15. Fourteen

The first time I watched a man be tortured for information was in Kosovo. American forces assisting locals had identified a Serbian operative that I was tasked with bringing in. It wasn’t like my previous jobs, which entailed shooting to kill. I had to capture the operative and haul him to one of their safehouses, and he went kicking and screaming in two languages. No one said I had to stay to watch, but no one told me to leave either.

Torture is one of those things you can either handle or you can’t, and it becomes obvious early on if you have it in you or not. While I didn’t wield the knife back in Kosovo, there had been times when that task had fallen to me, and I did it without a second thought. There was a monster in me, one that could ignore pleas for help and cries of pain. As cold as Xion could be, I didn’t know yet if he had that same monster living under his skin, too.

“Names, Harold,” Xion demanded. “Now.”

“There is no list of names,” Harold spat back, squirming. “It’s all done anonymously online! I don’t know anybody!”

“But you know how to find out, don’t you?” Xion put the dildo aside and walked up the line of tables, selecting a wrench, of all things, before turning back to Harold. “And you’re going to tell me so I can burn this whole fucking operation to the ground.”

Lights suddenly came through the window. I frowned and went to pry open the blinds in time to see an ugly green Kia Soul pull in behind my Jeep. “Shit, we’ve got a problem. The Laskins are here.” I turned away from the blinds.

Xion frowned. “What the fuck are they doing here?”

“Didn’t I mention they might be looking into a related case?” I flashed him what I hoped was a winning smile and rubbed the back of my head. “I might’ve run into one of your brothers while I was tailing this piece of shit the other day. They’ve probably been keeping tabs on him.”

“Well, make them go away,” Xion said, pacing back over to Harold. “Harold is mine.”

“That’s easier said than done,” I grumbled, but slipped out of the bedroom door anyway.

I thought I’d been careful bringing Harold out to the safehouse. I’d chucked his cell out the window and searched him when I stripped him. He didn’t have a tracker anywhere on him, so how the hell had the Laskins figured out where we were?

Guess I’d better get that answer from the source, I thought, going into the kitchen. I threw open one of the cabinets and pulled out the sawed-off shotgun I had hidden in there and loaded it up before stepping out onto the porch. Xander, Xavier, and River were all just getting out of the Kia when I fired a warning shot about fifteen feet into the ground in front of them.

“That’s far enough, boys,” I shouted, chambering two more shells. “Now get off my lawn.”

Xander lifted his hands in surrender. “We don’t want any trouble.”

“The fuck we don’t,” River snarled, pulling Xander back and stepping in front. “Put that gun down or—”

“Or what?” I scoffed. “What are you gonna do from all the way over there?”

River clenched his jaw, a dark expression falling like a veil over his face. “I know where you live.”

“Yeah? Likewise. You really want this war? Keep walking, my friend.”

“That’s enough,” Xavier said, his tone cold and decisive. Hands in the pockets of his long coat, he took several steps forward. “Boone isn’t going to shoot us. Are you Boone?”

I shifted my grip on the shotgun. Damn him for calling my bluff. “That depends entirely on how you answer my next question. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Let’s not play this game,” Xavier said, continuing to advance. “I know you had Leo hack into my computer. I know what files you copied. I know you’re working the same job as us. I don’t know why, but I didn’t have to know any of that to have someone slip a tracker onto your Jeep.”

“Bullshit,” I spat. I had my Jeep swept for trackers twice a week. Leo would’ve found it if he’d put it on there… Wouldn’t he? I wracked my brain, trying to pinpoint when he would’ve had the opportunity to do it. None of the Laskins had been sighted in the yard, and the last time I’d run into one had been Xander at Walmart.

Except Shepherd. He’d been right there, given unrestricted access and had every opportunity to do it.

God dammit! That motherfucker wouldn’t. Except I knew damn well he would, especially since I was giving him a hard time.

I didn’t lift the gun. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

Xavier rolled his eyes. “Come on, Boone. You know we’re tracking Harold. Is it really a surprise I could put two and two together? He disappears and then you show up at one of your safehouses a few hours later?”

“How do you know this ain’t just one of my vacation trailers? I could be here for a romantic getaway for all you know.”

“Only you would think there’s anything romantic about a doublewide in the middle of nowhere,” River muttered.

Xavier ignored him. His foot hit the bottom stair and he stopped. “I know everything there is to know about you and your people. I know every piece of property you own, every shell company you funnel money through, every account or debt tied to you or your men. If it exists, I already know about it. I also know you’ve got Harold Spencer in there and you’re going to torture him for information, so can we just skip to the part where we work together to get this job done?”

I eyed River and Xander, both of whom had stayed over by the car while Xavier closed the distance. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”

Xavier shrugged, looked straight at me and said, “I’m a digital god and your hard drive is my plaything. So yes, Boone. I know everything.”

I smirked and finally lowered the shotgun. “Bet you twenty bucks I know something you don’t know about this whole case.”

He looked me up and down, wrinkling his nose at me like I was a stain on a wall, but before he could take me up on that bet, Harold’s muffled cry came from inside. Xavier’s eyes snapped to the back bedroom window. Listening closely, I could just make out Xion’s voice below Harold’s screaming.

Xavier’s expression darkened. “Who else is here? One of your men?”

“Why don’t you come see for yourself?” I pushed open the front door.

He looked at me, trying to gauge whether I’d lead him into a trap, which I would in a heartbeat if it suited me. It didn’t though, for now.

Xavier’s brothers joined him, and they all filed past me into the living room where they paused to look around. Another sharp, gurgling cry from Harold sent them all rushing for the back bedroom, only to find me standing in their way.

I threw open the door and froze, taking in the scene. There was blood everywhere, crisscrossing on the walls in crimson arcs, splattered on the ceiling, running over the edge of the bed like a waterfall to pool in the carpet. Harold lay twitching and restrained in the bed with Xion crouched overtop of him, a handsaw in his fist.

Slowly, Xion turned his head, eying the four of us standing in the doorway. With blood dripping from his chin and his fingers, smoke trailing up from his cigarette, and a particular darkness in his eyes, he looked like a mad god of vengeance.

I didn’t think I’d ever been so turned on in my life.

“Holy shit,” Xander said behind me. “It’s Xion.”