Chapter 49

49

Nick

Dark. Cold. I opened my eyes through the fog clouding my brain, to a room that shifted in and out of focus. Tugging my hands brought me to the realization that I’d been tied up.

A sharp angle pressed into my back, and I blinked past the fog to see the drill above my head. Binds bit into my forehead when I attempted to look down. I’d been strapped.

To an industrial-sized, vertical milling machine.

Culling’s face came into view, and that fucking smile I hated stretched his lips. “The infamous Eye for an Eye killer.” He lifted the black ski mask, before tossing it over his shoulder. “Welcome! I’ve waited a very a long time for you. Tell me, how should I address you? E-for-E? Alec Vaughn? Which do you prefer?”

“Nick. Nick Ryder.”

His eyes narrowed. “Nick Ryder is dead, my friend. A very trusted source assures me he was shot in the head.”

“Well, your trusted source is for shit. That, or you can see dead people.”

His lips pursed for a moment. “Whether you are, or not, your name is inconsequential to me. My police chief informs me you’ve been wreaking havoc on the Seven Mile Crew.”

“Man, fuck that crew.” The voice to the right of me told me there were more thugs in the room.

“My concern isn’t the Crew,” Michael continued. “My concern is that you’ve stolen my wife!” His lip curled into a snarl. “And I want her back!”

My mind made a mental rundown of any torture I’d been subjected to while I was out. No trouble breathing. Aside from a fading blur, I could see, so my eyes hadn’t been gouged. No nausea or numbness or tingling anywhere. “I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong man. See, I don’t plan to tell you shit.”

His snarl popped to an evil grin—one that warned of pain. “You know … the jig borer is said to have accuracy up to ten thousandths of an inch. I could essentially perform a lobotomy on you right here.”

“Brilliant. I’m sure I’ll have the wherewithal to remember where I stashed your wife after that.”

Eyes clamped shut, Culling rolled his shoulders and his nostrils flared. “You know, my father was a machinist. In fact, he worked in this very factory when I was a child. A lowly blue collar worker.”

“The hell kind of torture is this? Crucify me with a genealogical lesson on your goddamn family tree?”

I caught a flash of white, before pain rocketed through my jaw.

Culling flexed his fists and shook out his hand, as the dull ache throbbed in my teeth. “As I was saying … my father worked in a factory for years. When he came home, he drank until he could hardly keep himself on two feet. Every. Fucking. Night. And when he was drunk, he liked to seek out my mother, or me, if I happened to be in his way. Any reason he could find to beat the ever-loving shit out of the two of us, he would.” He paused for a moment, eyes narrowed. “On one occasion, I was given a gift. A ring from a young girl I’d befriended. Nothing particularly special, aside that I’d never received gifts. Never had a friend. Never understood the concept of friendship, until she came along. Even then, I struggled to see the benefit but found her … a curiosity.” Head bowed, he paced beside me. “My father, the bully that he was, found my ring and took it from me. When I fought to get it back, my mother stepped in. He murdered her in front of me. And for a week, he kept me tied to a machine in the shed, where he spent his drunken nights beating me. Torturing me. Doing whatever the fuck he wanted, because no one in that shithole neighborhood gave a fuck about another bastard child. They’re all white noise to the dysfunction that thrives in hellhole cities like Detroit.”

Realization hit my gut like a sledgehammer. “You’re … the boy. That Aubree told me about.”

His brows winged up, lips stretched into a weak smile. “Ah, you’ve had intimate conversations with my wife about me. I’m flattered.” He sniffed, licked his lips. “You know what the problem is with this city? It’s not the crime. It’s not lack of money. It’s really not even about blacks or whites.” Fingers curled into a fist, he stood beside me. “It’s lack of ambition. An entire class of lazy, ambitionless fucks, who have nothing better to do than go to the same miserable fucking job day after day, then come home and drink, and beat the shit out of their families.” With a sigh, he shook his head and went back to his pacing. “Eventually, I was found. After a week of hell, someone finally noticed I’d gone missing. I was taken away from my father and moved to the suburbs, raised by a stoic but successful man—a lawyer—and his wife. What a different life. I’d never dreamed of college before then. Never hoped to do more in life than become some fucking apprentice at a machine shop. And yet, look at me.” Hands brushing down his side, he tipped his head and smiled. “I run this fucking place now. I own this city. How ironic is that? The shop that owned my father, who owned me, is mine!” The smile on his face withered to a serious expression. “In all that time, I never forgot Aubree, though. Never forgot the little bitch who’d claimed to be my best friend, and yet, never said a word when I’d gone missing.” His stare, directed beyond me, told me he’d fallen into memories. “I came back for her. Found her. Stalked her night after night. Enrolled in one of her therapy classes. I decided to give back to her what I’d felt every night that my father came to mete out my punishment, while she’d lay cozy in her bed, sparing no thought to what happened to me at all.” The devious twist of his lips had me wishing I could break the binds and pummel his fucking face. “That hopeless feeling, when you wish someone would just fucking kill you already.”

He must’ve somehow manipulated her into feeling sorry for him. Guilt-tripping her into marrying him. No other reason could explain what the hell would make a woman like Aubree, as strong and bull-headed as she could be, fall for a psychotic asshole like Culling.

“The first job I took out of college was as an internist at my foster father’s law firm. With the money I earned, I paid a man in prison to murder my father. It was one less blue collar worker in the world. One less miserable, drunken asshole. And it occurred to me then, how brilliant a plan it was—to eliminate the middle class all together.” His finger pointed in the air, emphasizing his words. “Divide the city into rich and poor. And then have them kill themselves on the streets. Why have the good people pay to keep them locked up? Hand feed them in their prison cells. Survival of the fittest. Stop the breeding of complacency, and open the doors to prosperity and innovation.”

“How very Hitler.”

“Yes! Though I’ll admit his execution was poor … the idea was sheer brilliance!”

“I thought I was crazy.” Much as I wanted to shake my head, I couldn’t. “You’re fucking insane.”

“I am. That, I am.” His eyes narrowed. “I understand that your wife and son were murdered on this day three years ago.” He glanced back to one of his men. “What were their names, Tony?”

“Lena and James.”

“Ah, yes. Lena and James.” His nod morphed into a shake of his head. “Now, if there’s one thing a sadistic, rotten bastard like me understands, its vengeance. I have it in spades. I’m sorry for your loss, my friend, but with big ideas come small sacrifices.”

Fury ignited in my veins and burned inside my muscles. Had to get loose. Needed to hear him howl with pain, watch his face twist with agony. Pain I yearned to inflict. I flexed against the binds holding me in place, the urgency to tear into the motherfucker dominating my senses, telling me to ignore the fire ripping through my wrists with every pull. “I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you!”

His punch-worthy grin toyed with my last thread of sanity, and I yanked the rope, desperate to get loose—even if I’d have one less hand in the process.

“I’d like to make you a deal. I’d have loved to have a man with your talents and knack for evasion, but loyalty drives the engine and trust guides the ship.” Slapping his hands together, he steepled his fingers. “I’m afraid I’d have neither with you. So, how about this? You tell me where to find my wife? I’ll end your life with a bullet to the head. Quick. Painless. An act of mercy on my part, for all you’ve suffered.”

“I’ve already been there, fuck-face. And, I can tell you, it’s neither quick nor painless. So, why don’t you take your act of mercy, shove it up your ass, and fuck yourself with it.”

Another blow popped my lip, and the chasing burn told me he’d split it open.

“My, you have quite a tolerance for pain. Not so much as a grunt each time I’ve hit you.”

“If you were hoping to hear someone scream, you should’ve strapped one of these pussies to the bench.” I nudged my head against the stiff binds, toward whoever stood to the left of me. One of the men growled.

“It’s not my nature to be kind, and I must say … you make it fucking impossible.” Culling signaled one of the men beyond my periphery, and a cart was pulled alongside the machine to which I was strapped. On it, sat a small grinder with a wire wheel on one side, an abrasive grinding wheel on the other. “You’re lucky the lathe is completely out of order. I understand you have quite a sharp trigger finger.”

My hand loosened from the straps, and I drove a fist into the side of the fat fuck who tried to hold me down. Grappling with the second thug, I swung two more times through the air, before my hand was pressed into the metal platform of the cart, the weight of both men crushing against my bones. I struggled in their grip, using all the strength in my arm, but with the rest of my body confined, I failed to move them.

“I’m going to ask you one more time. Nicely.” Culling’s fake, plastered smile taunted my fists, and had they not been strapped, I’d have knocked those perfect fucking teeth right out of his mouth. “Where is my wife?”

“Okay, okay.” I took deep breaths. “If I had to guess … right now, your wife is … basking in the glow of ecstasy after my giving her what your small cock never could.”

The grinder flipped on.

Fire and ice tore through my hand, the sharp bite of electricity stiffening my muscles before they turned cold with creeping numbness. My curses were drowned by the hum of the machine, and the smell of burning flesh stung my nose.

“Ah! One moment. Please.” With a finger in the air, Culling lifted his cellphone to his ear.

The machine cut out, and the numbness crawled up into my wrists, my elbows, my chest, crushing each breath.

“Cox, how wonderful to hear from you. Where the fuck have you been?” Culling paused. “Aubree? Interesting. Bring her to me.” He pulled the phone away from his face then placed it back, his smug grin turning to a frown. “Loading dock. The Ironworks building. Atwater.” Tucking the phone into his jacket, his smile returned. “Well, that’s out of the way. I’d hoped to torture you a bit, into telling me the whereabouts of Achilleus X, but it seems Cox has discovered that as well as found my wife, and they’re on their way here. So, I’m afraid I’ve no use for you, my friend.” He rounded the machine and put his mouth to my ear. “I do intend to punish Aubree for fucking you. I’d hoped she was nothing more than a victim, but I should’ve known better. Once a whore, always a whore.”

I spat in his face. “This isn’t over. I’m coming for you, asshole.”

“I believe the only one coming tonight will be me. Having fucked you.” He kissed my forehead. “You put some excitement in my life, Nick. I’m truly going to miss you.” He glanced down at his watch. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my wife should be here any minute.”

He straightened and gestured toward the men still holding my hand captive. “I want you to take it slow with this one. And when you use the drill, take a video, so Aubree and I can fuck to it later.” His gaze swung back to me. “Between her screams and your screams, I’m sure to get off.”

Culling spun around, two men from beyond my periphery at his heels, and the grinder flipped on again.

Searing pain left my entire arm trembling. I clamped my mouth shut, a silent scream splitting my skull, while jagged flashes of light burst behind my eyelids. My stomach cramped with the tension, my muscles so stiff they ached. In those moments, I thought of Lena, Jay, Lauren, Aubree—all the people I’d let down. The victims of Culling, and I’d be just another statistic for the sadistic motherfucker. My teeth chattered, as the grinder hit my bone and the vibrations zipped up my hands.

A thunderous crash shook the building, and my nerves exploded, jerking my hand.

An aftershock rippled down my spine, dispersing tiny trembles throughout my muscles. The flare of pain fizzled to a dull burn, and the grinding stopped. Plumes of dust and smoke drifted over me as my eyeballs shifted back and forth, searching the ceiling for signs of caving.

A rainstorm of shattering glass and the explosive thunks of crumbling brick sounded from behind. The two men beside me dropped to the floor like dead flies. On the fringes of my view, two other bodies smashed into one another in a flurry of movement.

What the fuck?

I couldn’t move my head, but my hand had been released, and I raised it to my forehead in an attempt undo to the bindings there. A deep gash along my index finger exposed the bone, but I ignored it, and using my other working fingers, I pushed off the leather strap and went to work on untying my left hand.

Gunfire reverberated through the building. My body flinched with each thunderclap that bounced off the walls, as bullets pinged off the metal all around me. A clink hit the mill, and my muscles seized as the bullet deflected.

A gunfight had broken out, and I lay helplessly fucking strapped to the machine.

With a useless index finger, and the sprawling numbness, working the knot free with one hand proved difficult. I couldn’t lift my head for fear of stabbing myself with the drill above me. Digging my fingers into the thick weave of the knot, I slipped, unable to slacken the loop.

“C’mon!” Frustration wound in my gut the longer I toyed with it, my hands still trembling from both the torture and the explosion a minute ago. Gasoline burned my nose and the smell of gun smoke filled the room, like firecrackers on the fourth of July.

Seconds ticked by, and the gunfire lessened, until two guns dueled back and forth with lengthy pauses in between.

One final shot, and the room fell to an eerie silence.

Abandoning my work at the knot, I rolled my head back, looking for signs of activity with the world turned upside down. A patrol car sat in the middle of the opened floor. It must’ve crashed through the rolling door of the loading dock. In the driver’s seat, I could barely make out the figure of a man slumped over, a black mask covering his face. The same mask I wore.

Tinkering at my ankle had my head snapping downward.

Aubree stood, untying my binds, an AK-47 strapped to her arm—perhaps the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

Relief and anger pounded through my body, as it occurred to me she was the only other person in the room with a pulse.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I rolled my head around again, taking in the body count lying in pools of blood all around me. “And did you just take out four gangstas in a matter of minutes?”

A smile lifted the corner of her mouth as she freed my right leg and tossed the rope onto my body. “Did I forget to tell you? I know how to use a gun. My dad taught me. Shot a thirty aught six at five years old. At targets, mostly.”

“You’re a damn good shot.” My attention turned back on my bound wrist. “Any chance you could work on my arm? It’s that … gravity thing.”

The smirk turned into a full-blown smile, but it quickly disappeared when she lifted her gun, aiming like a goddamn ninja sniper, and shot at something behind me.

I craned my neck to see yetanother body crumpled to the floor. “You, uh … want tell me what the fuck is going on here?”

“Later.” Still toiling away at my binds, her brows pinched together, a whole lot of pain clouding her eyes. “I’ve never killed anyone before. I’m trying not to think too much about it right now.”

Within minutes, all four of my limbs were freed, and I slid out from beneath the drill, cradling my mangled hand for a moment as she rounded the machine and strode up to me. A blow to my cheek knocked my head to the side. I turned back to her in complete and utter fucking confusion.

“That’s for drugging me again.” Gripping my nape, she pulled me to her face and crushed her lips to mine, her tongue darting into my mouth. “That’s for leaving the gun on the nightstand.”

“You wanna ditch this party and find a dark corner somewhere?”

“I want to find Michael.”

A tearing sound drew my attention downward, to where she tore away part of my shirt and wrapped my hand tight. “If you’re so good at being badass, how did you remain a prisoner all those years?”

“Asshole never gave me a gun.” She made a final knot, pinching the flow of blood from the wound. “I’m not so hot with hand to hand fighting, so you’re gonna have to watch my ass.”

My brow kicked up at that.

“Let’s go find this bastard and end him.”

I gripped her arm. “Aubree, I can’t let you get hurt in this. I’ll find him. I’ll end him.”

She rolled her eyes, tugging her wrist. “Not happening.”

“I’m serious.” My grip tightened around her forearm. “No fucking around.”

She twisted her wrist, wrenching her arm free. “I’ll be fine.”

No way I’d convince the woman to follow my command. She’d proven time and again how stubborn she could be. All I could do was protect her. “You stay behind me. If shit gets crazy, you bolt. Don’t come back. Promise?”

“Promise.” She kissed me again, and I stepped in front of her, taking the lead.

“So, that bullshit you pulled with me, the shooting lesson. That was—” I picked up my fallen rifle, awkwardly toting it in my non-mutilated hand.

“I thought it was sweet, you showing me how to use a gun.”

A bullet sparked beside me, and both of us halted. Flanked by two burly men with beards, both wearing leather vests, Culling aimed his rifle from the center of the top balcony above us. Two seconds later, bullets sprayed over the open space, a beat after Aubree and I ducked behind equipment. Separated from me by a narrow walkway, she crouched low, keeping her gun tucked close.

A quick peek around the mill showed Culling, heading toward the stairwell, leaving his goons to fight for him.

With a wave, I caught Aubree’s attention and swept my gun left and right, demonstrating that I planned to cover her and for her to run.

She nodded, but a strange, nauseating sensation hit my gut when the corner of her lip kicked up, like she planned to do something fucking crazy.

Sure enough, she bolted from her hiding spot, before I had the opportunity to shoot.