Page 242 of John + Siena: The Complete Duet

Uncaring that it would hurt the man, he reached into the trunk, and dragged the man out by his already broken arm. That had happened in the struggle of John wrapping a wire around the guy’s throat, and dragging him across a concrete parking lot.

Shit, the guy should have just come with no fight.

That was always easier.

“And which one is this?” Lucian asked, coming closer.

“Kev’s man, specifically,” John answered.

He let the guy fall to the floor of the warehouse. The thump of the unconscious man was almost sickening, in a way.

“Brad, or some shit,” John said. “He’s the one Kev uses whenever he wants something done. I’ve watched him for a week, so I feel pretty good we’ll get something useful from him.”

“As long as you don’t kill him first.”

There was that, too, yeah.

John reared back, and kicked the unconscious enforcer in the side of his chest. Likely breaking a rib or two. Brad’s hazy eyes flew wide, and his mouth opened with a shout. The guy coughed, and clutched at his chest as he rolled over to his side.

He didn’t seem to know where he was, or what the fuck was happening.

This could be a little confusing.

“Where’s the fucking hose?” John asked.

Lucian nodded to something over John’s shoulder.

“Keep him awake,” John said.

His father started nudging the groaning enforcer with the tip of his shoe in all the sensitive spots. Like his aching chest, and his broken arm. John found the hose, turned on the water, and headed back to Brad.

Lucian stepped back from the man at the same time John turned the hose on him. Ice-cold water blasted Brad right in the face, and then the rest of him, too. John didn’t stop until the guy was fully awake, and soaked to the goddamn bone.

Sometimes, cold water could be as good as torture.

It all depended on the man.

“Stop, fuck, stop!”

John lowered the hose. “Who did Kev have make the hit on my sister’s husband?”

Brad blinked up at John from his back. Water coated his eyelashes, and dripped from his cheeks. “You think I’ll tell you that, Marcello?”

To his father, but never looking away from Brad, John said, “In the back of my car—grab the black bag, thanks.”

“You got it, son.”

“I think you’re going to tell me quite a bit, actually,” John told Brad. “I mean, by the time I’m done with you. And don’t think that just because you give me information means I won’t kill you in the end. No, that’s not the case. I will kill you regardless. How fast I kill you depends on the kind of information you give me. Do you understand?”

Brad sneered.

John smiled.

Soon, Lucian had dropped the black bag at John’s feet. Bending down, John upended the bag and let the contents spill out where Brad could get a good look at them.

Just to make the point of each thing clear, John went through all of them. “A couple of knives—I like to watch people bleed, you know. Small ice picks because when I drive them up under your fingernails, you’ll choke on your own vomit. A stun-gun. We all know what that does, right? It’ll be better, though, because you’re soaked with water, now. Vice grips—they’re great to pull out shit. Teeth, whatever. And a gun.”

John smiled at the man again, knowing damn well he looked cold. “Take your pick.”