Chapter 64
1807words
The bullet wound in my shoulder still burns days later. The cuts on my hands from shattered glass are barely healed. A normal man might have taken time to rest up and heal, but I don't have the luxury of wasting a single second. There are more pressing matters at hand.
Turning the wooden bat in my fist, I slap it into my opposite palm. Blood flicks from the bat, staining the front of my shirt. Mila stands behind me, watching with a bored expression on her face as I turn my attention back to the object of my fury.
'Stop, God, please fucking stop!" Sergio roars.
'Damn," I mutter. 'Maybe wearing white was a bad idea. Then again, your black clothing isn't helping you much, now that I think about it."
Sergio's shirt collar and shoulders are soaked with blood from his broken mouth. Every wheezing breath he takes or desperate cry he makes sends more red splattering onto the material. 'Asher Volkov … stop this. I'm begging you."
'Not until you tell me where Yannick took my wife."
'I don't know, you bastard!"
'Wrong answer." Giving the bat a lazy swing, I take a few practice hits at the empty air. Sergio flinches during each one. 'You know something. Otherwise you wouldn't have led us to the safe house. Camila was there. So were your buddies waiting to ambush us."
It was a miracle we got out of there alive. Mila was quick enough to narrow in on where the sniper was. She rolled next to me in the heat of the onslaught, snatching one of my guns from my belt. She managed to shoot him through the broken window while he was reloading. A single shot was all it took. Mila was deadly efficient, especially when neither of us knew just how many others there were.
And there were others. But by the time they approached the house, thinking we were injured and cornered, we were ready for them. Together, Mila and I left the would-be ambushers dead on the ground. We didn't bother to clean up the mess afterward—the cops could handle that for our troubles.
I had other pressing business.
Gritting my teeth, I rub at my bullet wound again. Between the warehouse and this last encounter, Yannick's men are leaving more scars on me than I've earned in years.
'You were hoping we'd die in there, weren't you?" I ask.
'No." Sergio shakes his head rapidly. His eyes bulge, focused on my bat. 'I would never hope that, Asher Volkov."
Smiling with an echo of cynicism, I push the wet tip of the bat into his chest until I hear a discernible pop.
'You're a terrible liar, Sergio." My lips twist into a bestial smile. 'I'm ashamed I didn't see the trap coming, in hindsight. So that's on me. But leading me to it …" I take a deep breath. 'That's on you."
I hoist the bat over my shoulder and slam it into Sergio's rib cage, where I hear the satisfying sounds of multiple ribs breaking from the impact. He doubles over, spitting blood into his lap with a bubbling gag of sticky phlegm.
'Tell me where she is, Sergio. Now. Or I'm going to start breaking other things. Delicate things. Things that you don't want me breaking."
Heaving loudly, he looks up at me through the hair matted to his forehead by sweat and blood. 'Fuck you, Asher! You think you can beat me into talking? You have nothing!" he roars, and without thinking, I slam my fist into his chin.
Bursts of pain radiate out into my own arm. It was stupid to use my bare knuckles—they'll be bruised from the impact—but I wanted to shut him up without taking away his ability to talk. With as much force as possible, I swing the bat against his left knee. The kneecap shatters like dry kindling.
Sergio shrieks in pain, but I don't stop. The next hit is on his ankle. Then the other kneecap. Dipping the bat under his chin, I wait for him to finish moaning before I tilt his face toward me.
'Tell. Me. Where. She. Is."
'I don't know!" he coughs. A tooth tumbles from his lips, clattering on the floor of my basement. This section of my wine cellar has perfect soundproofing and temperature control. But even then, it does little to soothe the adrenaline-induced heat searing across my skin.
'This is a waste of time." Mila kicks the tooth aside with a look of disgust. 'I told you we should've started with his toes, his eyelids … the space beneath his nails." She waves a knife from side to side with a predatory sneer. 'But I get first dibs on his balls."
'I'm doing the interrogation, not you," I grumble. I heft the bat once more.
Sergio's eyes widen as I prepare for round three. 'I don't know where she is because he's moving her around!" he blurts.
I hesitate. 'Continue."
'Yannick has multiple safe houses. He's carting her from one to the next to make sure you can't find them!"
Frowning thoughtfully, I lean closer to him. 'Which safe houses?"
'The old ones that were used as brothels." He licks his split, swollen lips. 'You should remember them. They made us a mint before you shut them all down."
Being reminded of how I revolted against Yannick brings me a satisfying thrill—one I desperately need. Yes. I've beaten him in the past ... I can beat him again.
Before I can ask for more details, Mila storms forward. She grabs Sergio by his scalp, forcing him to look at her from an awkward angle as she stands behind him.
'Do you miss them?" She traces her knife along his neck, leaving behind a thin red line in its wake. 'Those houses of misery and horror?"
'Fuck you, whore," he sneers at her, finding a few last scraps of cockiness. 'Maybe his precious Camila will be a better one than you. At least she looked like she could last a few rounds without falling apart like you did. And she looks like a better screamer than you."
Mila's eyes flare wider. I'm on the verge of crushing his exposed Adam's apple with the bat.
But instead, I consider what he accidentally revealed. He doesn't know Camila is Yannick's daughter. If he did, he'd never suggest she'd end up in a brothel. Now that's interesting. Yannick is keeping that detail close to his chest.
Turning on my heel, I toss the bloody bat aside, then head for the stairs. 'I've heard everything I needed to hear. Do with him what you will, Mila. But make it painful."
Sergio lets out a whimpering, 'Wait, what?"
'Oh, Sergio." Mila's delighted laughter floods the cellar. 'How many rounds do you think you'll last in my hands? How loud of a screamer do you think you are? Because I'm betting you're a loud one."
I make it to the top of the stairs before Sergio's first blood-curdling scream reaches me. But once I shut the door behind me, the sounds fade away to nothing. Yes, the soundproofing is excellent.
Rubbing my jaw anxiously, I mull over what Sergio said. Which old brothel could Camila be hidden in? There are so many of them, but it would have to be one that doesn't have any foot traffic these days. A place secluded enough not to draw attention from junkies looking for an abandoned space to shoot up or squatters hoping to make their home.
I should have drilled Sergio for more details before handing him off to Mila. Well, too late now. Entering the kitchen, I have to wipe the bottoms of my shoes, as well as a few bloody footprints, from the kitchen tiles. I'm messier than I realized. I wash my hands in the sink, removing the blood that's starting to scab over. It wouldn't be the first time I was spotted in my home covered in gore, but I prefer not to give off an overly violent image with my staff whenever I can.
Layla will skewer me for the mess in the cellar.
I take a quick shower after I go upstairs, and change into clean clothes. I'm in the middle of putting on new, blood-free shoes when Mila sways into my bedroom doorway. As if to spite my attempts at keeping the place from looking like a slaughterhouse, she trails blood behind her with every step.
'You look fresh as a babe," she says.
'Can you not track blood all over my carpets?"
'Don't get so pissy at me. I have good news." Crossing her arms, she leans on my doorframe. 'Before I ripped his tongue out, Sergio gave up more info. It's amazing how quickly men start telling the truth when you have a knife at their balls."
'Spare me the details. What did you learn?"
'A list of potential safe houses Camila could be in."
My chest grows tight with joy. 'Good."
'You're welcome," she chuckles. 'In return, I'm blaming the footprints I tracked through here on you. Make sure Layla knows that."
'You think she'll believe that I was wearing heels?"
'That sounds like a you problem, not mine." Mila shrugs before she turns and walks away, heels clicking with each step and leaving distinct bloody dots in their wake.
I'm grateful that she had the presence to remember the mission. My brain has been fractured lately, making it a challenge to stay focused. All I can think about is Camila. It's impossible to chase the thought of her away from my mind. And each day I'm separated from her, it's harder and harder to keep myself as sharp as I normally am. The very memory of her dulls my senses.
Once I get her back, that will change.
'Get cleaned up," I call after Mila. 'I want to work our way down this list immediately."
'You're in quite the hurry."
'We can't waste a minute."
'Last time we rushed, Asher Volkov, we were cornered and you nearly died."
'I'm aware." Making fists at my sides, I work my jaw. 'But we need to act fast. If Yannick finds out that Camila is pregnant with my child, he will hurt the baby."
Mila's eyes soften. 'I have a feeling he already knows."
A surge of despair careens through my blood. 'What makes you think that?"
'He's a perceptive man. And Camila wears her heart on her sleeve. Even when she was here, she subconsciously tried to protect that unborn child from danger." Mila wraps her arm around her stomach to imitate Camila. 'How long before she does that in front of him?"
Mila's words ring with harsh truth. 'Then all the more reason we have precious little time to waste."
