Grinch (Cerberus MC)

Legend claps me on the back, a sign that he’ll be just as thorough as I would’ve been if I were the one responsible for obtaining intel from the older man.

“Greg,” Kid says as he steps up to the handcuffed man.

I know how bad this looks. I know the type of lawsuits us talking to this man could bring, but the fear of that won’t stop us from squeezing out every ounce of information from him. It’s fucked up. We’re going to end up violating this man’s rights. He hasn’t been mirandized or instructed he can call a lawyer. Hell, at this point, he’s only being detained, not arrested.

It won’t stop us. I’m willing to cut this man’s fingers off one by one and blame his father in the next room for those injuries to get what I need.

“I ain’t telling you shit,” the man spits, but the terror in his eyes betrays his attempt at looking tough.

He can sense that this isn’t going to be a normal arrest, and fear is rolling off of him in waves.

“You can’t do this,” he says when Kid inches closer, pulling a knife from his utility vest.

“You’re wrong though,” Kid says softly as he flips out the blade. “We can do whatever we want. It’s not legal, but physically, we can do whatever we want to you.”

“I say start slow,” I rasp. “Maybe his fingernails, but then after seeing that other woman, I guess a few well-placed cuts could be the best way to go.”

Kid inches forward, the blade of his knife angled at the man’s crotch. “Cutting certain parts off would probably be seen as justice after what he’s done to those women.”

The man whimpers, trying to back away, but his back is already pushed against the sofa, hands cuffed behind him.

He’s helpless, much like the women he’s been holding captive.

His eyes widen as Kid spins the knife on the man’s thigh, mere inches from his dick.

“I don’t hurt them like that,” he hisses. “Daddy does. Cutting isn’t my thing.”

“You don’t hurt them with a knife?” Kid asks, not backing away an inch. “But you fuck them.”

The man cries out in pain as Kid digs the tip of his knife deeper. A series of pained yells come from the room next door as well. The man’s eyes dart in that direction, but Kid presses harder, regaining his full attention.

“Tell me about the girl you bought in North Carolina.”

“What girl?”

I take a step forward, unsure if the woman he brought here was also from North Carolina. I’m antsy, shifting on my feet. We were given five minutes, and it feels like we’ve been in here for hours. I don’t want to run out of time before we get the information he may have.

“The blonde with the butterfly tattoo,” I growl.

The man shifts on the sofa as if just mentioning her makes his body react, and it confirms one of my worst fears. He has seen Grace, and he’s seen her naked. The tattoo I mentioned is on her lower abdomen, strategically placed right about her pelvic bone. She already had it when we met, but I spent a lot of time with my eyes on those blue wings.

“She got away,” he says, his blood blooming around the tip of Kid’s knife and staining his dirty jeans.

“Explain,” Kid hisses.

“She got out somehow,” he says, his jaw ticking like he’d take Kid’s head off if he was ever given the chance. “I don’t know if it was when I stopped for gas or when I stopped to piss.”

“Where did you stop that she could’ve gotten out?” I snap.

“Kentucky,” he says, and I straighten, pulling my phone from my pocket to relay the information to Max. “Or Missouri. Or Nebraska. It’s not like I pull up the damn tarp each time I stop. She was drugged.”

“With what,” Kid growls.

“Something those guys in North Carolina gave her. I don’t drug women.”

Kid shakes his head when I take a step closer, a warning to keep my cool. Does this man really think that raping women is okay so long as they’re cognizant when it’s happening?

“Where did you stop last?” I know the people who sold her probably gave her enough drugs to keep her sedated long enough for him to get her home, and that means if she escaped, it wouldn’t have been during the first half of that trip.

“A couple miles from the border.”

“The Wyoming-Nebraska border?”

The man nods, his face contorting with pain as Kid leans a little harder on the knife.

“That’s all I know!” he screams. “I’m going to sue your—”

The door opens, the SWAT guy leaning in looking worried. “The fucking feds are here.”

Kid nods, pulling his knife back and wiping it clean on the guy’s shirt.

“I’m fucked,” the SWAT guy says. “I never should’ve done this.”