Nobody speaks in an effort to absorb the information being thrown at us. It’s a compelling arrangement, that’s for sure, but whether or not we’d be fucked over in the process is another question. It’s probably better than remaining here like sitting ducks as we have been.
“In an effort to earn your trust . . .” Scavo says and trails off. He raises his arms slowly in the air and reaches inside his suit jacket. I hear the men around me respond in kind, but I’m so focused on what I’m doing that it barely registers. Within three seconds, I have my gun out and pointed at Scavo’s head with the safety off. The man moves slowly and pinches something inside his jacket. Only Michael and Pop don’t have weapons drawn on Scavo. Is Pop really that fucking confident that the asshole isn’t going to blow him away? He’s sitting directly in front of him, a few feet away, and is the easiest target.
Scavo pulls out a few folded pieces of paper and hands them to Pop. From over his shoulder, I peer down at the pages as they unfold, and I tuck my gun back into the waistband of my jeans. The first page is a grainy but still readable amateur photograph of an unremarkable sedan that looks like it’s leaving the 101 Club. I check the plates on the sedan to ensure the characters are legible so I can investigate this later. Pop flips to the next page, and it appears I don’t have to do the leg work. Scavo’s already done it for me. The white eight-and-a-half-by-eleven page has two photocopied documents on it. The first is a vehicle registration card that lists the owner as some fuck in San Francisco. The second is the man’s driver’s license.
“Shit,” Pop says as we seem to come to the same conclusion.
“I’ll take it that you recognize him. As you should since he’s responsible for the botched hit on Forsaken at the 101 Club.”
“It was him,” I say, barely able to form the words as I stare at the DMV photo of the last man I killed. He hurt her. This . . . bastard took something from Mindy she won’t ever get back. He tortured her, humiliated her, and destroyed her. For that, I killed him. My only regret is that I did it swiftly as I moved down the hall and into the office at Universal Grounds. I should have made him suffer the way she did. I should have kept him alive and let him beg for death. I should have let myself indulge a little before it ended.
I still hear his voice, breaking up my rest, on the nights I fall into a deep enough sleep to actually dream. The nightmares used to be commonplace, but now they’ve evolved into something akin to night terrors, with violent thrashing and a suffocating need to make somebody suffer. My pain is enough to piss me off and make me edgy. Holly’s pain, her tears, and her panic attacks send me to a place where I think that maybe I should rip off all my flesh, and it still wouldn’t distract me from my anger.
But it’s when I think of Mindy and how she’s suffered that I go looking for something to do. Somebody to torture. Even when I’m done and I should be sated, I’m not. Pain makes everything go away—except for this.
I couldn’t save Mindy from that horror, and for that, I’ll never forgive myself. The only thing worse than what she suffered at his hands is what she could suffer at mine if she were stupid enough to ever want me in all the ways I want her.
Thankfully for her, she’s not that stupid.
Thankfully for me, I relish the pain that comes with the bitter loneliness of not being able to touch her, love her, consume her the way she consumes me.
Chapter 5
“I’m proud of you for doing this.” Holly keeps her voice cheerful and steady. I don’t respond because I don’t know how. What am I to say to that? Yeah, I’m a badass for agreeing to eat hot soup. She seems to catch on to my lack of enthusiasm over our little attempt at home-based therapy. “This is a big deal for you, so stop acting like it’s not.”
“I feel like a goober,” I admit.
“Easier to be terrified of heat and moisture than to work yourself through it.” Her head bobs in agreement, but it’s her tone and eyes that give her away. She’s mocking me.
“Judge not lest ye shall be judged,” I snap and wipe my damp hands on my jean-clad thighs. Holly’s eyes bug out of her pretty little skull, and she shakes her head disapprovingly. Pre-Heath Mindy cursed occasionally, but post-Heath Mindy never did. She wanted to distance herself from the disaster she had become. But neither Mindy quotes scripture.
“Fuck. I sound like my mother.” I cover my face with my hands and suck in calming breaths. Well, they’re supposed to be calming, but they’re not doing their job.
“The only way that could have been scarier is if your head had spun around and you’d been spitting green stuff everywhere.”