“Dominic just called me. Ryan got the bastard.”
Dante snorted. “Of course he did. He’s like a ghost when he’s tracking.”
“The shooter…He’s not one of Glory’s brothers.”
Taken aback, Dante shook his head as if to clear it. “What? Who is he?”
“They don’t know. He won’t talk.”
“Did they put him in the hut?” The hut was the place where they took intruders for a “chat.”
“Yes. I know ordinarily the interrogating would be up to you, but…” Trey eyed him speculatively, and Dante knew why.
“I’ll be fine with this.”
“The whole matter’s too close to home for you.”
“Which is why it has to be me. You’d say the same thing if this was Taryn.” After a few moments, Trey nodded.
“I’m going, too.”
Both Dante and Trey frowned at the pasty yet fearless-looking female on the bed for eavesdropping. “No, you’re not,” snapped Dante. “You’re staying here.”
“You don’t get to order me around, Popeye.”
“No,” agreed Trey. “But I do.”
“If someone shot me, I have the right to find out why,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Dante will find that out for you.” He turned back to Dante. “Go. I called the enforcers.
They’re all making their way to the hut as we speak.”
Dante gave him a nod of thanks. The last thing he wanted to do was leave Jaime’s side right now, but this was something he needed to do. With one last look at her, he left.
“I don’t believe this,” griped Jaime.
Trey looked at her like she was dumb. “You’re as bad as Taryn. You’ve been shot—you need to rest so you can heal.”
“I need to see that asshole so I can gouge out his eyes. That’s what I need.”
“You’ve never seen Dante interrogate someone, have you?” Most likely in response to her gulp, he correctly surmised, “But you’ve heard about it. He’s the best for a reason. He’ll do whatever he has to in order to get answers. Whatever he has to. He doesn’t want you seeing him like that.”
“I’d never judge him.” Never.
“Maybe you wouldn’t, but he won’t risk that. When he goes into that ‘zone,’ as Dominic calls it, he’s not the same person. Not because he’s cruel or likes to inflict pain, but because he will never put people under his protection in danger, and if that means inflicting pain, then that’s what he’ll do.
That wolf in the hut—he isn’t just some guy who was roaming too close to our territory, he’s someone who hurt you. Dante won’t have one ounce of mercy in his system, just as I wouldn’t if it was Taryn.
If you care for him, Jaime, respect his wish to do this without you and don’t give him a hard time about it later.”
“Whatfreakingever,” she grumbled.
Sensing that she had backed down, he nodded approvingly. “I hope you meant what you said about not judging him, because there’s no way he’ll let that guy live.” The second Dante stepped into the hut, the lanky wolf’s eyes widened and he began struggling against his bonds. Obviously, then, he knew all about Dante’s reputation as an interrogator. Not many didn’t, which was why the wolf’s struggling wasn’t an uncommon reaction. Although Dante had never gotten any pleasure or satisfaction out of the process, he wondered if this time might be a little different.
He was literally hungering to see the person who dared to hurt Jaime in the same kind of pain that she was going through at his hands. Maybe that was wrong, sick, and even callous, but right then he simply didn’t care. His usual morals were buried beneath the rage that was coursing through him, demanding some form of retribution. He understood now just how hard it had been for Trey to hold back and play the waiting game after those wolves attacked Taryn. Jaime was his and would always come before everything else—even his conscience.
With slow, casual steps, Dante came to stand before the male. Like his enforcers, Dante didn’t recognize him or his scent. He had racked his brain, trying to think of people who might want to hurt him and would think to use Jaime to do it. He had as many enemies as the next person. But an enemy who hated him enough to hurt someone close to him? The only ones who came to mind were Glory and her brothers—which made him think that this male in front of him was linked to them in some way. But this seemed out of character for the brothers. Crazy people tended to do their own dirty work, because they enjoyed it.
Dante’s wolf growled and bucked, wanting freedom so that he could tear apart this male who had hurt Jaime; his struggle to be free was so fierce that Dante’s eyes flashed wolf. The male in front of him struggled harder, pulling against the rope that bound both of his wrists to the arms of the chair.
Dante’s wolf liked that the male’s fear was practically pulsing in the air, relished the scent of it.
“Name?” The male didn’t answer, and Dante hadn’t expected him to. Dominant wolf or not, he would be intimidated by the sight of Dante and the enforcers, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t take a fair bit of pressure before the wolf would break. “Name.” It was a demand this time, not a question.
Sweat was beading the captive’s forehead and greasing his hair. “Fuck you.”
“Good name, I like it. Easy to remember. Mind if I call you Fuck for short?” He ignored the scowl directed at him. “Why don’t you start by explaining what inspired you to hang around our territory with a rifle?” The male said nothing. As Dante bent forward, the scent of the male’s fear in the air rocketed. “I asked you a question. You don’t have to answer it. In fact, I’m hoping you don’t.”
“Fuck you.”
Dante smiled crookedly. “You’re not going to be cooperative? I love it when that happens. An interrogation’s no fun without a bit of torture mixed in, don’t you agree?”
“If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with.”
“I would if I could, Fuck, but as it turns out you’ve got some info I need. Please tell me you’re not ready to share it, because I haven’t got to the fun part yet.”
“I’m not telling you anything,” he growled.
“Good.” Dante grabbed the little finger of Fuck’s left hand and snapped the bone. After the scream of pain faded, Dante asked, “Who are you, and why did you target my female?”
“Fuck you.”
Dante grabbed the next finger up on his left hand and snapped it backward. Fuck’s howl of pain was just as ear piercing as the last. Dante repeated the question with the same amount of patience as before. “Who are you, and why did you target my female?”
“Fuck you.”
He wrenched hard at Fuck’s third finger. Maybe the screams should have made him wince and penetrated his enraged state, but all Dante could think was that these fingers belonged to a hand that had aimed a gun at Jaime and shot her. “I don’t think I have to point out that if you drag this out, this is going to continue for a while.”
“Fuck you.”
“I’m beginning to think you have a very limited knowledge of the English language.” Dante snapped his index finger. “Has that answer come to you yet?”
“What’s the point in telling you anything?” he wheezed out, pain etched into his face. “You’ll kill me anyway.”
Dante sighed. “Let’s look at it this way, Fuck. Once you’ve told me what I want to know, I’ll have no more use for you, and you’ll be quickly disposed of. But if you drag this out, you’re going to go through a lot of seriously bad pain first. You shot my female, you put a hole in her leg, you made her bleed, you put her through a serious amount of pain, and I have a huge fucking problem with all that. None of it is acceptable to me, and none of it is forgivable for me. Naturally, there’s no chance of you getting out of this hut alive. Whether you die quickly or painfully is up to you. What will it be?”