Savages (Depraved Sinners 3)

Roman laughs and the sound sends a shiver down my spine. “If you wanted to suck my dick, all you needed to do was ask.”

The guard tenses and Marcus leans over him, pressing his hands over the guy’s wrists, keeping him still as Roman steps right in front of him. My jaw clenches, every moment of Roman’s dramatics just adding another second before I can finally get to my girl.

The guard lowers his gaze, assuming that Roman is about to whip his cock out and force him to swallow it, but he would never. Roman has shoved his dick into the most questionable places over the years, but he’d never risk it getting bitten off like this. Though, if it sends a wave of panic soaring through the guard’s veins, then I’m all for it. Besides, Roman wouldn’t shit all over Shayne by giving this guy something that so clearly belongs to her, despite how much they both deny it. Roman has one hell of a serious hard-on for that girl, and that’s only made clearer by the way he takes the guard’s pointer finger and presses the tip of the pin just below his nail.

The guard frets, fighting around both Marcus and Roman’s hold, but he’s trapped, his broken ribs and punctured lung making his efforts laughable.

“Tell us where he’s keeping her,” I mutter, my voice dark and filled with a lethal promise to destroy him.

Roman waits a beat, but when he refuses to respond, he presses against the pin, piercing through the tip of his finger and pushing it deep below the surface. The pin scrapes along the bone and I watch with a sick satisfaction as I see it moving below the skin.

The guard roars, tears springing from his eyes, and Marcus laughs in his ear. But I can’t tear my eyes away. My heart races, the sick sense of torture filling my veins with an addictive power. The pin plunges right down to the guard’s knuckle and I smile, knowing the one quick move from Roman would have the pin tearing right through his flesh with his whole nail detaching and flying across the room. I bet he could even hit the far wall with that little bastard.

Fuck, that’s gotta hurt. I’ve been on my big brother’s bad side more times than I can count, but I’ve never pissed him off enough to try this shit on me. He wouldn’t though. Blood is thicker than water, and no matter what, we have one another’s backs.

The guard wails, growing weaker by the second, and Roman releases the pin, leaving it protruding from his finger. “What’s it going to be?” he questions. “Still have tight lips or is that tongue of yours gonna loosen up?”

The guard glances away and Roman laughs before curling his fingers and gently flicking the end of the pin sending a searing wave of pain through the guy’s finger. I can’t help the smirk that stretches across my lips. Roman’s always had a way with torture that Marcus and I simply don’t possess. Marcus is wild and gets carried away. The second he sees just a little bit of blood splatter, there’s no controlling him. He’s gotta decorate the whole fucking room. Me? I like my kills simple. Straight to the point where I don’t have to clean up afterward, though if the crime calls for a messy punishment, then I’m more than happy to play along.

Roman though, he likes his victims begging for mercy and believes that if they’re not still cursing his name in hell and making the dead fear him, then he didn’t do his job well enough.

Knowing the guy isn’t about to talk, Roman digs into his pocket again and pulls out a second pin. I roll my eyes. If the first pin didn’t get him talking, then the second pin isn’t going to work. This one is purely for fun.

Roman steps right between the guy’s knees and bends to meet him eye to eye before reaching to his belt buckle. Not a word is said as Roman strips the man of his belt and pulls his jeans down to his knees. He looks down at the small appendage flopped against his right thigh, and his face twists with disgust. Roman holds out the pin between them, giving the guard a close-up view of it, letting him see just how thick, long, and sharp it really is. “Have you ever played pin the tail on the donkey?” Roman muses as the guy’s eyes go wide with crippling fear. “Our version is a little different. Just as fun though.”

“It’s okay,” Marcus murmurs in his ear. “It’s not like you’re going to be able to use it after this anyway.”

The guard whimpers, his brows creasing with fear as Roman reaches down and takes the guy’s limp dick in his hand. I let out a sigh, never happier that Roman drew the short straw on this one. I can’t say that I envy him right now, though knowing Roman, he’s looking past the fact that he has another man’s dick in his hand and is already getting off on the fear he’s invoking.

What can I say? Roman might be the most cautious and put together of the three of us, but he’s just as sick as Marcus.

The tip of the pin presses to the tip of his dick and Roman grins before slowly glancing up to meet the guard’s eyes. He’s sweating, knowing just what this means for him, not that it matters. The only way he’ll be leaving this warehouse is in a body bag.

He shakes his head, pleading with my eldest brother to spare him the agony, but Roman isn’t one to pick up subtle clues. “Please,” he whimpers, tears brimming in his bloodshot eyes. “No. Please. No.”

Roman arches a brow and as Marcus holds him down, he pushes the sharp tip of the pin into the small opening at the tip of his dick. The guard screams out, his blood-curdling tone echoing through the empty warehouse. “STOP. STOP. Please. I’ll do anything.”

Roman doesn’t relent. He already knows what we want.

Marcus’ hand goes under his throat as my fingers curl around the knife on the counter behind me, the baseball bat long forgotten. Marcus yanks his head back, meeting his terrified eyes as Roman pushes the pin deeper into his junk. “WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?” Marcus roars.

The guard cries. “I … I don’t know,” he says, tears streaming down his face. “I only heard whispers.”

Roman pushes deeper. “Tell me what I want to know, and I can make it all go away.”

“A cabin,” he rushes out, his breathing labored and strained.

Roman lowers his face, his jaw clenched in frustration. “Where?” he spits.

“I … I … I don’t know. In the desert somewhere. They don’t tell me anything,” he sobs.

Then just like that, Roman tears the pin from his dick and the guy lets out a strained breath, but his relief is short-lived as I move into Roman’s spot and slit his throat with one simple flick of my wrist. Roman drops the bloodied pin and reaches out, then just as Marcus promised, Roman pushes his hand through the opening of his wound and tears his throat out, ending the guard’s miserable life.

“Well, fuck,” Marcus spits, releasing the guy’s head and stepping back only to wipe the blood from his hands onto the guy’s shirt. “She’s in the desert? How the hell are we supposed to find her out there?”

Roman shakes his head, dropping the guard’s throat at his feet and shaking the remaining blood off his hand as though it disgusts him. “No fucking idea,” he mutters, his jaw clenched, knowing that while we got the answers we were looking for, it’s only left us ten steps back. “I wasn’t even aware that Father had a cabin, but I’m not surprised. This is just the kind of shit he’d do to fuck with us.”

Tossing the knife back onto the counter, I let out a frustrated breath. “If only she still had that fucking tracker…”