“Yeah.” Copper strode, as best as he could with a bum leg, to the wall where a hose hung on a large hook. He grabbed it with bloodied-knuckled hands. Shell would be giving him a lecture over that for sure. Unless he told her the reasoning behind it, which Rocket assumed he would. He had a feeling the prez didn’t keep much from his ol’ lady. Once she found out why his knuckles were torn to shreds, she’d probably drop to her knees instead of railing at him.
“You ready?” Copper asked as he aimed the sprayer Lefty’s way.
Rocket nodded. Fuck yes, he was ready. He’d been ready for this shit since the moment he opened the motel room door and discovered an abused Chloe. With a smile that could only be classified as diabolical, Copper squeezed the lever and let loose a blast of frigid water.
Icy droplets sailed off the stream in every direction, pelting Rocket’s face and arms like tiny needles. He didn’t so much as flinch at the discomfort, welcoming it instead. The pricks of pain kept him grounded and present in the moment.
The water sprayed directly into Lefty’s face, eliciting a shriek from a man who looked ready for a casket. He slapped at the water with his hands as though he could somehow stop the ice-cold assault. Copper let it go on for another thirty seconds before killing the spray.
“Welcome back,” he said. “Brought someone to see you.”
Lefty’s head wobbled atop his neck like a bobble head doll. He coughed weakly, attempting to spit water from his mouth. The action had no power behind it, and the spittle just rolled down his chin. After the coughing fit subsided, he moaned and clutched his sides.
“Not much of a big man now, is he?” Copper asked.
Rocket grunted.
He took five steps forward, until he was just two feet away from Lefty. The man’s eyes were hazy, but alert enough to recognize his fate. Shivers racked his body, bouncing him on the metal chair. He gave one last attempt to save himself by trying to push to stand. All he managed to do was flop to the wet ground in a wet, naked, quaking heap.
Both Copper and Rocket laughed.
“What do ya want? Gun? Knife? Wrench?” Copper asked as he pointed to a pile of tools on the ground. “I got it all.”
Without a word, Rocket stalked to the goodies and selected a K-bar knife. A favorite of his. He walked back until he stood over Lefty’s crumpled body.
“Want him back in the chair?”
Rocket shook his head. No, this would do nicely.
He took a deep breath and prepared to settle in for a long afternoon of making this man as miserable as humanly possible. But as he looked down, it wasn’t Lefty he saw, but Chloe. And not the abused and traumatized version of Chloe, but the version who had given herself to him. The version that allowed him to touch her despite her fear and past. The version covered in sweat as she wailed on a heavy bag, determined to beat back every demon. The version who flew into his arms when he returned from Mexico as though she couldn’t bear one more second of separation. The version who clashed with Lefty and won. And the version who risked losing him to save his worthless ass.
Suddenly, an urgent need to be with her clawed at him like a wounded animal trying to escape a trap. All of his priorities fell into place in that moment. Lefty’s fate was set. Rocket was seconds from terminating him. But it didn’t need to take all night. Didn’t need to be drawn out into an elaborate torture session. All that would do was delay him getting to his woman.
And being with her was imperative.
Knife in hand, he crouched, careful to keep from resting his knees in the chilly puddle. “Sorry we were interrupted before,” he said with a snicker.
“F-fuck you,” Lefty said but it came out as a wheezy whisper of words.
“Yikes, you’re not sounding too good. And I’m pretty sure you’re not up for fucking anything right about now.” He placed the tip of the knife to Lefty’s sternum.
Rocket leaned in close to Lefty’s ear while dragging the knife down the man’s body, making sure to score the skin in the process. Might as well have a little fun while he was at it. He stopped when he reached his prisoner’s groin. Lefty’s pitiful moan made him smile. “No one gives a shit that you’re missing. No one’s gonna give a shit that you’re dead. Hell, I bet everyone you know will dance on your grave. But me and my brothers? We’re strong as ever. Free to do whatever the hell we want. Fuck our women. Drink our booze. Make money. Live the good life.”