I did say something earlier, but no one was listening. Arguing is hardly going to be productive, though, so I get straight down to facts.
'I have something concrete.' At least, I hope I do. They took it off me when they were processing me, so my fingers are crossed it's still there. If it's disappeared I have nothing.
'Then you are my new best friend,' the police officer says dryly. 'So, I suppose we'd better go find an interview room.'
Ten minutes later, over a cup of coffee that is only slightly better than prison coffee, I tell my sordid, sorry little tale, including as many details as I can think of, and elaborating where needed. The heroin bust he thinks he's going to stop isn't real, but if he gets Mal he'll be able to find out where it is, along with a hell of a lot more.
I rattle on with my story as fast as I possibly can, and when finished I for some reason feel exhausted. I shouldn't be because my backside has been stuck to a plastic chair for the better part of an hour, but it's been a rough week, and sleep hasn't been a big priority. Anyway, right now I have to figure out a way to get this officer to jump all over the case ASAP. I have a feeling that telling him Mal has two of my best friends in tow and is planning to kill them won't sway him much. If I tell him he's about to skip town and kill a load of people, however, that might make him move. It's worth a shot.
'How much heroin are we talking about here?' Officer Biggs asks me as he finishes up his paperwork. I've finally taken the trouble to read his name badge. Seeing as how we're hopefully about to become friends, I think it appropriate that I at least know how to address him.
'He's one of the main dealers in the East End of London,' I say. 'How long is a piece of string? If we hurry I can give you his girlfriend too. She'll tell you all of his inner dealings. You'll be able to nail him for everything, but we have to hurry. Once he's skipped town you've lost him.' I'm beginning to wonder if any real police work ever gets done in these parts. I know they have to do their job, but seriously, how many of these fuckers slip through their fingers while they're filing reports?
'You realise that if we find you're lying to us you'll go down for a very long time.' Officer Biggs is trying his best to make sure I'm telling the truth. He's probably been on quite a few wild goose chases in his time, and I can appreciate that it's probably not a fantastic way to spend your evening.
'I'm telling the truth,' I admonish, waving my hands around in the air animatedly for effect. I'm telling the truth on at least seventy-five percent of my tale, anyway, and they'll get the rest later.
After we go back and forth a little longer, as he checks my earlier statement to make sure I'm not lying, he eventually seems satisfied by my story.
'Right, I think I've got all I need here. Is there anyone you'd like to call?'
I don't want to call anyone. I want to head straight out to Mal's and rescue Harper and Gabriel before it's too late.
'I don't suppose I can come with you, can I?' I already know the answer to that question, but I ask it anyway.
Officer Biggs thinks it hilarious, and that is all the answer I need, unfortunately. I don't even bother to argue. There is no point.
'Yes, I'd like to call my lawyer,' I say. This time I'm going to hire a decent one. Hopefully I won't need them, but I'm not taking any chances.
'We'll sort that out for you. If your story checks out, though, you won't need one.'
For my story to check out I need Harper alive, and if this guy doesn't get his arse in gear there's a distinct possibility she won't be.
'Just hurry,' I say. 'Please hurry.'
Chapter Twenty-Three - Harper
I know what Gabriel is doing. He's distracting Mal so he can take the focus off me. While admirable, he's a fool. If he'd have left Mal to it, only one of us needed to die. Now, it looks like we'll both go down the same way and I want to scream. Scrap that, I am screaming - but no one is paying a blind bit of attention to me. This is the last thing I want to happen. I don't need anyone to save me. This has been coming for a while, and now it's here I just want it over with. All Gabriel is doing is dragging the damn saga out, and I can't watch Mal hurt him. Maybe this is punishment for all the crimes I've committed in the past. If so, it's brutally effective. If you'd shown me how my life would end five years ago I would have moved heaven and hell to make sure I never stepped a foot down this path. It is far too late for regrets though. I swear my life is going to haunt me long after I'm dead, too.
When Mal starts using Gabriel as a punchbag I go mad. This is not his fight. I tell this to both of them in no uncertain terms, but no one is listening. It's as if I am suddenly invisible. Since I've been invisible most of my life, I have no idea why this should be such a surprise to me.
Don't get me wrong, I should be grateful for what he's doing, but I am just so tired. I need this to be over. All this will do is draw things out and make the beast in front of us angry. He's bad enough at the best of times, but when he's angry you don't want to be anywhere near him.
I do my best not to watch as blood and spittle go flying everywhere. The sickening sound of Mal's fist crunching into bones does funny things to my stomach, and it's not in a very stable condition as it is. Gabriel doesn't make a sound. His face is knocked this way and that, and I'm pretty sure he's lost a tooth or two, but he's as silent as a tomb. But he won't stay that way for long. Mal will make sure of it.
When the tube of glue comes out I nearly lose the plot. It doesn't help that I've seen this so many times before. I know how it works, I know what he does, and I know how it all ends.
'Gabriel!' I scream. This is code for 'you are not going to sit there and take this for me'. If I say what I really mean Mal will tie him down, and that's the last thing we need. Mind you, as soon as his eyes are glued shut it's game over anyway.
When Gabriel doesn't make a move to do anything I yell again, but he ignores me, so I start bouncing up and down on my chair. It doesn't make any difference, but at least I feel better.
Actually, I don't. I have to sit there and watch while two of Mal's men hold Gabriel down, so they can glue his gob shut. Mal then proceeds to pull a pair of black latex gloves on, in order to ensure he won't get any glue on himself.
'Are you watching, Harper?' he goads, looking straight at me. 'When this is all over I'm going to chop his cock off, fry it, and feed it to you - piece by fucking piece.'
I don't vomit. There's nothing left in my stomach to bring up. Besides, I wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction. Thankfully I can't see Gabriel's face from where I'm sitting, but the poor bloke must be close to losing it as Mal spreads the glue over his mouth. The thing about superglue is that it sets really quickly. Mal just has to close his lips together for a couple of seconds - and voila - the job is done. If Gabriel tries to pull them apart he'll end up tearing half his skin off. Besides the fact there's no point, because Mal will just glue him back together again.
'Doesn't look like you'll be licking any cunts in the near future, Rodriguez,' Mal says, laughing as he looks him over. This is typical Mal style. Once he has them helpless before him, that's when he really sticks the knife in, quite literally, unfortunately.
'Leave him alone!' I yell. 'You've got me. I love you. I love you. I LOVE YOU. Jesus Christ, Mal, I'll say any damn thing you want me to, just let him go. This is between us. It has always been between us.' I'm trying to think of something that will appeal to whatever sliver of conscience he has left, but I'm pretty sure I'm wasting my breath. My tormentor is playing out his fantasies, and it looks like he's enjoying himself immensely.
'Too late for that, 'Arper,' Mal says, without looking at me. 'We're officially past the point of no return. 'Ave you got any last words for Gabriel? If so, you might as well get them out of the way. He's not going to be breathing for too much longer.'
I can hear Gabriel trying to speak through his glued lips, but I can't make out a word he's saying. The sound is soul-destroying. I can't take this on top of everything else, but it's not as if I have a choic
e. What is Gabriel waiting for? Brandt isn't coming. This needs to end. He promised me.
That's when I start rocking on the chair, while I do my best to break out of the rope that holds me. It's not a good precursor of mental health, and unfortunately, I suspect there is worse to come. I can't think straight. I hate this building. I hate everything it represents, and everything that has happened here. I wish I had tried to claw Mal's eyes out while I still had the chance. I've been thinking about killing him for years. You wouldn't believe the amount of times I've dreamed of pulling a gun on him and blowing half his head off. There's no question he deserves it. The trouble is, I'm too much of a coward. I also know that if I somehow missed or didn't go through with it, we'd be back to where we are now. God. The walls all around me are darkening and thickening, and I feel like they are sprouting arms. All of these arms have long, pointy fingers which want to rake at my flesh, tearing me apart piece by piece. Normally it takes a lot of drugs to induce these kinds of hallucinations, but not today. Today my brain is in freefall, and Salvador Dali has nothing on me.
'Last words, 'Arper?' Mal's reminding me that I'm supposed to be saying goodbye. I'm not going to, though. Gabriel will get his goodbye when he wraps his hands around my neck in a few moments' time. Then I will smile at him and say thank you, and I will mean it. If he can take me out of this world and keep me out, then he'll have my gratitude.
Mal waits patiently for my response, but I give him nothing. Am I dragging this out in the hopes that we will be rescued? It seems doubtful. I gave up on fairy tales a long time ago. What is wrong with me? One moment I want this all to be over, and the next I'm using delaying tactics. To add insult to injury my throat is dry, my head is spinning, and I have a cracking headache.
When Mal gets bored of waiting he fills in the blanks for me. 'Seems she's got nothing to say to you, Rodriguez. Maybe she doesn't love you after all. You know, just because you fuck 'em, it doesn't mean they fall for you. 'Arper's strange like that.' He clears his throat and rubs his gloved hands together as he gets ready to torment his victim. Sure enough, the next words out of his mouth are, 'Which finger do you want me to cut off first, Rodriguez? Any preference?'
Gabriel has given up trying to speak. I should think breathing is his number one priority right now. Sucking air in through your nose isn't quite as efficient as breathing in through your mouth. Mal's tested the theory on several people numerous times, and most ended up hyperventilating. I can't imagine Gabriel having a panic attack. He always seems so calm and confident, but I wouldn't blame him if he did.
'Cat got your tongue?' Mal chuckles. 'That is a shame. I'll just have to decide for you, then.' Tilting his head to the side, he pretends to think about this. I know he has already decided exactly what he wants to do, but he's going to drag it out. He likes to see his victim's sweat, but I have a feeling Gabriel isn't going to give him the satisfaction. I'm not exactly sure what he's hoping for, anyway. The poor bastard can't speak with his lips glued together. Maybe he's hoping Gabriel is going to come at him, so he can mow him down, but that would spoil his fun.
''Arper? Do you have any thoughts on the matter?' Ahh, so that's his angle, is it? Cute. I shake my head. My voice is AWOL and besides, he's never listened to me in the past, so why should he start now?
'I'd speak up if I were you, sweetheart. If you don't I may decide to do them all at once.' He grabs Gabriel's left hand and begins to glue each finger to the next one. Strangely enough Gabriel lets him. I have no idea what's going through his head, but if it was me I'd be leaping off that chair and going out with a bang. My head drops towards the floor with despair as I begin to wonder what dying will feel like. Yes, I've already given up, and yes, I don't care. Someone's had it in for me the moment I set foot on this earth, and as I get older life gets worse, not better.
'I can't hear you, 'Arper.' Mal sing-songs my name, and the sound makes me wince. Do something, Gabriel. I have no idea what he's waiting for, but it had better be good. Meanwhile, all the fingers on his right hand are now stuck solid.
When Mal still doesn't get a response he decides to take matters into his own hands. Approaching me he grabs my face, pulling it upwards so I have to look at him. For a minute he doesn't say anything, but my eyes must be rolling about in my head or something because he then slaps me. It shocks me out of my stupor, if nothing else.
'Focus, 'Arper. It's not your turn to die, yet. Tell you what, why don't I let you cut some fingers off? You can show lover-boy over here what you're made of.' He goes behind me and begins untying my hands. By now my body is trembling so hard I feel like the chair has taken on a life of its own.
'No,' I whisper. 'No, no, no.' The sound is so soft he can't hear it. Nothing works any more. I can't speak, can't think, can't breathe.
'Don't worry, sweetheart. He won't hurt you. I've glued those 'ands up good.' Mal thinks I'm scared of Gabriel, in the same way that I am of him. Perhaps I should be, but I'm not. While Gabe has his issues, he is not Mal. There is a beating heart inside him. I know because I've seen it.
The rope falls to the floor, the soft thud echoing in my ears. This isn't happening. I haven't recovered from Alex. The guilt still eats at me, even though the man was a monster. I can still remember Mal's hand curling around mine as he aimed the gun at my husband's forehead. The utter shock and horror that he actually expected me to do something like that. I remember screaming as I tried to pull away, but Mal wasn't going to let me escape that easily. His finger tightened on the trigger, and so did mine. It makes me a killer. I murdered my husband. Yes, I might have had help, but that's what happened. I'm going to have to live with that. Gabriel has his demons too, but he seems to have made peace with his. If we get through this, maybe I'll ask him how he did it. If we get out of here and live to tell the tale, that is. If, if, if. So many ifs.
Mal squats in front of me and brings my trembling hands up into my lap and holds them there, trying to calm me down. He can forget it. We're past that. I'm a nervous wreck and I need somewhere with padded walls. All I want to do is lie on a nice soft bed and sleep forever.
'Get a grip, 'Arper.' Mal thrusts a Swiss army knife into my right hand, flicking the blade up for me. My first reaction is to let it drop to the floor, but he closes his hand over mine and shakes his head. I'm not going to get away with it that easy. Looking at the knife with terror, I shake my head. No, no, no.
Gabriel turns around to look at me. My eyes are drawn to his lips, which are cracked, bleeding, and covered in glue. His face is all bruised and swollen, he has one black eye, and blood is dripping from his nose. He looks like something from a horror movie. He eyes the knife in my hand and nods his head. Mal can't see this because his back is towards him. It's just me and Gabe, and it's like he's telling me that this is okay. This is not okay, though. It is anything but okay. My eyes can't hold his and my lashes drop back down. I want to tell him that I love him, that I'm sorry I got him messed up in all of this, and that I wish we could turn the clock back. I can't utter a sound, though.
Grab the knife, Harper. Stick it through Mal's chest. That's what his eyes are telling me. If I did that this could all be over in a heartbeat. The surrounding mercenaries will then shoot, and that will be that. I can't do it though. I'm not a killer. Even though I've been tormented beyond what any sane person should ever have to endure in a lifetime, I can't finish him off. I could hurt him, but that wouldn't be enough. Mind you, perhaps that's all I'd need to do. Gabriel doesn't need his hands. He's still got his feet. Maybe it's time I took a chance. Taking a deep breath, I let my fingers close around the smooth plastic of the handle. Looking up at Mal, I nod once. That's all he needs from me.
His face lights up as he says, 'Fuck, I knew you'd do this for me. I knew it, 'Arper. You do love me, don't you? Alex told me you'd never fall for anyone because you were set on that rich kid, but I told him he didn't know shit. I was right, wasn't I?'
Is it me, or are we going around in circles? Why won't Mal take no for an answer?
I seem to be a homing beacon for psychopaths.
His question hangs in the air between us like an STD, because Mal's sure he's got it, and I sure as hell don't want to touch it. I don't have the energy to lie to him any more, either. Still, I guess I can give him a weak smile. Sell the lie, Harper. Sell it good.
My hand tightens on the knife as my gaze wanders down over my once white T-shirt.
'Rodriguez, get over here.' Mal thumps the back of his chair, and there's a distinct pause before I can hear the metal legs scraping as he pushes it back behind him. There's then the slow thud of footsteps before he's standing tall before us.
Mal spins his chair around so he can sit in front of us. Always the thoughtful one, our Mal.
'Put your hand on the table,' he instructs sharply. Gabriel looks at me, raises his eyebrow, and then places his left hand on the table. He isn't shaking like I am. He is all tightly controlled energy, coiled like a spring, ready to pounce. Even Mal can see it because he chooses to pull his gun out of his jeans. Gabe is making him nervous. Even with his fingers glued together the guy looks dangerous. Mal thinks the guards dotted all over the place will ensure he will stay still, but I know better. Maybe Mal does too. Maybe he just wants to make a mess of him. That would be right down his alley.
As I move to get into position for what I'm about to do, I have several decisions to make. The first one is figuring out where to stab Mal. I am not in the finger chopping business. That is not my style. When I use the knife I am going to sink it in somewhere deep and twist the fucker, before I pull it out and begin all over again. Maybe I am a killer after all. Maybe everyone has a killer inside them somewhere. I guess I'll shortly find out.
Mal isn't one for patience, so I lift the blade and let it hover above Gabriel's hand. Mal takes a step back. He's making sure he's out of my reach, so I can't go and do something stupid. He's one step ahead as usual. I don't even look at him. I'm too good at this. I've had years of practise.
Beautiful Tyrant (Enemies to Lovers - Dark Romance Book 3) Page 22
