Chapter 7

Kipp

Guns are loud.

For your ears.

For your neighbors’ ears.

Pets.

Strays.

Wildlife.

Plus, they have kickback, and they jam, and they misfire, and they have safety measures or levers you gotta remember to turn off or know how to turn off in order for them to be effective.

But tools?

Tools are quiet.

They don’t make a fucking sound for anyone other than you and the person or people you’re with and that’s exactly what we need in this situation.

The pale man from the cemetery whips his face wildly back and forth forcing me to grab a fist full of his damp hair to hold him steady.

Guy’s dripping more oil than an old pinto.

I get him having the sweats.

Getting caught, captured, and tortured when you’re not trained for it is terrifying shit.

That would make anyone leak engine fluid from both ends.

And he has.

First, he pissed himself the second he woke up in our shed.

Again…who could fucking blame him?

Opening your eyes to my boyfriend’s hand around your throat to help pin you in place while me and my girlfriend zip tie your ass to an old chair in a toolshed where no one can hear you scream or beg for mercy or forgiveness is…pretty goddamn horrifying.

But so is a surprise attack at a fucking graveyard.

The same graveyard you stole my mother’s corpse from because you work for a sick fuck.

Post successfully pissing on Nolan’s shoes – mine barely stayed out of the splash zone – he gurgled on his own vomit, further proving he’s probably in a bit over his head.

Like I said, both of the leaks make sense.

It’s whatever shit he’s got pouring from his curly hair and slathered all over his Jesse’s Jetta white skin that’s fucking me up.

Is it rehydrated soap?

Conditioner?

Did he fucking bathe in sunscreen?

Wedging the cobra pliers deeper into his mouth, I work my wrist to secure the clamp onto another top tooth, meet his blue glare with mine, and ruthlessly yank backwards, ripping the off-white object cleanly out of place.

Blood curdling screams echo around the space as I drop it in the old drain pan Bunny is proudly holding.

If anyone should be proud, it should be us.

Not only did she not run when it would’ve been the perfect time to, she saved our asses.

Hit this asshole in the head hard enough to immobilize him.

And instead of letting us kill him with his own gun before burying his body – we were already in a cemetery – she insisted we take him somewhere.

Ask him questions.

See if maybe he’ll cough up something we or Garcia can actually fucking use to our advantage.

Maybe get us on the same lap as McAdams instead of stalling behind.

When all Nolan and I could see was rage, she managed to keep calm and focused.

Prove she wants to protect us… what we have… as much as we do.

It’s the kind of shit that makes me and Nolan wanna simultaneously drop to our knees and feast for hours.

Race to see who can have her crossing the orgasm line first.

Unfortunately, that can’t happen until after we finish up our work here.

And I don’t care what anyone says.

Torture is work.

Even when you find pleasure in it.

Red streams seeping past the corners of his mouth to mix with his tears, create a sight that prompts me to resume my interrogation. “ Where. Is. My. Mom’s. Body? ”

Choked sobs and hyperventilating sounds – both of which feel like test drive demonstrations rather than anything real – are expelled around his stuttered response, “I…I…I…d-d-d-don’t…kn-n-n-now.”

“I don’t believe you.” Pulling his head backwards by a second fist full precedes me jamming the tool back into his crimson coated mouth. “Let’s see what your molar has to say.”

“ Nooooooooo!! ” escapes in a muffled croak due to the grip portion of the pliers latching onto the aforementioned location. “ Pweasenodomistome! ”

This time I decide to prolong the process.

Tug and tug and tug.

Toy with the nerve.

Play with the pressure.

Extend the agony while intensely watching tears flow freely from his bulging stare, wanting – fuck that – needing to paint something in this situation right.

Prove there’s something here for the woman I lost too soon in life to be proud of.

I can take care of those I love.

I fucking will.

Slowly removing the sullied instrument is followed by bringing it up to my ear and villainously taunting, “ What’s that? ” I crane slightly forward. “ You think he should talk? ” My glare burrows deep into his. “ You think he should talk before I ask your brothers and sisters for answers? ”

“Dental puppetry,” Nolan grunts a chuckle. “Talk about shit you don’t see every day.”

“Or shit I had never seen until today,” Bunny quietly quips.

“ I don’t know! ” the male shouts, blood spurts splattering across my face. “ I don’t know anything about that! ”

Displeased grumbles leave me as I discard the latest removed piece beside the four others and use the edge of my shirt to wipe away spatter.

“Look, Toothless Tony,” my boyfriend casually begins from his position beside me, “you might wanna give The Kid something before he washes your mouth out with windshield wiper fluid.”

I cock my head challenging to one side at the same time I sneer, “Ask me how that shit worked out for my old man. Go ahead. I fucking dare you.”

“ Hint ,” the woman possessing the pan pipes up in a snarky nature, “it wasn’t good.”

Our guest shifts his glare back to me, ruby shades staining his chin.

Swelling jaw.

Quivering neck.

The striking red sight has me wanting to sing “Little Red Corvette” for probably the wrong reasons; although, I’m sure if I asked Bunny, she’d say there’s never a wrong reason to sing a Prince song.

“I don’t know anything about the body thing…” His proclamation is attached to a pleading headshake. “I really don’t.”

An unconvinced nod is delivered prior to relinquishing my hold and exchanging the drenched weapon for the plastic jug of blue liquid that’s stationed conveniently on the work bench next to the currently unused pliers.

Which may change after I clean up this mess.

Perhaps using the needle nose to reach up into the area they share a name with and yank out chunks of hair will get him telling us what we wanna hear.

Dental torture is pretty fucking awful.

But nose torture?

I’d bet that shit might even be worse .

“Say ah, motherfucker,” I command while twisting the lid off.

“ N- ” barely makes it past his lips courtesy of Nolan abruptly grasping his jaw to keep the area open for me.

Grabbing a small funnel and one of the teeth occurs without a second thought. The attacker – who picked the wrong family to fuck with – returns to wildly squirming, desperate to get away from the impending torment.

His new howls of horror become much harder to decipher once I shove the pouring aid in position and instruct my best friend to angle the man’s face back a bit more.

The instant the bottle is placed to the edge of the object, I peer over to maintain eye contact during my informing, “It doesn’t take much of this shit to kill you.” Rage that I haven’t felt in years foams to the surface forcing me to darken my tone and demeanor. “And let me make something freshly waxed fucking clear, asshole.” Trickling the liquid along with tossing the tooth through the tiny space is accompanied by the end of the declaration. “ I have no problem with killing you. ”

Gurgle filled groans reverberate around the room until they’re replaced by high pitched screams of surrender the second his mouth is free again. “ I’ll talk! I’ll talk! I’ll fucking talk! ”

Bunny tosses the pan carelessly onto the tool table at the same time she teases, “I think he’s ready to talk.”

“Fuck! Yes! Yes!” He immediately cries out unable to steady his heaving chest. “I’ll talk! I don’t know shit about a dead body, though! I swear! I fucking swear!”

New unhappy grunts leave me during my slamming of the bottle down beside his tooth container. “Then tell us something better.”

“I was only there for the girl!”

“She has a name,” our boyfriend calmly clarifies. “ Use it. ”

“I can’t! I don’t know it!”

Intrigue has me furrowing my brow and folding my arms firmly across my chest. “You don’t know a lot.”

“I don’t!” He concurs at another earsplitting volume. “In the beginning we were just given a fucking secret contract to sign, a burner phone, her photo, and cash to get us started. Nothing else.”

“You’re one of the bounty hunters,” Nolan heavily sighs.

“Yeah,” he rapidly nods, body doing its best to race towards the edge of his seat. “And…And…And…I got a message from the man that hired me-”

“ McAdams ,” whispers Bunny, his name being the last one she ever wants to say.

“Yeah! Yeah! Him! He sent a text that the girl was headed out to the cemetery with her two bodyguards-”

“ Boyfriends ,” Nolan and I correct in tandem.

“Wait…” Confusion crinkles his face. “I thought he – the rich dude paying us – was the boyfriend.”

“That’s her ex ,” I instantly clarify.

“Her stalker ,” adds Nolan.

“ Her abuser. ”

“ Fuckkkkkkkk ,” the bound assailant murmurs under his breath before pushing forward with his explanation. “He uh…he told me that now would be my best to chance to grab her, so I better fucking go for it.”

There’s no hesitation to ask, “Why you?”

“I guess I was closest? Fuck, I don’t know.” His shrug is rather innocent. “And I honestly didn’t care. All I gave a shit about was that reward. It’s fucking huge.”

Can’t imagine it’s worth his fucking life.

“And I swear the shit gets huger every day.”

Too bad he’ll never see a fucking cent of it.

“Our employer – uh… McAdams – had warned us that you two basically have a leash on her at all times-”

“I don’t appreciate that fucking phrasing,” Bunny huffs.

“I’m tellin’ you, Rabbit,” our partner playfully waggles his eyebrows, “you might like it.”

“And I might like turning your testies into a chew toy. Should we try that too?”

“Rabbits don’t need chew toys.”

“ Incorrect . They have an innate need to chew. It helps wear down their teeth.”

“You know I don’t like bite marks on my trunk.”

“Twig.”

“Don’t make me my whip the shit out in mixed company to correct you.”

Light snickers leaving them both encourage my shoulders to lower and relief to roll itself through my system.

We’re okay.

Everything is gonna be okay.

This hasn’t rocked anyone too much.

They’re still them.

We’re still… us.

My family is still intact.

Still fresh to the dealership floor.

Whole.

“He uh…he also told us that she hadn’t been spotted in public much lately and that even when she was, she was never left unprotected, not even to take a fucking leak, so getting directly to her is…damn near fucking impossible.”

“ That phrasing I love,” Bunny warmly announces.

“Unless we were to attach the word Mission to it,” Nolan mirthfully grumbles.

“Blow me for not being in love with Tom Cruise like the two of you.”

“We are not in love with Tom Cruise, nor will we reward you for your shit taste in movies,” our boyfriend chastises in such a way I can’t help but snicker. “I mean who doesn’t fucking like the Mission Impossible franchise?”

“They have some incredible fucking cars in those movies. That Lambo Gallardo in 3? It made more than a brief cameo in my dreams for weeks after I first saw it . ”

“Can we focus on the fuckface currently tied up and not the one you two clearly have fan club memberships to?”

Amused glares precede us relocating our attention back to the trembling individual who resumes speaking the instant we do.

“ Because of her being so obviously inaccessible, this was my one real shot.” The kidnapper pauses to correct himself. “ His one shot at someone actually catching her. Fucker even promised to double the reward if I was successful.”

Can’t help but wonder if he offered that because he knew this guy wouldn’t be.

Huh.

What if this whole thing was just one more power play ploy?

A revving of his engine to let us know more of what we already know is under his hood.

“ Where is he ?” Nolan damn near growls the question Bunny and I are clearly both thinking. “ Where. Is. McAdams ?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you need a fucking liquid reminder?” I threaten, hand reaching for the plastic jug.

“ No! No! ” He hoarsely shrieks. “I swear to fucking god I don’t!”

“Were you supposed to deliver me directly to him?” The wanted woman curiously searches for a clue. “To one of his associates? Frat bros? His godawful mother? His poor Stockholm syndrome-stricken father?”

“I-I-I’m not s-s-sure.”

Nolan slowly shakes his head at the same time he coldly warns, “You’re back to being unhelpful, Toothless Tony.”

“I-I-I…” he verbally stumbles encouraging me to grip the handle on the bottle. “I can’t give you what I don’t have!” The sight of me slowly transitioning the object closer summons more screeching. “ My phone! ”

All actions from me abruptly stop.

“ Take my phone! ”

Tilting my head to one side occurs in wordless curiosity.

“It’s a burner to his burner so you can’t trace it, but maybe you can see where his calls have like bounced on towers or some shit?! Or text him to back the fuck off?? Tell him she’s moved on and that you’re not bodyguards, but boyfriends! Maybe he doesn’t know that?! Or…or…tell him the cops are closing in?! That they’re looking for him! Or…or…or…oh! The other hunters?! You can try to find them! We kind of share information shit between us. Agreed to divvy up the big payoff if anyone’s shit actually helped anyone else catch her.”

“All viable options,” Nolan all knowingly hums. “Question is…where do we begin after we kill you?”