Now, he sat tied to what looked like a very uncomfortable chair, beads of sweat sliding down both sides of his face. There was nothing like the stench of garlic oozing from a man’s pores. I drummed my fingers on his desk with one hand, rolling the implement I’d brought with me to use in the other.
Both Christian and Clinton remained leaning against the wall. Clinton was eager to see me work. Christian was just ready to get the dance over with. Not that I could blame him. Clinton’s other righthand man, Marty, was eager to do the dirty work. While I certainly wouldn’t mind handling Bart’s punishment myself, I preferred watching.
I’d remained silent, doing nothing more than studying Bart. I’d rifled through his office, finding a single email tying him to the situation at hand.
Poor Bart was being blackmailed. It would seem I’d underestimated him completely. While he looked like a meek accountant type, complete with wire rim glasses, he had a penchant for dark kink that rivaled even what I enjoyed.
He also had a monster size cock that he didn’t mind shoving into the mayor’s daughter. I wondered how Bart’s wife felt about him fucking a seventeen-year-old?
The stupid bastard was also keeping trophies of his own in a safe in his office that I’d easily cracked. The collection he’d amassed of child porn and other fucked up things would make most people sick to their stomachs.
“What do you want from me?” Bart asked nervously.
I took my time answering. “The truth.”
“What?” He was already exasperated, likely realizing he’d be lucky to get out of this alive. Little did he know it was his lucky day. Tomorrow might be a different story, but his blood wouldn’t be on my hands at that point.
“Who is blackmailing you?”
For a man who didn’t appear to be able to hide behind a facade, he surprised me again, the quizzical look on his face almost believable. “Are you out of your mind? There’s nothing to blackmail me over.”
I took a deep breath, removing one of the pictures that he’d been stupid enough to keep as a trophy. “Then I guess you won’t mind if I email this to the illustrious mayor of your lovely city.”
Instead of pleading or denying, screaming to the hills the photograph could be doctored, he grinned like the pervert he was. God, I hated men who vilified women.
“She’s of age.”
“Not when this picture was taken.”
Bart shifted in the seat, and I glanced at Marty. He walked over, taking the sewing needle from my hand. Both Christian and Clinton had been fascinated when I’d provided instructions on what to do.
“So what? I can easily explain it. That doesn’t even look like me.”
I leaned forward and cocked my head. “Oh, I assure you that there is more where that came from, Bart.” I pulled out two of the photographs I found most disturbing from his collection. At least he’d started to sweat even more. “Now, I need to know who the fuck is blackmailing you and what they know about me and my astute colleagues here.”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
Exhaling, I was already weary of his denial. I nodded at Marty, who immediately moved beside him, grabbing one of Bart’s hands. Then Marty showed him what he held in his other hand.
I steepled my fingers, my elbows resting on the thick leather arms as I studied him. “My father was a quiet man, very reserved. He almost never showed his frustration or anger. However, when he was forced to do so, anyone facing his wrath knew to be terrified. He had his share of enemies, like any wealthy businessman. When I learned how he kept them under control, I gave all my respect to him, even though we weren’t particularly close. I was proud and happy that he took the time to show me how he managed to build such a powerful empire.”
As Marty slipped the needle under Bart’s index finger, it took only two seconds before the man reacted.
I waved the soldier off, giving Bart an opportunity to recover and reconsider. After the man howled for a full ten seconds, he glared at me, panting like a dog. “What… do you… want?”
“It’s often the little things in life that cause so much pleasure. And pain. A name, Bart. I want to know who is determined to make my life and that of my friends a living hell.”
“I can’t fucking tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll die.” Bart finally started struggling, his face turning red. There was no doubt he was afraid of what the man would do.
“I assure you, Bart, that if you don’t tell me what I want to do, you’ll wish you were dead.”
He twisted his mouth but it didn’t seem as if he was going to say anything. I motioned to Marty again and he returned to a task I could tell he enjoyed. Sighing, I rubbed my eyes as Bart expressed his displeasure.
“Enough,” I said after a full minute. “You have one last opportunity to tell me what I want to know. Who is the man determined to bring us down?”
Tears were running out of his eyes, his shirt soaked from sweat. I’d forgotten just how effective the method could be. Suddenly, I needed a shower from the stench in the room.
“Listen,” he finally managed to say. “Not… Not…”
This was getting ridiculous. “Not what, Bart?” I nodded to Marty and all he needed to do was hold the needle up to Bart’s face.
“It’s not a man. It’s a woman.”
As he was yelling the words, a text came through, and I pulled my phone into my hand, reading the message
Then I lifted my head towards Clinton, then to Christian, both grabbing their phones.
She’s alive…