We have a winner. The fucker is telling the truth.
“You’re the lazy cleanup crew, which should have been here how many days ago?”
He goes to nod his head and stops himself.
“Use your words. It will be a little safer for you.” My trigger finger is barely containing the urge to shoot this sick fuck between the eyes so he can see it coming.
“Yes… we are. Shoulda been here a few days ago.” I’m not sure if he’s sweating buckets from his injury, or if I’ve got him scared shitless.
“See, that wasn’t hard at all, was it, Fucknuts? I remove the gun and slap him across the back of the head. “We’re gonna get along just fine. Your laziness worked in our favor.” I point to myself and Miss Catherine.
“There are always checks and balances for the things we decide to take on in life.” I pause for effect. “For example, if you’ve undertaken the job of disposing of dead bodies for some bad guys, and you are a couple of lazy dickwads who get caught talking about fucking one of those bodies, then karma is gonna come and get you.
“Take me, for instance. I’m an enforcer, and I’ve killed many a bad fucker, never an innocent. I dispose of my own bodies, in a timely fashion. I dig my own holes, no subcontracting. I really put my back into leaving no loose ends.
“Defiling those bodies doesn’t even enter my head because I ain’t a sicko. Know what I’m saying?” I’m using my hunter voice. Motherfucker has no clue what’s coming.
“Speaking of which, one of those bodies inside the hangar is known and under the protection of the Lion’s Den MC, and they have been missing this person. It also happens to be the female you were gonna corpse-fuck.” I let that sink in and watch the asshole take a deep swallow. “My club is also missing a young lady, and as of recently, I happen to be missing another one. They’re all under our club’s protection, and we don’t take these women going missing lightly. Hell, you and I are gonna get acquainted, and you will see how badly we feel about what’s happened. The Lion’s Den MC will be coming to claim the body you were contracted to dispose of, and their retribution list has just gotten a couple more sign ups.”
The fucker has the good sense to look terrified. He has every reason to be.
“Now, I’m gonna send Miss Catherine for a walk around the back of the hangar, where she is gonna wait for me because she is a lady and doesn’t need to hear the rest of our conversation.”
I look over at her and give her a look that brooks no challenge. “Go take yourself out back and wait for me to come for you. This time, I need you to listen to me.” I’ve got my calm-before-the-shit-storm hunter voice on. The deadly one, which gives the underlying message to her without any confusion of what is about to go down.
She nods she understands and wanders off around the corner. I hope she does as she is told this time. Anything is possible with her. There is no other place for her to go unless I put her back in that hangar with those dead bodies. If I could, I would be dragging this guy off into the woods. But I can’t. I have to make do.
I turn back to Fucknuts. “Start spilling your guts. I want to know names, numbers, and addresses.”
The idiot is suddenly hard of hearing, so I help his memory along and unzip No Mercy slowly. “Fucknuts, I would like to introduce you to No Mercy, my little bag I use for interrogation. See, it’s not about size; it’s often about the little things and where they get positioned on the body that can really hurt a guy into talking. Are you circumcised?”
“What… the… fuck!” The idiot suddenly regains his hearing and is a little confused by the turn of events.
I thought I was clear enough.
“I don’t like repeating myself. You don’t answer my question the first time, I take action.” I snap on a pair of disposable blue gloves I carry around in No Mercy for such occasions and unzip his pants.
“Get the fuck away from me!” He hollers, spit flying as he struggles against his binds, while I dig around until I find his pathetic cock and flop it out.
I give him a warm smile. “Well, take a lookie at that little slug. Not circumcised! Looks like you’re in luck. I’ve circumcised a man or two in my day. I wouldn’t say it was a medically approved job, but nonetheless, I managed to pull it off.” I pause and admire my humor in the moment. “Well, look there. I think I just made a joke.” I could almost laugh at that pun, but time is wasting.
I cut a piece of duct tape off and then lunge at him, clamping his neck in a headlock, and slap it over his big ol’ mouth because this motherfucker is gonna scream to God and all the archangels for help. He might even sell his soul to the devil. “You might want to hold still for this. It’s a tricky procedure.” Then I hold up a small razor blade and watch his eyes bulge. I grab a hold of his foreskin and get right to it, slicing away, making a bit of a mess, because Fucknuts doesn’t listen to instructions and keeps on trying to thrust his body away from me.
By the time I was finished, I felt we might not need to move on to phase two. He sounded like he was trying to tell me some information, so I ripped the tape right off his mouth.
“You were saying?”
I remove my gloves. The only name he had was Jonathan Boothe.
Bingo!
I believed him. He sung like his life depended on it, which he really believed it did. When another man has your dick in his hands and he’s slicing that fucker up, you tend to fess up.
They were told to be on standby and await instruction and were contacted four days ago. Two keys were left under a rock by the gate to get in here and the hangar.
They had been told to take pictures to prove the job was completed to get paid in cash, and they were to front up in Jackson to receive payment tomorrow in a dive bar called The Pitbull at lunchtime.
“Did this Jonathan Boothe contact you for the job?”
“No. Some other guy. Got no name.” Then he pants his way through the rest of his answer. “Done previous jobs… before for various people, our names… were known in many circles. We always… got the jobs done. Always a burner… phone used so client… kept anonymous. This time… we got given… a name to ask for at The Pitbull, to be paid.”
Neither of the rednecks was wearing a wedding ring. “You two live together?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?” Fucknuts knows where this is headed.
“Yes.” He sounds resigned.
“You ever raped a living female before?”
He lowers his eyes to the ground. I lift his shorts up and slice at an angle across his femoral artery as he lets out a scream, cursing me to the devil.
Actions always get me answers.
He’s now bleeding all over the ground. He has minutes until death and he will lose consciousness soon. He knows he’s dead, so he might as well purge himself and answer me.
“Yes.” That one word comes out resigned to the fact he won’t be walking away from here today alive. His life source is being drained.
“Anybody else know you were coming here today?”
“No.”
“Just so you know, I’ll be leaving Blondie alive in the hangar as a present for the Lion’s Den MC. They will make sure your body is disposed of.”
Whisper’s phone beeps and a text comes in from Lethal. He has the name and address of the lawyer firm on my letter. Eaton Dapusé.
I Google Jonathan Boothe, and with too many to choose from, I do the same with the one from my letter.
Nothing.
I try calling the number associated with the lawyer firm on my letter and get, “This call cannot be connected.”
And then I look at that name again.