Page 68 of Sweet Touch of Venom
Fred’s lips shake, parting, then closing. “It’s required. It’s how Victor works.”
My butcher knife swipes down, the air swooshing as I do it. “Where can we find Vicky boy?” I ask.
“Can I at least have some water?” He huffs, his eyes drooping.
I peer back at Ronan; it’s his torture chamber. If it’s me, I’ll just spit on him. There’s your water.
Ronan lifts his chin, grazing his thumb under the scruff with thought, then he shrugs.
“I don’t see why not, right?” Dropping his arms, he walks over past his shelf of demise and to a miniature fridge. He grabs out two bottles of cold water and heads back.
My lips part in wonder. Who the hell is this man? Fucking Jekyll and Hyde 3.0.
He catches the stun in my eyes and smirks darkly. “What, I get thirsty down here. Don’t judge.” He hands me water of my own.
“No judgment here,” I say, folding my lips as the smile forms. I grab the bottle as Ronan opens the one for Fred and then proceeds to our hostage, who looks thrilled from Ronan’s generosity, only for Ronan to pour the water directly over Fred’s head.
My eyes widen with a gaping mouth.Savage. I drink my water, basking in it all.
Fred screeches as the cold as water drenches him. Ronan crushes the empty plastic, then throws it at his head.
He kneels before him. “There’s your water. Now answer the question.” He grits through his teeth.
Fred begins to sob uncontrollably. “Please, God. God, help me.” There’s not a limb in my body that has sympathy for this man. He’s pitiful. Everything he has done always has a consequence. He may have lived this long untouched. But we’re here now.Weare the reapers to the rest of their measly story. The fate that is destined for them. Created through pain and death, it’s only us to right the wrongs.
It was never in my mind that Ronan would be the one to burn the bodies while I blow away the ashes. Yet here we are.
I set my water on the floor, walking over and resting the flat of the butcher under Fred’s chin to lift it. “Calling for him won’t help you.” I stare into his glossy, bloodshot eyes, the dried blood and sweat glistening in his face. I back away before he gets ballsy and spits on me.
Ronan comes beside me, brushing his hand across my knuckles. A twist knots in my throat. The tingles spread up and down my arm.
“You can call for him while I’m separating your kneecaps from your legs,” Ronan says, eyeing the brick.
He heaves in panic. “Okay. Victor is settled at Dreary Hill,” he whispers in defeat, his chin dropping to his chest.
“Good. See, that wasn’t so hard,” Ronan says nonchalantly. “Now, what do you know about the blueprints?”
His head perks up fast. He wheezes heavily. “I-I don’t know w-what you’re talking about.”
Ronan growls, stepping toward him and slamming the brick down on his already destroyed knee. My heart skips at the abrasion and the shrill of his scream. I can’t help but smile.A true smile.
“I’ll give you one more time, Fred. Answer with truth!” he barks with demand. It’s boisterous, and it astounds the shit out of me. Damn.
He trembles, letting out yet another cry. “And stop crying; your face looks like shit when you do.” Ronan throws his hand up, agitated.
“You better answer, asshole,” I speak up, crossing my arms.
He sucks in a deep breath, wincing from the pain scorching through him. “You and partner were the creators of the car.” He swallows loudly.
“Something we already know, Freeeeed,” I sing out loud.
“Worth a fortune.” He coughs up crimson, the drops splattering on his dingy suit before continuing. “Certain people,” he looks at Ronan, “wanted you both dead and were paying a pretty penny for your heads.”
“Who paid you to go after them?” I ask, releasing an impatient sigh.
“No one,” he says quickly. Too quickly.
“There’s no reason to lie. They can’t protect you,” Ronan states, shaking his head.
