Vicious (Vicious #1)

“No,” hissed Dominic through gritted teeth. “Please. What do I have to do?”

Victor smiled. “One night’s worth of work for a lifetime without pain. What are you willing to do?” When Dominic didn’t answer, Victor clicked the dial up in his mind, watched the man wince, buckle.

“Anything,” Dominic gasped at last. “Anything.”

*

MITCH stood at the bathroom sink, pushing the sleeves of his coat up to wash his hands. He turned the faucet on, and heard the door open over the sound of the water. His form filled the mirror, edge to edge, so he couldn’t see the man behind him, but he didn’t need to. He could hear Eli Ever cross the threshold, and slide the bolt on the bathroom door, locking the world out. Locking them in.

“What did you tell him?” came Eli’s voice behind him.

Mitch turned the water off, but stayed at the sink. “Tell who?”

“The man at the bar. You were talking to him, and then he disappeared.”

The paper towels were out of reach, and Mitch knew better than to make any sudden movements, so he wiped his hands on his coat, and turned to face the other man.

“It’s a bar,” he said with a shrug. “People come and go.”

“No,” snapped Eli. “He literally disappeared. Vanished.”

Mitch forced a laugh. “Look, man,” he said, walking past Eli toward the door as if he didn’t notice the thrown bolt. “I think you’ve had a few too many—”

He heard Eli draw the gun from his coat, and his words cut off as his steps slowed, then stopped. Eli cocked the weapon. Mitch could tell it was an automatic by the metallic grating of the top half as it was shifted back and primed. He turned slowly toward the sound. The gun was in Eli’s hand, the silencer already screwed on, but instead of being trained on Mitch, it hung at Eli’s side. And that made Mitch more nervous, the casual way he held the weapon, fingers barely gripping it, not only comfortable with the gun, but in control. He looked like he felt in control.

“I’ve seen you before,” said Eli. “At the Esquire downtown.”

Mitch cocked his head and tugged one corner of his mouth up. “Do I look like I’d be caught in a place like that?”

“No. Which is exactly why I noticed you.” Mitch’s smile faded. Eli raised the gun, and took him in over the sight. “Someone swiped the visuals from the prison files and the police logs, but I’m willing to bet your name is Mitchell Turner. Now where is Victor?”

Mitch thought to feign ignorance, but in the end he decided not to chance it. He’d never been that great at telling lies, anyway, and he knew he’d have to make the few he needed count.

“You must be Eli,” he said. “Victor told me about you. Said you had a thing for killing innocent people.”

“They’re not innocent,” growled Eli. “Where is Victor?”

“Haven’t seen him since we reached the city and split ways.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“I don’t care.”

Eli swallowed, fingers drifting toward the trigger. “And Dominic Rusher?”

Mitch shrugged, but slid a step back. “Kid just vanished.”

Eli took a step forward, settled his finger against the trigger. “What did you tell him?”

A smile twitched at the corner of Mitch’s mouth. “I told him to run.”

Eli’s eyes narrowed. He twirled the gun in his hand, the barrel fetching up against his palm, and swung the handle hard against Mitch’s head. His face cracked sideways, and blood poured from the gash above his eye, running into his vision as Eli brought his boot up, hard, and sent him sprawling backward to the bathroom floor. Eli spun the gun again, and trained it on Mitch’s chest. “Where is Victor?” he demanded.

Mitch squinted through the blood. “You’ll see him soon enough,” he said. “It’s almost midnight.”

Eli bared his teeth, and bowed his head, and Mitch thought he could see him mouth the words forgive me before he looked up, and pulled the trigger.

*

VICTOR checked his watch. It was almost eleven p.m., and Mitch still hadn’t come out.

Dominic stood nearby stretching, rolling his head and shoulders and swinging his arms forward and backward and side to side, as if he’d just set down a heavy burden. Victor supposed that in many ways he had. After all, Victor knew pain enough to know how much Dominic had been in, and was frankly impressed by the man’s threshold. But while he might be able to function in pain, his powers clearly didn’t flourish under it. So Victor had taken it away. Taken it all away. He had, however, left as much sensation as possible, which was tricky, given how tightly the two things were intertwined, but he didn’t need his newest asset accidentally bleeding out just because he didn’t notice he’d cut himself.