I’d always enjoyed hiking with Fletcher in the mountains. It was a special treat, being surrounded by so much of my own element, these steep ridges, flat plateaus, and rocky landscapes that I felt such kinship with. I would have enjoyed this outing too, if not for the horrible circumstances that had brought me here.
Warren slowed, then finally stopped. He gestured to the top of the rock-strewn ridge that we’d been climbing up.“Grimes’s camp is about another hour beyond that crest,” he said. “But we’ll start running into the traps he has set up around the perimeter soon. Maybe even more guards. So I figured that you might want to stop and do whatever it is that you’re going to do with that fella before we go any farther.”
I looked at Warren, and he stared right back at me, his expression carefully devoid of emotion. He knew exactly what I was planning to do, and so did Owen, who also had a blank look on his face. The only one who wasn’t clued in was Grimes’s man. His head kept swiveling back and forth between us.
“Thank you for letting me know. You guys might want to take a walk for a few minutes.”
Warren snorted and flapped his hand at me. “Bah, I’ve seen more blood and violence in my lifetime than you have, Gin. So don’t try to coddle me.”
“I’m staying too,” Owen said in a quiet voice.
I stared at them both again, but their shoulders were set, their mouths fixed in flat, determined lines. They knew what I was going to do now, what I had to do in order to have the best possible chance of saving Sophia.
“All right,” I said. “But don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”
I turned to my prisoner and ripped the duct tape off his mouth. The guy hissed with pain, but that was the only sound he made. He’d learned that much, at least.
“It’s finally time for you to be useful,” I drawled. “Tell me about Grimes’s camp and what he did with the woman he kidnapped this morning, the one with the black hair and clothes.”
The guy shook his head. “I’m not telling you a thing, not one damn thing.”
“Sure you are,” I replied in an easy voice. “Everyone talks eventually. Even me. The only question is how much it has to hurt first. And believe me when I tell you that I’m very, very good at inflicting massive amounts of pain on people in a very, very short amount of time.”
He gave me a surly look. “You think I’m scared of you? Please. You couldn’t possibly be the Spider. That ruthless bitch would have killed me the second she saw me. Not dragged me halfway up the mountain instead.”
“You’re right,” I replied. “So maybe I should get on with things. Wouldn’t want to disappoint my fans.”
I slid my backpack off and set it on the rocks. Then I started rolling my shoulders and swinging my arms from side to side, limbering up for what was to come. I even did a couple of squats, just for kicks. Yeah, it was a show more than anything else, but sometimes a little show was all you needed to get someone to see things your way.
But the guy kept quiet through my warm-up routine, so I decided to up the ante by palming a second knife and turning toward him.
He let out a harsh laugh. “Oh, look, she has another knife. What do you think you’re going to do with that, honey? cut me up a steak for dinner?”
I kicked the guy’s right knee out from under him, and he landed awkwardly on his ass on the rocks. Before he could yell with pain, I slammed my boot into his ribs, driving the air out of his lungs again.
And I didn’t stop there.
Again and again, I kicked him in the ribs, chest, and stomach, until he got the message. He groaned and rocked from side to side, trying to find some position where his body wouldn’t ache, but there wasn’t one. I’d made sure of that.
When his moans finally died down, I straddled him and crossed my blades over his throat. “Now, sugar, I’ll show you exactly what I intend to do with my knives— unless you start talking.”
The guy glared at me, still defiant. “Go to hell. You won’t get anything out of me. I’m more scared of what Mr. Grimes will do to me than some bitch with a couple of knives.”
“Your mistake, sugar.”
“Why is that?”
I leaned down so he could see exactly how cold and empty my eyes were. “Because Mr. Grimes isn’t here right now—but I am.”
Before he could protest, I slapped the piece of duct tape back over his mouth.
And then I started cutting him.
I used small, shallow cuts at first. A nick here, a thin slice there. Little more than paper cuts, really. But the longer I worked on him, the deeper I went, slowly sawing into his neck, his arms, and the thick muscles of his chest.
I didn’t particularly enjoy torturing people. In fact, it went against everything that Fletcher had ever taught me about being an assassin. No kids, no pets, no torture.
But Sophia’s life was at stake, and there was nothing that would keep me from rescuing her, not even Fletcher’s
killer code of honor.
Owen and Warren stood a few feet away, watching the
whole thing. Every slice I made, every bit of blood that
spurted out of the guy’s wounds, every muffled scream he
let out through the tape over his mouth as I dug my blades deeper and deeper into his tender flesh. They didn’t say a word, and they didn’t try to interfere. Even if they’d wanted to, Owen and Warren couldn’t have stopped me. Not from doing whatever it took to save Sophia. Not even from this.
The guy writhed on the ground, trying to buck me off, but I dug my knees into his chest and used my weight to hold him in place.
And then I cut him some more.
It went on for about three minutes before the guy started shaking his head up and down, as though he were trying to scream,
Yes! Yes! Yes! I’m ready to talk!
I rocked back onto my heels and coldly considered him. “I’m going to take the tape off your mouth now.
You’d better be ready to tell me everything I want to know. Because if this is a trick and you eventhinkabout screaming, then I’ll bury my knife so deep in your throat that you won’t let out so much as a whistle before you die. Understand?”
The guy furiously nodded again, his head moving even faster than before.
I leaned forward and yanked the tape off his mouth.
“Now, where is the woman Grimes took? What does he plan on doing with her?”
“She’s—she’s at camp!” he sputtered. “It’s about another hour away, just like the old man said!”
“Is she still alive?” I had to ask the question, even though my heart felt as hard and heavy as a brick in my chest, dreading the answer.
“Yes! Yes, she’s still alive!” the guy said, the words tumbling out of his mouth one after another. “Grimes wants her for himself! He told the rest of us not to even think about touching her!”
I didn’t have to ask him any more questions, because the guy started babbling all about Sophia, Grimes, and the camp. He told me everything that I wanted to know and a few things that I didn’t. Apparently, in his free time, Grimes liked to go trolling through Ashland, especially around the community college. Once he saw a girl he liked, he grabbed her off the street, out of one of the parking lots, or even right off campus and brought her up to his mountain camp, and he didn’t let her go until she died from the torture, rape, and abuse that he subjected her to. Occasionally, Grimes would get bored with a girl before he killed her, and he’d give her to the rest of his men as a reward for their loyal service. The girl always died real quick after that.