Alec’s eyes flit to Emo, who up until that point has remained silent. Recognizing the deathly look in Emo’s eyes and knowing he’ll get nowhere with him, the asshole begins to beg.
“Please, please, don’t do this.” He throws his hands up and smashes them together, like he’s praying to us. “I-I did it. I r-raped and killed Aiden. I’ll go to the p-police right now and confess. Just p-please don’t kill me.”
I contemplate his plea as I pull a chair away from the table and take a seat. “One question. Why?”
His gaze drops and he closes his eyes. His voice is a hoarse whisper when he answers. “I found out my fiancée was trying to seduce him.”
“So you decided to punish your son for the sins of your fiancée? Did it work? Did he sleep with her?”
“No.” Alec opens his eyes and his mouth forms a straight line. “But he would have eventually. Charlotte can be very persuasive.”
“You have some seriously fucked up priorities. I hope the bugs feast on your rotting corpse.”
I glance to Emo and tip my chin. He doesn’t need to be told twice. Before Alec has a chance to make a sound, Emo has his hand wrapped around his throat. His eyes glaze over in pain as he frantically paws at the fingers restricting his airway. A moment later, there’s a sickening crunch as his larynx is crushed, ensuring he can’t scream for whatever Emo has planned for him.
His struggles cease as his efforts move to painfully and unsuccessfully pull in much needed air. If given long enough, he’ll die from lack of oxygen. That’s not the way Emo plans for the man to die though.
He carelessly tosses Alec’s weakened body farther on the table and climbs a top to straddle his waist. I get comfortable by throwing my feet up on the edge of the table and cross my ankles.
Emo slides a wicked looking knife from the sheath at his side, the silver glinting off the light. As much as I wanted to slay the bastard myself, I know this is a kill that Emo needs after watching those tapes. Hopefully it’ll appease some of his anger.
Holding the blade between his teeth, Emo rips away Alec’s shirt. A crazed look darkens his already ominous gaze when he takes the knife and drags it down his torso. The cut isn’t deep, but damn sure painful. Alec’s eyes widen and the sound that leaves his lips is distorted. What it must feel like to want to scream out in pain and not be able to. It’s like stubbing your toe and the pain being so great you expect the appendage to be barely hanging on by a thread, only for it to not even be scratched.
Blood leaks from his wounds, sliding down his body to pool on the table beneath him. Emo likes his kills to be messy. Normally the sight of Emo’s work is repulsive, but the images of Aiden’s lifeless body has me wishing I was the one tearing Alec apart.
It’s not long before he’s dead. Not from his crushed windpipe, but from Emo slicing and dicing him. I don’t stop him when I know Alec is dead. I let him continue to cut away at the demons that are plaguing him.
By the time he’s done, he’s covered in blood and Alec looks like he’s been dissected. Emo’s hair falls in his face as he looks down at the mess he’s made. Satisfaction mars his face. The only sound in the room is the low hum of the heater and Emo’s harsh breathing.
“Are you good?” I ask quietly
“Yes,” he grunts. Standing to his feet, he jumps from the table, blood splattering from his hands and onto the floor.
“Let’s go and I’ll call it in.”
With a curl of disgust when he looks at Alec one last time, he turns on his heel and leaves the room without a word. I follow behind him and we leave through the front door. It’s dark outside and the closest neighbor is a good hundred yards away, so there’s no worry of being spotted. At my truck, parked at a playground a couple blocks away, Emo strips down and uses his t-shirt to wipe away the blood from his hands. Donning clean clothes, he climbs into the cab where I’m already waiting. Before we leave, I call Dax and let him know it’s done. After hanging up with him, I grab the secured phone from the glove box and dial the police to leave an anonymous tip about hearing screams coming from Alec Hallson’s house.
Starting the truck, I point us in the direction of the hotel we’re staying in tonight. Emo’s still riding his adrenaline high from slaughtering Alec, so the drive is quiet.
With one bird down and one more to go, the silence gives me time to think about the confrontation with Diego’s father tomorrow.
I RAP MY KNUCKLES AGAINST the door and wait. Emo’s at my side, tense but alert. After his shower last night, once we made it to the hotel, he let me re-bandage the wounds on his arms, but not his hands. So far, the key has stayed in his pocket, but I have no doubt it’ll be in his hand before the day is over.
“We keep this as civil as we can,” I tell him in a low voice.
His mouth tightens. He doesn’t want to be here anymore than I do, but he has my back, just as I knew he would. Emiliano has a reputation for being a ruthless bastard. My brothers and I have had many discussions about taking him out, but as much as we detest the guy, his role in San Antonio is too important. The city is full of criminals, and of course, Emiliano is one of them, but he’s known for despising anyone who hurts women and children. That’s probably his only redeeming quality and it works in our favor. He’s been connected to several murders of known thugs who have harmed women and children.
“We’ll see.” Emo answers, his hands fisted at his sides.
The door opens just then, and I turn to face a hulk of a man in a black suit. At least seven-foot tall and weighing over three-hundred pounds—most of it muscle—tree trunk arms, military cut blond hair, and bottomless gray eyes, his expression is blank as he stares at us. “May I help you?”
“We’re here to see Mr. Tomas.”
“Senior or junior?” he asks tonelessly.
“Well, since junior is currently in my town wreaking havoc, I’d have to say senior.”
“And whom may I ask is calling?”