“This is a nice, uh, crucifixion theme you have going.” I forced myself to smile.
Undertaker slapped down the salt and lifted a knife from the floor. He twirled it between his fingers. It was a wicked stiletto that I thought might belong to King. He dragged the knife along the man’s right side and slid it in far enough that the manscreamed again. When Undertaker was done, he set the knife down and turned to stare at me. His blue eyes were bright and soulless.
“That’s more accurate. You’re an artist of the body, PD. Did I do a good job?” He tilted his head at me.
“Yes,” I whispered, but my voice was scratchy and I had to clear my throat.
King snorted and stomped over to stand near the man’s head. He ran his fingers along Undertaker’s jaw, a light caress that made my blood turn to ice. Yeah, that was a little too much like those insane people who kept cobras as pets and thought they were friendly.
King took a knee. “Let’s see. They call you Bates. Right?”
The man nodded.
Bates.That didn’t seem like a terrible enough name for the man who’d helped fuck up Will.
King flicked his nose. “Tell me what you’ve been talking to that limp-dicked pissant Johnston about.” He slapped Bates on the forehead in a move that might’ve been friendly, except for the torture. “I happen to think a lot of Johnston’s son, Destiny. Rare guy, he is. Lovable. Makes me want to break things when I think about all the shit that fucking cop did to him.”
King punched Bates in the jaw, and he groaned, his head lolling to the side.
“Destiny told me one night over a bottle. I’m a sick fuck, and I would never hurt any kids, let alone my own. Johnston needs his teeth kicked in.”
Undertaker wriggled around like an excited puppy and grabbed up his knife again. He looked at me, held it out.
I shook my head. I was furious, but I wanted to kill him. They weren’t done yet.
Undertaker shrugged and casually lopped off the tip of Bates’s right nipple. He screamed and struggled, then sobbedand screamed some more. Blood and tears ran. Snot bubbled. Spit cascaded out of his mouth with his babbling. It was a lot to take in.
“Surprised he hasn’t passed out,” I said.
Undertaker nodded, but he was transfixed by the man’s face. King took the salt and upended it onto the fresh wound. The screams went silent as the man bowed enough to lift Undertaker off his knees.
My stomach turned as the scent of blood and excrement hit my nose. No, this wasn’t normally my scene, but I wouldn’t leave until I was sure this fuck was dead. “We should pop his lungs like he did to Will.”
Undertaker swiveled in my direction without getting up, for the first time looking at me with real scrutiny. “I’ve never done that. Like balloons? Both of them?” He tilted his head and glanced at the man from the corner of his eye.
Bates sobbed and shook his head. “No, no please.”
“You better chirp, little bird, before you can’t sing anymore.” Undertaker danced the handle of the knife around the man’s other nipple.
“Johnston, he wants to know what’s happening with the clubs. That’s it.” Bates widened his eyes at Undertaker, then swiveled his head to implore King.
“You’re a narc, then. I should kill you and do everyone a favor. Rick will owe me one.” King stood. “Kill him.”
“No! The Kings,” Bates babbled. “Johnston wants to know about the Kings.”
“You’re not a King. Why talk to you?” Undertaker smiled down at him.
The man hesitated, mouth open and trembling.
Undertaker twisted the ruined nipple and there were more screams that had my head throbbing.
“The truth, we need it,” Undertaker whispered, once the broken noise had faded to whimpers. “Or I’m going to find more fun places to rub this salt.”
Bates frantically shook his head and hiccupped. Sweat gleamed on his forehead. “He hates all the clubs. But you guys the most. He wants you gone. Told Rick that if he got rid of you guys and the Harlots, he’d leave the Demons alone.”
King grunted and shrugged like he was unimpressed. “Yeah, that’s always been the long game for the Demons. They want New Gothenburg. And Johnston has been coming at us from all angles for a while. You better give me something new.”
Undertaker hummed and snatched the salt container up. He took a lot of pleasure dumping a pile in his hand. The man under him sobbed and screamed again when Undertaker rubbed it against his sliced side the same way a sane person might season a pork chop.