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A small, strangled laugh leaves her throat. “Jesus, King.” She gives her head a slight shake. “That was…” She trails off and tries to turn to look at the man, but I keep my cheek against hers, not letting her.
“Hot as fuck,” I finish.
Still wrapped around her, I turn Savannah towards the front wall and then walk her toward the door.
She doesn’t resist, and she doesn’t try to look at the man again.
When we make it through the threshold, I pull the door mostly closed behind us.
Stopping on the little landing at the base of the stairs, I pull Savannah’s panties out of my pocket.
She tries to take them from me, but I crouch in front of her. “Let me.”
Savannah braces herself on my shoulders, then lifts her feet in her cute little shoes, as I slide her lacy panties up her legs.
She’s still messy, and I know it’s probably uncomfortable for her, but the vision of her like this is going to be burned into my memory forever.
Standing, I reach back and grab the shirt off the door handle and help Savannah into it. Only this time I fasten more buttons, covering her to her throat.
Hands on the shirt collar, holding her in place, I press a kiss to her forehead. “Go up to the car and wait for me. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Letting go with one hand, I take the key fob out of my pocket and hold it out for her. She takes it, but before I let go of her collar, I lower my face to hers. “Do one more thing for me, alright?” She gives me a little nod. “Don’t overthink it, Baby.”
Savannah nods once more, before I let her go, and she climbs the stairs.
* * *
I waituntil I hear the front door of the building open and close, then I head back into the room.
My shirt is still unbuttoned all the way to my waist, but I don’t intend for this to get messy, so I leave it.
The man, Pony, is still right where we left him.
The Alliance has been following him for a while. Tracking his movements, hoping he’ll lead us to someone in charge, because we know he’s involved. He’s always been just a go-between, but he’s involved.
But some of our guys were watching him tonight, when Pony decided it would be a good idea to try and snatch a woman walking home from the bar.
But lucky for her, unlucky for Pony, our men got him in their van before he could get her in his. Which all just means that his usefulness to us is over. Because loose cannons can’t be trusted. And rapists can’t be left alive.
I put my hands on my hips and look down at the slimy fucker. “I had some big plans for you. But I’m feeling pretty good right now, and I’d prefer to keep smelling like my sexy wife’s pussy, and not your bloody carcass, so I think I’d rather just get this over with.”
His eyes widen, and he tries to speak, but the cloth jammed into his mouth, along with the tape circling his head holding it in place, prevent words from forming.
I click my tongue. “The time for talking is over.”
The chair Pony’s sitting on is secured to the floor, but Pony himself isn’t strapped to the chair. He still can’t get away. But we’ve learned how annoying it is to untie a corpse from a chair, so we found a better way.
First we cross the captive’s ankles, so they resemble an X, then we use high strength rope in a figure eight pattern to secure them together. This leaves their knees spread apart and their feet at an angle to the floor. So even if they tried to stand up, they wouldn’t be able to walk.
The hands are simply cuffed behind their back. A tried-and-true method.
And without looking, I know Pony is missing most of his fingernails. Which is how I know he has no more information to share. And why there’s no point in removing his gag.
And then the chain…
One end is padlocked around Pony’s neck, and my eyes trail up the length, to the ceiling where it runs through a series of simple pulleys, before hanging back down to the floor, where it’s secured with a hook.