With a curse, he got off his bike and looked at the camera he knew was pointing at him, and nodded. Once he reached the door, it buzzed. Stepping inside, he jogged up the steps and walked into a large room with a table. Charger stood there staring through a two-way mirror.
“They admit to anything?” Kane looked at the three guys sitting at a table, looking nervous, except for one who sat glaring at the two-way as if he could see them. Grabbing a Balaclava skull mask off one of the hooks, he slipped it on.
When they did the interrogations, they never showed their face—another thing they did differently than the Warriors. If they had arm or hand tattoos, they covered them up so they couldn’t be identified. Most of the time, they didn’t even let those theyinterrogated know they were vampires. The less they knew about the Guardians, the better.
“No, but we didn’t really try. This is your case.” Charger replied, then nodded toward one of them. “The guy in the green shirt will probably blab first. He looks scared enough to piss himself.”
Kane glanced at the guy, then to the one who was still glaring. “How about badass there? He say anything?”
“He wants his lawyer,” Charger chuckled, shaking his head. “The bad guys just keep getting dumber and dumber.”
“Was he the one driving?” Kane asked, heading for the door.
“I assume. He owns the car, and he was driving when Val spotted them and called it in.” Charger informed him just as Kane shut the door behind him. Kane walked down the short hallway where Val stood outside the door, masked. “Good to see ya, man.”
“Good to be seen and be back,” Val nodded. “Transfer should be complete, and I won’t have to leave again.”
Kane didn’t reply, just opened the door and walked in, alert and ready for whatever was to come. They didn’t handcuff anyone, daring them to cross the line. It only gave them the excuse to kick ass, not that there was a line with the Guardians. If they wanted to kick someone’s ass in their space, they’d do it. Fuck whatever rules may or may not be in place. They dealt with evil, and evil didn’t have a rulebook, nor would they.
“Oh, look,” The man who had been staring through the two-sided mirror said, his tone cocky as he stared at Kane. “It’s one of the TikTok masked men.”
Kane didn’t know what in the fuck the guy was talking about, but he did know he didn’t like his fucking tone. Walking straight up to him, he grabbed the back of his head and slammed his face on the table. Within seconds, he pulled his head back up, then grabbed him by the throat with one hand and raised him out of his chair. Pulling a knife with his free hand, he pointed it toward one of the men who stood up.
“Move, and this knife will be in your fucking throat before your next breath,” Kane warned with a growl, not even looking at the guy. Kane heard the man’s ass hit the chair. His full focus was now on the bleeding asshole he had by the throat.
“You want to continue being a smartass, or are you ready to talk?” Kane’s voice was low and deadly as he glared at him and saw the fear in the man’s eyes.
Dropping him back into the seat, he stepped back, crossed his arms, and looked at the other two. “Who owns the black Civic?” Kane already knew the bloody dickhead owned it, but wanted to see how talkative they were going to be. The other two men pointed at dickhead almost before he finished asking the question. Kane’s eyes shot to him.
“Who are you?” He asked, wiping his bleeding nose on his sleeve, which looked a little crooked. “What is this about?”
“This is my world, motherfucker, and I ask the questions,” Kane growled, leaning threateningly toward the man. “Do you like terrorizing people with your car?”
The man looked confused, and for a second Kane wondered if they actually had the right guy until understanding flashed in his eyes. “I want my lawyer.” Was his answer which pissed Kane off.
“There is no lawyer who is going to save you. Any call I make is going to be to the morgue, but then again, that would be a wasted phone call when I can dispose of all three of you myself.” Kane glanced at the other two, who stared wide-eyed at him. “You have fucked with the wrong people, boys.”
“It was only once,” The guy in the green shirt said, his voice shaking almost as much as his body. The metal chair was actually making noise on the tile floor.
“Shut up,” Dickhead hissed as he started to stand, but Kane whipped his head around, glaring at him.
“Stand up and I will break both your fucking legs,” Kane warned him, then watched as the man quickly sat back down. He then turned back to green shirt. “I’ll make you a deal...talk and live or listen to dickhead and die. Which do you choose?”
“I’ll...I’ll talk.” He stuttered, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Ah, Mike?—"
“Don’t tell him my name, dammit!” Dickhead hissed, slamming his hand on the table as he glared at the green shirt.
“I don’t give two fucks what your names are.” Kane bitch smacked dickhead with the back of his hand. “Dead men don’t need names. Now shut the fuck up before I shut you up permanently.”
“Talk,” Kane turned his attention back to green shirt.
“Uh, my uncle offered us a thousand a piece to follow this chick around. We got paid weekly after reporting where she went, who she was with, and stuff like that.” Green shirt said, glancing at dickhead before quickly looking away, not offering anything else.
“You want me to kill him?” Kane nodded toward dickhead, but asked the question to green shirt.
“What?” His eyes popped open wide in shock and confusion. “Why? No!”
“Well, it seems to be every time you look at him, you stop fucking talking. I can help you with that.” Kane leaned toward the guy, actually leaning over him as if he were prey that Kane was about to devour. “Because one of you is going to die if I don’t get what I want, which is the name of your uncle, why someone paid you to follow the female, and who is supplying the money. Honestly, I’m getting really impatient, and that pisses me off. So, maybe I’ll just kill both of you and beat the mute one over there, who's not saying a fucking word.”