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“Fair enough. Hop in, squirt.”
“Don’t call me that.” He gave me the most disgusted look ever before circling the car. Easing into the passenger seat, he gripped the ice pick as if his life depended on it.
“Sport?”
“Shut up.”
“Kid?”
Muttering under his breath, he shook his head as I pulled away.
He didn’t start asking questions until we got on the highway. “Where are we going?”
“Camden County.”
He shot me a confused look. “Why?”
“Like I said, we’re going hunting.” I grabbed my phone and unlocked it before tossing it in his lap. “You know these two, right?”
He scrolled through the screenshots, his lip curling in recognition. “Yeah. What about them?”
“We’re going to pay them a little visit.”
“Why?”
I gave him a dark smile and ruffled his hair. “Consider it a wedding present, buddy.”
* * *
The man started to stir,thankfully bringing an end to his snoring and sputtering. Every time he twitched, the hairy gut hanging over the top of his jeans jiggled. He reeked of stale beer and cigarettes. I might have been a borderline alcoholic, but at least I maintained a sense of hygiene for fuck’s sake.
I bent over, bracing my hands on my knees, nearly turning my head upside down to see his face clearly. “Oh good. You’re up. I’ve beensobored.”
The man, Russ Brewer according to my research, jerked his head up, rattling the restraints above him. He yanked at the chains that bound his wrists, trying to lower his arms. They didn’t budge — the hook he was chained to was too secure. “What the fuck? Who the fuck are you? What’s going on?”
I smiled brightly, extending my hand. “Bennett Reeve. We haven’t had the pleasure.” Laughing, I retracted my hand again. “Silly me. You’re all tied up.”
“What the fuck is this?” He yanked against the chains again, like he stood a chance of dislodging them from the rafter. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, that it was the sedative making him so stupid, but I had a feeling I was being too generous.
“Those are chains,” I said slowly, pointing upward before spreading my arms wide, indicating the empty pole barn around us. “And this is a kidnapping. Any other questions?”
He blinked rapidly, never taking his eyes off of me. “Who are you?”
“I assume you mean more than my name, since we literally just covered that two questions ago.” God, it wasn’t as much fun when they were dense. I stroked the underside of my chin in thought, pacing back and forth leisurely. “The context I believe you’re looking for is quite simple. Leander Welles. Do you remember him?”
Recognition flashed in Russ’s eyes, followed by unbridled hatred. “What about him?”
I took a quick step forward, wagging my finger in his face. “You were not very nice to him, were you?”
“Fuck him. He got me fucking fired and then took everything I had.”
“Not everything.” A dark smile curled my lips as I booped his nose with the tip of my scolding finger. “Not yet.”
Russ swallowed, finally comprehending the seriousness of the situation in which he found himself. I don’t know if it was the table full of blades that clued him in, or the fifty-five gallon drum and the bag of agricultural chemicals next to it.
“What do you want?” he asked, his voice shaky.
“Your soul.” I smiled again, taking an immeasurable amount of joy from the look that shot across his scruffy face. I could practically smell his regret, his fear.
