Maniacs (Depraved Sinners 4)

“She could have someone staking out all of our properties.”

I shrug my shoulders, my gut telling me that it’s something much more sinister than that. “Maybe,” I say. “But if that were the case, she would have grabbed me when I went to your father’s place. It would have been a shitload easier. I was alone.”

Roman watches me for a brief second before his eyes bug out of his head. “FUCK,” he spits before slamming on the brakes and pulling off to the side of the road. He storms out of the car, walking around to the backdoor and ripping it open.

“What the fuck is going on?” I demand as he reaches in and grips my elbow, yanking me across the backseat. He pulls me out of the car, his hands roaming over every inch of my body as traffic flies by us, honking horns and screaming curses out their open windows.

“You’re right,” he says, as Marcus watches us from the open door. “She has been tracking you, but not by following your every fucking move. She’s got a fucking GPS tracker on you, just like we had.”

My eyes bug out of my head as I frantically begin searching my body. “What the fuck?” I screech as Marcus curses softly to himself. “No. No, that can’t be right. I would know. I was never knocked out and never … no. I would know if she put something into me. It’s not possible.”

Marcus scoffs, shaking his head. “Trust me, babe. It’s very fucking possible.”

“Here,” Roman says, his hands pausing on my back, just below my ribs in the fleshy part of my skin. He pokes and prods at something hard, his face grim realizing that he was right. “I have to get this out,” he tells me, his stare coming back to mine. “She’ll know we’re coming.”

I nod, agreeing wholeheartedly and letting out a sigh as he leads me around the other side of the car to block our view of the traffic storming by. Marcus’ hand falls out the window with a knife resting between his fingers and Roman gingerly takes it.

This is gonna suck, but at least it’ll be done quick … a shitload quicker than when it was me trying to cut it out of my own freaking arm.

We step right up to Marcus’ window, and I grip on to his hands as Roman braces me against the side of the car. “On three—”

“No,” I rush out, clenching my eyes. “Just do it.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. The sharp tip digs into my skin, and I bite down on my lip, squeezing Marcus’ hand and trying to think of anything that could distract me from the agony.

“Sorry, Empress,” Roman murmurs, his tone dark and pained, not liking the idea of hurting me any more than I do, but Roman isn’t the kind to back down. He’ll do what needs to be done, no matter what it costs him.

I swallow hard, forcing the pain out of my head. “You know this means that Gia knows where the warehouse is,” I spit through my clenched jaw. “She could destroy your whole operation with just a click of her fingers. She’ll use it against you.”

Marcus’ thumb moves over my knuckles, drawing my attention to his gentle, calming touch. “Not if I have anything to do with it.”

The sharp tip of the knife pulls away from my skin, and I let out a shaky breath as Roman holds a tiny little device between his fingers, blood covering both the tracker and his hands. He studies it a moment before flicking the small device through the open window of a passing car. He wipes the blood from the blade onto his dark pants and hands it back to Marcus before glancing back at me. “Turn around. I need to stitch that.”

I shake my head and move out of his hold. “We don’t have time. We need to get to the warehouse and see what information Mick has found. It’s just a small cut. It can wait.”

Roman’s lips press into a hard line, and before he gets the chance to argue, I’m already around the other side of the car and slipping back into the open door. I close it with a heavy thump and not a moment later, Roman is back in the driver’s seat, pulling out into the midday city traffic.

The back roller door is already open and waiting for us as we barrel into the warehouse. Mick stands by a controller and as soon as the Escalade has cleared the door, he hits a button, bringing the roller door down.

We’re out of the car within seconds, following Mick to his office in the center of the main floor. “What have we got?” Roman asks as the warehouse workers watch on with wide eyes, curiosity getting the better of them. By just the look on the boys’ faces, it’s clear that something is about to go down.

The last few times we’ve come through here, we’ve been secretive, hiding in the shadows, but not anymore. Right now, we don’t give a shit. We have one goal in mind, and not a damn thing is going to stand in our way.

We step into Mick’s tech room, and I’m not surprised to find the big space swarming with computer dudes, their hands moving over their keyboards like lightning. The room is completely closed off to the workers on the opposite side of the wall. I remember walking in here the first time and being in complete awe by the one-way glass surrounding this room. We could watch over the warehouse while the workers busily went about their day, oblivious to our stares. But now, the room is cloaked in darkness, complete privacy locking us in. We don’t see through, and they don’t see in. This right here is all about focus, no distractions.

Mick leads us over to a massive computer screen, but another catches my attention.

Levi’s face rests on the screen, his eyes closed with blood matted in his short hair, only the angle of his chin is different from the video I replayed over in my mind during the long trip here. “Is this more footage?” I question, gaining the mens’ attention. Their heads snap up and I indicate to the screen. “This is different.”

“We got into Gia’s surveillance system,” Mick explains. “That’s a live feed.”

I all but fall at the screen, rushing in closer to rake my eyes over him. “Can you zoom out? I need to see his body.”

The computer tech at the desk does exactly as I ask, and my heart shatters seeing the angry welts across his chest from the whip. There are six of them, each one staring at me like an accusation, dropping weight after weight down on my shoulders. “Shit. Is he alright?” I ask. “Have they done anything else to him since then? Given him food or water?”

“Nothing,” the tech dude beside me says. “He’s just been hanging there. Maybe this whole time.”

Roman stands behind me, his eyes narrowed and filled with questions as Marcus fidgets, his hands balling into fists at his side. “I need to fucking kill something.”