Savage cut through the ties holding Bitters to the chair and then sent the chair away with a hard kick. He caught the pedophile by his hair and dragged him to his feet. “You take those little children away from their parents and put them in cages and then you force yourself on them.”
Bitters threw out both hands and screamed at the top of his lungs. “Children are sexual beings. They love it, they want it. You don’t understand. Let me explain. Don’t kill me. Please. Just let me explain.” They’d all heard that speech on the website, Bitters spewing his beliefs to other pedophiles to justify their actions.
Savage hit him square in the mouth, driving through his teeth so that the front ones snapped off. He had a big fist and he could hit hard. He’d honed his fighting skills from the time he was a child, and he knew how to throw a punch with maximum force. Bitters went flying backward and hit the cement hard.
Savage followed him up, not hurrying, not paying any attention to the blood and saliva leaking from Bitters’s mouth on the cement. He kicked him hard, driving his motorcycle boot into the other side, caving in those ribs as well. He didn’t stop there. He systematically began to kick and then punch Bitters, beating him over and over.
“Oh my God.” The voice was faint. Richie turned white. “I don’t know the collector’s name, but I do know who does. His name is Avery Charles. He runs the website for someone in Russia. He makes snuff films whenever the Russian tells him to. If we sell the kids to him, we get top dollar.”
The truth came out in a rush of fear, but then he realized what he’d revealed and tried to backpedal. “Not me. I’ve never done it. Paul makes money that way. Sometimes he just grabs kids off the street and sells them to Avery. We . . . he doesn’t sell the kids we . . . he gets from the collector. That price is too steep.”
Even Savage had paused in his pursuit of royally fucking up Bitters to listen to Richie. The three Torpedo Ink members exchanged long looks. They had run across a “Russian connection” before. More, most of the children in the “school” where they had been held had been tortured, raped and then disposed of, but a few had been used in snuff films. In investigations, snuff films were deemed to be not real. They knew better. They had lived through such films when other children, friends they’d been in school with, had not.
Ice looked down at Richie without seeing him. Instead, he was back at that school, tied to a pole, whipped, beaten, raped and used repeatedly. That was bad. He thought it was the worst, but it hadn’t been, not by a long shot. Not when there was Alena and Storm . . . He wiped the sudden sweat from his eyes and shook his head to clear it. There was no stopping the roaring in his head.
“Richie.” His voice was very low. His blue eyes had gone pure crystal. Bile was in his throat. “I think you’d better come clean. It wasn’t only Bitters who snatched kids off the street and sold them, knowing Avery Charles was going to have them tortured, raped and killed in a film for other sickos to get off on. You did too. How many? Where did you find them? I’m not fucking around with you. You don’t answer me and keep in mind I can hear lies, you’re going to be in a world of hurt like you’ve never known.”
The memories crowded in, so that his gut churned, and his wedding cake threatened to come back up. The demons Soleil had managed to chase away returned in full force. His sins crushed him with their weight. Rage burned in his belly. He could barely see through the haze of red across his eyes, but Maestro and Savage looked equally as enraged, not that Richie could tell. It was in their eyes, and he was too scared to look that close.
“From the park. We’d get them in the park. The young ones. Avery wanted them about six or seven. Girls or boys. He paid top dollar when the Russian wanted new films.”
“How often did the Russian want new films?” Ice asked. He put his hands out in front of him and spread his fingers wide. Rock steady. He’d learned to always keep his hands steady. It didn’t matter how much blood was in the room, or who was giving orders, or if he knew what was coming, he’d learned absolute control. Absolute.
“It wasn’t often. Not often,” Richie said. “I didn’t like that kind of thing, but Bitters wanted us all to be in as deep.”