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Fury boiled in my chest.

Gatling told me everything while I was tugging on my boots over the phone—the intruder watching the house, the break in, the switchblade, Hattie defending herself…

If I had been with her all this time, I could have protected her. Could have prevented those bastards from getting anywherenear her in the first place, let alone close enough to pull a damn knife on her.

“String him up,” I said in a cold, hard voice.

Gatling, Blackbeard, and Big G moved like cogs in a well-oiled machine. While Cooley screeched in protest and struggled, Gatling held him down. Big G peeled off Cooley’s shirt. Blackbeard grabbed the chain attached to the hoist in the ceiling, wrapping it around Cooley’s cuffed wrists.

Within seconds, Cooley was suspended with his arms above his head, ribs heaving, breathing fast and shallow like a frightened rabbit.

“Soak him,” I said.

Gatling stepped outside and returned with a five gallon bucket of water, ice cubes sloshing over the sides. He splashed it in Cooley’s face, making him sputter.

“What the—what thefuckare you doing!?” Cooley shrieked. “Let me go. I’ll cooperate. I’ll do whatever you want.”

I tossed the switchblade in my palm.

“It’s too late to negotiate,” I said. “Now it’s time for the consequences of your actions.”

Cooley sucked in a sharp breath, teeth chattering, drenched, and eyes wild with fear. Blackbeard brandished his knife, trailing the tip through the spaces between Cooley’s ribs, down his abdomen. He hooked the blade into the waistband of Cooley’s pants and released it with a snap. Cooley flinched, nostrils flared, fighting back a whimper.

“Where's your friend, Barber?" Blackbeard said.

Cooley shifted his gaze up to the ceiling, shivering.

“I don’t know.”

Blackbeard applied just enough pressure with the blade’s tip above Cooley’s stomach that his skin bowed inward, but didn’t break.

“Not the right answer."

Big G spoke up, leaning back against a tool bench, legs crossed at the ankles as he examined a hammer.

“You should know Blackbeard has a few years of medical training. Give him a scalpel and he can cut you open from stem to stern like hot butter on a summer’s day.”

Cooley swore under his breath and thrashed like a worm on a hook.

Big G tapped the hammer’s head in his palm.

“I prefer a more direct route. Break your kneecaps and you’ll squeal like a pig. Works every time.”

Cooley spat a colorful flood of obscenities.

I waved them off. Blackbeard and Gatling retreated, leaving Cooley exposed for me. I stepped forward, gazing at him with disdain. Revulsion grew cloying in my throat at the thought of this fucker anywhere near my Hattie, let alone threatening her.

“I will say this only once,” I said in a level tone. “Tell me where Barber is.”

Cooley grunted as he strained against the chains.

“Look, I swear, I don’t know. We’ve been holed up in this motel on Dakota Drive for the past week or so. Really charming place with fucking mushrooms growing in the bathroom. Before that, Barber and I split up to cover our tracks, in case the cops were tailing us. I was supposed to handle the woman, he was supposed to take care of food, cash, and gear so we could get the hell out of this town. We were only waiting around for the trial. If Rudy was found not guilty, we were going to grab him and go. If he went to jail…well…he was on his own and he knew that.”

“Your buddy could rat you out for leaving him behind,” I said.

Cooley huffed a dry laugh.

“Wouldn’t doubt it. We’re not besties or anything. It’s every man for himself. He knows that. We all do.”