Code had discovered the brochure online, little toddlers, both male and female. The collector had their pictures, and if someone put in an order for one of those children in his advertisement, he murdered the parents and took the child. Sometimes there were special orders; he advertised that as well. Twins were rare, very hard to come by. Usually there was an extended family that would continue to raise a fuss, not let the murders fade away, so finding the right child or children was imperative.
Marshal hesitated, his expression betraying him. Ice moved again with blurring speed. The knife slipped in about two inches higher up the thigh. Marshal screamed and screamed. Blood ran down his leg. He stared in horror at the hilt that couldn’t be seen when it was in Ice’s hand. Now it was sticking out of him. He began to cry.
Ice removed the knife again, very slowly, wiping the blood from the blade on the pedophile’s shirt. “Is this brochure familiar to you, Richie?”
Without hesitation, the man nodded over and over. “Yes, I’ve seen it.”
“You know this man is a murderer and he’s killing to take these children, so no one remembers they even exist. Isn’t that right, Richie?” Ice’s tone was low. Mild. All the scarier because of it. His eyes were twin glaciers, so blue they looked crystal—and completely merciless.
Richie nodded over and over. “Yes, yes, I know that’s what he does.”
“I want his name.”
Richie looked terrified, and his gaze once more shifted to Bitters. Ice again moved with that blurring speed, and this time the knife went in very high up, close to Marshal’s groin. The man shrieked, sobbed, screamed—one long, intense wail that didn’t seem as if it would stop. Unfazed, Ice slowly removed the knife and again wiped it clean. He sauntered over to Savage and took the bottle of water his brother offered. He drank down a third of the liquid and then capped it.
“He’s kinda dumb. Thinks Bitters is gettin’ out of this alive and somehow is going to do worse to him than we are.” Ice shook his head.
Maestro grinned at him and shrugged. “Got to know who you’re dealing with. Guess he doesn’t get it yet.”
“Say the word, Ice, and I’ll start on him,” Savage offered. “No fuckin’ fun just sittin’ here.”
He meant it too. Savage was a mean bastard, and he didn’t mind in the least hurting someone. Didn’t matter if it was his fists or weapons, he knew more ways to take apart a human being than most people ever dreamt possible.
“You’re so impatient,” Ice said. “I think Richie will cooperate with us. He just has to come to the understanding that Bitters is going to die a very hard death. He’s not getting that.”
Savage stood up then. He’d been sitting on the table, one foot on the bench beneath it. When he stood, it was a show of muscle. His chest was thick with roped muscle, his arms big. He looked what he was, a formidable machine with no fat, all stamina and power. He sauntered over to Bitters as if he were taking a stroll in a park. Even that was menacing.
Rich’s frightened gaze jumped to Savage. He stopped screaming as if mesmerized. His eyes widened when Savage drew back his heavy boot and kicked Bitters in the ribs, hard, deliberately driving deep, smashing through bone. Bitters shrieked and writhed on the floor; the chair he was tied to looked as if it was thrashing too.
Ice found the sight strangely humorous, with the chair moving all around the floor as if it were alive. He stood over Rich but looked back at Bitters. “He just pissed himself, Richie. That’s the man you’re afraid of? I think you’re afraid of the wrong person. You want to try this again?” He kept his tone mild.
They didn’t raise their voices when they did this kind of shit. What was the point? They were in control, and in the end, they usually got the information they needed. Sometimes it took a long time, other times they got it fast. It usually didn’t matter to Ice how long it took, but tonight was his fucking wedding night.
Richie was staring at Savage, swallowing hard, bleeding from three different wounds, the blood running down his leg. He didn’t see anything but Savage as the big man crouched beside Bitters, took out a large knife and began to cut off the prisoner’s clothes in strips. He wasn’t in the least careful. Several times the tip of the knife bit into flesh, so long streaks of blood rose on the man’s skin.
“Richie, I suggest you pay attention to me. You don’t want that man working on you. I’m the nice one.”
Maestro snorted and picked up his coffee cup.
Ice gave him the finger. “You were going to give me the name of the asshole known as the collector. You don’t want to tell me you don’t know who he is, because if you do that, I’m going to use this knife on you.”