Till The Sun Dies: Checkmate, #2

by Finn, Emilia

  “Who got you?” Spence tilts his head to the side. “I’m willing to bet someone else already went to bat for the girl you hurt. Why didn’t you go to the cops?”

  “No cops.” His eyes water and spill over. “No cops. No more.”

  Spence lifts his chin toward the cross. “You ever cuff that poor girl to one of these, Graham?” The wrench dangles from his hand like it’s no big deal. “I heard you like to dehumanize girls. Sell them. Beat them to shit.”

  “No. I never hit her!”

  “Oh, right. Because I’m inclined to believe you. But the rest…” Spence’s hand flexes. “The rest is true?” Without giving Graham a chance to defend himself, Spence swings the wrench up between his legs until the sound of crunching nuts forces Graham forward as rivers of vomit splash onto the concrete floor. “You hurt women, you lose your dick, motherfucker! You’re in my house now, and we don’t tolerate that around here.”

  “Spence.” Kane steps forward. “No. This ain’t your show. You got the first shot, but now Riggs has some anger he’d like to work through. It’s been a long time coming, and he deserves his go.”

  Graham heaves. Spitting up blood and stomach acid, he hangs limp on the frame as blood trickles along the inside of his thigh.

  It both satisfies and makes me sick.

  Don’t go there.

  Don’t put that in your head.

  I step to the table and study everything Spence supplied us for tonight.

  He was thorough. He got long nose pliers, a claw hammer, a sledge hammer, a socket set, cable ties, and about six hundred different kinds of screwdrivers. Scissors – the kind you find in regular kitchens – sit on the end beside a fire extinguisher, and the blowtorch sits on the floor.

  A truck battery sits beside that, and a set of jumper cables make me look toward Kane and Spence, who stand by, watching me.

  “You got all this together in twenty minutes?”

  “What can I say?” Spence grins. “I’m a car enthusiast. I like to make sure I got everything to keep it running smoothly.”

  “Oh my God,” Graham cries as blood pools on the floor beneath him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen exploded balls before. “You’re gonna kill me. Oh my God.” He spits blood onto the floor. “Please let me go.”

  I pick the claw hammer up and toss it from hand to hand. “Why her?” I stalk closer and wait for his eyes to meet mine. “Why’d you pick her?”

  “Who?”

  I slam the hammer against his ribs and bask in his screams when they collapse. “Okay! I’m sorry. Laine. You’re talking about Laine.”

  “Why?” I twist the hammer until the claw rests against his neck. “Why her? I watched you zero in on her in that club. You think I don’t watch those girls when they dance? You think I didn’t notice you before you even approached them? I saw her tell you no. She was dancing with her sisters. She was drinking and dancing, and when you stopped in their group, she smiled and shook her head. Why’d you push it?”

  “Because she’s beautiful!”

  “I know she’s beautiful. I know what she is. But there are always beautiful women in that club. She said no, so why didn’t you walk away and ask someone else to dance?”

  “I don’t–”

  I scrape the claw along his neck. “Answer me!”

  “Because there were two of them!” He chokes. “Because I wanted them both. Like a collection.”

  “Riggs. Move.”

  I turn and come eye to eye with a furious Kane and his extended arm. I jump out of the way just as a bullet sears through Graham’s thigh, chipping wood off the frame that holds him.

  Graham’s screams almost drown out the sound of his restraints clanging against the structure.

  “They’re not a collection, motherfucker!” Kane steps forward and presses the barrel of his gun to Graham’s temple. “They’re not a fucking possession, and neither of them are for you.”

  “Hey, now.” Spence steps forward and pulls Kane back. “I got a shot, you got a shot, but Riggs still didn’t get his in. Back up.”

  “Say it after me.” Kane doesn’t back down. “Say ‘my name is Graham, and I’m a raping prick.’”

  “No, I–”

  “Say it!”

  “My name is Graham.” Blood dribbles over his chin. “I’m a raping prick.”

  “‘And I will never touch a woman again.’”

  “I won’t touch her again.”

  “No.” He brings the barrel of his gun around to Graham’s forehead. “Not just Laine. Say ‘I won’t touch any woman ever again.’”

  “No…” When Kane’s finger slides over the trigger, Graham convulses against his restraints. “Any woman! I won’t touch any woman ever again.”

  “How can we believe you?” I pick up a long-bladed knife that looks like it might belong in a tackle box, step forward, and shoulder Kane away.

  It’s my turn.

  “How will we know, Graham? Raping pricks so rarely tell the truth.”

  “I promise.” Snot runs along his bruised face until it drips off his chin. “I promise. I’ll leave town. You won’t ever see me again. I won’t call Laine anymore.”

  “So you can go off to another town, find another pretty girl, perhaps a set of twins, and you get to send someone else to their death?”

  “No!” His eyes wheel around. “I won’t. I promise.”

  I step back to the table and pick up the torch. Switching it on, and clicking the red button, I turn back to Graham with the blue flame warming the air ahead of me.

  I hold the blade of my knife in the flame and watch it turn red.

  “What…” He shakes his head and tries to back up. “What are you gonna do?”

  “I’m gonna to make it so every woman you ever meet knows what you are. I’m gonna to tell the truth for you.” I glance to Kane and Spence, who back up until they rest against the wall. They appear at ease, but their weapons and clicking jaws say they’re ready to jump in.

  “I don’t believe a damn thing you say, Greg. And I ain’t inclined to take your word for shit. So…” I lower the flame and close up the bullet hole Kane left behind.

  Graham’s screams reach a whole new decibel. His pale body convulses, and his head slams against the timber frame as he throws it back. When the stench of cooking flesh reaches my nostrils, I stop and watch his skin bubble. I meet his eyes, the pupils just tiny pinpricks. “You were bleedin’, brother. Gotta close that up before you get an infection.”

  “Please stop.” Blood slides over his lip and onto his chin. He speaks with a lisp, like he bit his tongue. “Please let me go. I need to go to the hospital.”

  “No. You won’t be stepping into a hospital tonight. You can’t, because then you’ll have to explain you’re a rapist prick. Not sure how you’ll spin that. Plus, Laine’s brother works there, and I assure you, he won’t help you.”

  “Please let me go. I think I’m dying.” His words garble together. “Please let me go.”

  I turn to the back wall. “You guys think he’s dying?”

  “Nope.” Spence slowly turns the wrench in his hand. “He’s got loads of blood left in him, and you closed up that wound on his thigh.” He lifts his chin toward Kane. “He ever tell you how we met?”

  I shake my head.

  “We met through a mutual appreciation for upholding the law. And I don’t mean in the courts, or during a years long procedural investigation. I mean, we both have a problem with fuckers hurting people, so we learned how to bring ‘em close to death, but we didn’t let them die. Dying is easy. It’s too kind. What we do is reform bullies, and when they can’t be reformed, we tear them apart till life is so much worse than death.”

  “What if one kicks the bucket before you’re ready?”

  Kane flashes a sadistic grin that sends chills right to my bones. “It’s amazing what a set of jumper cables can achieve when you know what you’re doing. And after the first few times, you learn how to perfect it. How to time it. You e
ven learn how to do it without leaving burn marks.”

  “Mostly,” Spence adds. “Those marks are testy. We got something like… I dunno.” He looks to Kane. “Like a twenty-percent success rate on leaving them without burns? Something like that.”

  Graham sobs behind me. “Please don’t do this. I don’t want any more.”

  I turn with my reddened blade and meet his eyes. “How many times did Laine tell you that same thing?”

  “No, she–”

  I bring the flame to his exposed nipple and watch the skin char. “Try again!” I shout over his screams. “And don’t fucking lie to me!”

  “Stop!”

  “How many times?”

  “I don’t know!” Vomit dribbles out the side of his mouth. “I don’t know! I’m sorry. I didn’t listen to her.”

  Bringing the blade back to the flame, I watch it burn red. “Spell it out for me, asshole.”

  “Spell…” His eyes roll around in his head. “Spell what?”

  “Rapist. I want you to spell it out. Slowly. One letter at a time.”

  “Please stop.” His head drops forward, almost into my flame, and I have to step back or watch his hair go up. “Please stop.”

  “No. I won’t stop. Not until the day you die.” With a knife in one hand and the torch in the other, I turn to the guys, but I don’t have to ask.

  Kane steps forward and slams Graham’s head back against the wood, threading his fingers into his hair and holding him still, he presents me with the perfect canvas. “R.” When Kane’s eyes meet mine, I find myself inducted into that brotherhood he spoke of. The trust that guys like Kane and Spence forge on the battlefield. His jaw ticks with rage. “Rapist starts with R.”

  “No!”

  I ignore Graham’s screams and the rattling chains, and instead focus as I bring my fiery hot blade to his forehead and press the tip in to start my work.

  “You should thank me.” I speak over Graham’s screams and dig in until I feel the bone. “I disinfected this knife, Garry. And the heat makes it so your skin melts. It’s like butter.” Blood spills over my hands, but not a lot, since the hot blade cauterizes the wound as I go. “There will be no infections today. Think of it like a tattoo.”

  “A.” Kane snaps when I finish the first letter. “A for asshole.”

  “A for anus.” Spence prowls behind us. “Ever had a blowtorch shoved up your anus before, Garett?” He stops and flashes an evil grin. “No? Me neither. But one of us is gonna know what that feels like before this is done.”

  “Not it!” Kane shouts with a playful grin.

  I stare into Graham’s eyes and whisper, “Not it.”

  “No…” Snot bubbles over his lips and joins the blood on my hands. “Please stop.”

  “Sorry.” I grit my teeth and work on the next line of the A. “This ain’t my house. Our host is saying this is what’s happening, and everyone except you said not it. Next time you’ll be faster.”

  “I’ll give you all my hard drives,” he bargains. “Every picture. Every video. I’ll give you all my passwords and help you take all the stuff off the internet.”

  “P!” Kane’s hand presses over mine until the tip of my blade snaps against bone. “You think we don’t already have it taken down, motherfucker? You think I didn’t take care of that?”

  I ignore Graham’s screaming and turn to Kane. “You got it all?” I didn’t even fucking know there were images.

  “I got everything. What else do you think I did every night I watched that pussy sleep? I wasn’t whacking off. I searched every room, every inch of that house. I collected and wiped every last piece of technology he owns. There is not a single image left on this planet for anyone to look at.” His eyes meet mine. “She looks just like mine; you think I left it out there?”

  “No.” I turn back and slap Graham’s face when his eyes wheel to the back of his head. “I’m not done, Gabe. I. Then S. Then T. Then you sleep.”

  “I don’t wanna.” His words garble, like his tongue is too thick. “No more.”

  “Next time you hear a girl say that, you might listen.” I slide the blade along his forehead and cut into his brow – similarly to how Spence’s brow is marked. “The next time a girl says no, you might think of me. That oughtta slow those rapey urges. Hold onto something, because this S is gonna suck.”

  “No!” The chains rattle against the stand, and when he pushes back with enough strength, Spence moves around to hold it in place.

  My hands don’t shake as I mark this man.

  This rat.

  My heart barely pumps faster than it does at rest.

  This is his payment for what he did. It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough. But short of killing him, it’s the best we can do.

  “That T’s a little wonky, Riggs.”

  I shrug and finish it up with an exclamation point. “It reads just fine.” I slap Graham’s face again. “Don’t you dare pass out. You don’t get out of this so easily.”

  “I want to go home.”

  “Almost done, big boy.”

  Now that he’s stopped throwing his weight around and is nothing more than a slumped bag of bones, I drop to my knees and yank his underwear down.

  “Ah, Riggs?” Spence watches on with a grimace. Slicing a man up does nothing to his sensibilities, but kneeling in front of a naked man gets him all queasy. “What are you doing?”

  I look up and meet Graham’s terrified eyes. “You know how they castrate a lamb?”

  “No.” He throws his head back. “No! No! No! Stop!”

  “It’s okay, Grant, I YouTubed it. You can trust me.” I turn to Kane. “You gotta hold his dick.”

  “I’m not touching his dick! Get the fuck outta here.”

  “I’m cutting his nuts out whether you want to or not. Someone’s gotta hold his dick so I don’t accidentally cut it off.”

  “I’m not touching his dick!”

  “I got it.” Spence steps forward with a pair of long nose pliers. “I didn’t even know this was something I wanted to do until now.”

  He opens the pliers and maneuvers Graham’s soft cock between the teeth. When he closes them further than any man could handle and Graham’s screaming turns to something animalistic, I take what I need from my pants pocket and look up into his eyes.

  “Your forehead will tell women the truth. But if they’re too blind or stupid to understand it, then I’m making sure you won’t touch a woman again.”

  Remorselessly, I slide my blade along the underside of his testicles and scrunch my nose at the surge of blood that fills my hands. “I feel like a doctor.” I lean in indecently close and work on pulling his testicles down through the slit. “I feel all powerful and shit.”

  When I get no response from Graham, I glance up and find him out cold. “Pussy. Anyone’d think his dick was caught in a pair of pliers.”

  Spence cackles. “You’re a sick motherfucker, Riggs. But I’m gonna keep you around. I like you.”

  Ten minutes and a pair of balls later, we wrap a still unconscious Graham in a plastic sheet and toss him back into my trunk.

  “Forest?” Kane stops in front of me and works a wet towel over his hands to clean Graham’s blood away. “Desert? Dealer’s choice.”

  Oz’s kids flash through my mind. “Not the forest; lots of kids live around here. Let’s just take him home. Dump him back in his bed. We don’t want him walking through town tomorrow and getting the cops involved.”

  “Home?” He shrugs. “Works for me. Tuck him back into bed and wish him happy dreams.”

  “Exactly. He’s not gonna die.”

  “Unlikely. You closed him up nice and neat. You’ve got skills.”

  “Mm.” I close the trunk and move around to the driver’s side. “A kid learns shit when he’s gotta stitch his mom up three times a week.” I shake Spence’s hand when he stops beside my car. “Nice to meet you.”

  He chuckles. “I know you mean that. You’ve got a pal now, Riggs. I�
�ll see you around.”

  “Yeah.” I slide in and start the loud engine. I don’t hear the words spoken between Kane and Spence, and I don’t much care. I’m ready to get rid of Graham.

  I’m ready to go back to Laine.

  And even if I can never tell her what we did, I’ll know in my mind I made her safe. I avenged her pain.

  I’ll spend the rest of my life fighting her monsters back just so she can sleep a little easier.

  9

  Laine

  Wash It Away

  “Wake up, Lainie. Wake up. It’s time to go.”

  My stomach hurts. Just the thought of waking and going with him hurts, so I turn over and pretend I’m still asleep. He can’t take me if I’m asleep.

  “Laine. Wake up.” He fists my hair. “Time to go.”

  “No.” I let my word come out on a sleepy mumble. Fake it! Fake it! Fake it! “Not time to get up. Sleepy.”

  “Laine!”

  “I don’t want anymore, Graham. I just want to sleep.” I turn to the edge of the bed. “Just let me sleep. Please.”

  “Laine!”

  I shoot up in bed and slam my forehead against something solid. A rough hand comes down in the dark and smacks into my shoulder. When I scream, it turns into an unrelenting grip as he roars and holds me down.

  “Fuck!”

  “Stop! Get off.” I struggle to yank my arm free. “Let me go!”

  “Fuck, I’m sorry!” Ang refuses to release me, and when I scramble back, his hold only tightens until I want to shed my skin. “Just stop for a sec. I’m sorry. It’s just me.”

  “Let me go!” Tears – tears I escape only while asleep – rush over my cheeks and into my mouth as shadows move around the dark room.

  “Woah. Baby, slow down.” I jump to the side when a second set of hands clutch at my arm. “Laine.” Jess’ voice brings bile to my throat, echoing in the stark hospital room. “Slow down, Baby. It’s just me.”

  I spin away to escape the hands, but my cords – the IV, the pulse thingy they clip to my finger – all twists and tugs at my flesh. I cry out at the fiery sting, then shoot forward when Ang’s hands touch my hips.