—had done far worse to less deserving victims than what he’d just done to Sheehan.

No, he was sick because of what he now knew.

You always wanted to know all of it, Mal—you wanted the truth. Be careful what you ask for.

He lifted his hands from the water and Joe stepped forward with a clean cloth. “Here you go, sir.”

Malcolm stared at the other man as he dried his hands.

Joe’s expression was unreadable. Torturing another human being—especially what Malcolm had just done to Sheehan to ensure the man had told him the entire truth—was disgusting business but Joe had been in the bully business a long, long time.

He wasn’t a bent man, so he didn’t enjoy inflicting pain. But he was practical, so he wouldn’t judge Malcolm for doing what had been necessary.

Joe would have taken care of Sheehan if Malcolm had asked, but he’d wanted to handle the man himself.

On one hand, Malcolm was sickened by what he’d just done.

On the other—he wanted to go back into that blood, piss, and shit-stained room and do it over again and again and again.

---