Page 26 of Keeping Her Under (Deranged Highway, #1)

Twenty-Six

An hour or so later, I rest my head on Summer’s thigh, panting hard. My balls are so fucking blue that I fear I’ll come if I lick her one more time. Just the smell of her pussy is luring me closer and closer to an eruption.

Straining against my desire to slip my cock inside her, I force myself out of her bed so I can clean her up. I stroke her pussy as I wipe away my saliva. I pinch her nipples after I rearrange her gown. My balls tighten like a noose. Ready to hang me the moment I step outside with an angry erection.

I turn away from her, breathing heavily. I need to get it to go down before I can move through the hospital. People won’t give a random man a second glance, but they’ll remember the creep who got a hard-on when surrounded by so much death and misery.

My burner phone buzzes with Ryan’s text. Shit. I have to leave now.

I tuck my cock up in my waistband, then bow my shoulders forward, letting the hem of my shirt hang in front of my pants. It’s not the most gracious, but people won’t pay much attention to a hobbling old man in a hospital.

I step out of her room and hurry through the empty ICU, then slow my pace in the hall. I enter the stairway and concentrate on my breathing. And when that doesn’t work, I think about the fucker in my basement.

About the texts he sent my future wife.

About all the things he would’ve said and done to her when I wasn’t there to protect her.

My arousal shifts into anger. My cock falls a bit, but it still lingers as a semi. But that’s enough to hide in my waistband while standing upright.

After changing in my van, I head back inside for my shift. I go through the motions needed for work as I count down the minutes until I can go home.

But every second thought gets me harder and harder.

While I play on my phone during surgery, the beckoning of the teddy cam app gets me rock hard and leaking.

I’m constantly juggling to get it to go down.

I can’t even go pee because any time I touch myself, it jumps to attention.

My bladder is pressing on my prostate, and that’s making me even more crazy.

When my workday is finally over and I park my van in my garage, I let out a half-sigh, half-groan.

I lean back in my seat as the roller comes down behind me.

My cock instantly springs to life again.

I undo the button on my pants and pull myself free of the fabric.

The air makes me harder. Fuck. I need to come.

I need to come. I can’t take it anymore.

But when my fingers wrap around my aching flesh, they graze the S branded into the base of me.

I freeze, my muscles clenched tight.

I promised her I would always put her first.

Shuddering in shame, I release myself.

Climbing out of the car with an aching erection, I head into the house through the connecting door. I collect a few things, putting them into a box as the radio blares. It’s on too loud for comfort, but it’s doing its job of hiding Lance’s screams. I don’t hear him until I open the basement door.

“– gonna kill you! You mother fucker!”

That’s Asher’s domain, I think to myself with a soft chuckle. Shifting the box of goods I’m carrying under one arm, I use my free hand to tuck my semi into my pants. Then I hold the box in both hands again as I finish my descent.

A home gym spreads out in front of me. Most of the equipment I have never used.

I bought it all for Asher. I have a much higher income than he does, but he refuses to take any money from me, so I buy him gifts I claim are for me.

He sees right through it, of course, but it allows him to keep his pride.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” Lance screams as soon as he sees me, but he doesn’t tug against his binds.

We’ve tied him to a pull-up dip station.

His arms are extended and spread above his head, the ropes going from his wrists to the highest bar.

His legs are also spread, but we put his feet on the metal bars that make up the bottom of the station rather than flat against the floor.

This way, his own weight will cause him pain.

He’s pressed against the small square backrest, but even that doesn’t give him any relief. Because I drilled twenty-seven two-inch screws through it and into his back. If he wants to move, he’ll have to rip them out of his flesh first.

I walk over to him as he continues to scream. As I put the cardboard box down on the bench press beside him, I talk at normal volume. “You’re here because of what you did to Summer.”

“– you to my dogs!” He pauses for a second, then snorts, “Summer? I ain’t touch her! The bitch drove into that tree herself!”

I punch him in the chest, driving him back onto the screws. He screams as blood drips down onto the floor, right onto the tarp we laid out beneath it before we tied him down.

Going calmly back to the box, I pull out a scalpel. “I know you saw her that morning.”

“I ain’t seen –”

I slash him across the forehead. It’s a shallow cut, but the face bleeds a lot due to all the blood vessels. He screams as red runs into his eyes.

“I have her phone. I know what you did to her.”

“I ain’t did –”

Another slice. Another scream.

“You’re not very bright, are you?” I say.

“You calling me stupid?”

“A smart person wouldn’t have to ask.”

“Huh? You mother fu– Ahhhh!”

The next cut slices diagonally across the outside of his cheek.

Bit by bit, I will carve his face off. But I don’t want him going into shock or passing out, so I clean the scalpel on his shirt, then place it on the bench.

Getting out the roll of paper towels, I lay a few squares of it down, then chuck it back in the box. Next I grab the scissors.

“You going to stab me, bitch?”

“No.” Starting at the bottom of his shirt, I cut it up the middle.

“What the fuck are you doing?” His voice rises in a panic.

I calmly cut through the straps of his white tank top. Pushing the fabric back, I let it hang on the screws. Then I work on cutting off his shorts.

“I ain’t fucking gay!” he screams before throwing slurs at me. I count each and every one. Then I pick the scalpel up and tally them into his skin.

Not for Summer, but for Asher.

Lance might have never met us before; he might not have even been born when Asher got beat up for liking dick, but he’s part of the community that ostracized my cousin. He supports it. He partakes in it. And he will fucking pay for it.

I slice his chest until he’s a whimpering mess. I place the blade beneath his left nipple.

“You saw her that morning,” I say as I straighten. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing!”

I cut his nipple off with a flick of my wrist, then move to his other one as he screams. “You tracked her down, texted her, and then did nothing?”

“I was going to! But the bitch left!”

“You follow her?”

“My fucking car wouldn’t start!”

So she crashed into the tree herself. But was she driving in a panic and simply took the corner too fast? Or did she do it on purpose, scared he’d find her again? Either way, it happened because of him.

Pulling out my phone, I call Asher. As soon as he picks up, I say, “Bring the dogs over.”

I hang up before he can ask any questions. Then I turn my attention back to Lance. “How many times did you hit her?”

I pick the scalpel up. His eyes fly to it. The pain on his face is erased by rage. “The fucking bitch deserved it! And I’m going to beat your ass too, you mother fucker!” He tries to jerk towards me, only to flinch back in pain.

“Well?” I taunt, standing still.

“Untie me then, you fucking fa–”

My hand snaps forward. I place the scalpel inside his mouth. It’s angled against one corner of his lips.

His slur dies quick.

I cut him anyway, slicing his cheek all the way through.

He screams.

Spittle and blood flies onto me. He jerks free of some of his screws if the gush of blood is anything to go by. I glance down at the puddle of red on the floor, calculating if I need to patch him up before I continue. I don’t want him bleeding out on me, but he doesn’t look to have lost that much.

Turning back to the box, I grab a fresh lemon and start to peel it with the scalpel. Then I crouch down and cut him dozens of times across the top of his feet. He screams in utter agony. I stab the blade into the lemon, getting it all nice and wet.

I move up his ankles. His shins. I get up to his waist by the time Asher arrives.

The dogs start barking and snarling immediately. My cousin curses as he struggles to hold them. The hairs on my neck stand up, and I turn around, ready to kill them if they lunge for me.

But Asher has them muzzled.

Fuck. He’ll never forgive me if I kill them now.

“My dogs… kill you,” Lance laughs, his breathing labored. His words are slurred due to the cut in his cheek. “Sick ‘em, boys!”

They lunge forward, but on Asher’s whistle, they immediately halt. Their bodies quake as they look between their two masters.

Asher pulls out two slices of ham from the small rock-climbing pouch he has clipped to one of his belt loops. The dogs immediately go to him. He squats down to feed them through their muzzles.

“Come here!”

They flinch at Lance’s shout, but they turn to face him, and a small part of me softens towards them. Dogs give their loyalty even when they’re beaten. They give their love even when they’re afraid.

As the two of them duck their heads and step forward, Asher moves in front of them. They stop and look up at him, and I see the same confusion in their eyes that I want to see in Summer’s.

You’re protecting me? Me?

The rest of my anger at them fading, I turn back to Lance.

He continues to shout commands at them, but his words are slurring more and more.

Reaching up, I cut two triangles out of his forearm.

I keep hold of the chunks of flesh rather than letting them fall to the floor.

Then I tilt his chin up and wipe the blood off his brow so he can open his eyes.

Fear fills them as he sees what I’m holding.

Smiling at him, I toss the two bloody triangles over my shoulder.

The dogs scurry across the floor, their nails loud in the sudden silence.

“You told her you’d let your dogs fuck her and eat her,” I say calmly.

His face pales. “It was... a joke…”

“It was so funny,” I agree, “and I’ve always been a fan of comedy.”

Squatting down, I untie the rope at his ankles. His feet slip off the metal bars he was balancing on. He drops hard. The screws rip up his back, then his shoulders go pop!

As he cries out, I stand up to undo the ties at his wrists.

He collapses to the ground, his body too fucked up to stand.

I shove everything off the bench press, then drag his upper body onto it face down.

He tries to fight me while he’s on his knees, but he’s too weak from blood loss.

I stretch his arms down the length of the bench and tie him to it tight.

Pulling out my cock, I rub my thumb across the S branded into my flesh and piss all over his face.

The dogs bark and snarl, wanting another piece of meat. As they lunge at the end of their leads, my cousin digs his heals in, struggling to hold them.

Lance twists his head to look at them. His eyes widening, he begs me to not go through with this.

She begged you not to text her.

He screams that he’ll pay me anything.

With the money you stole from her.

He cries for God to save him.

Ask him face-to-face.

Shaking out the last of my piss, I tuck my cock into my pants. I look down at him with a smile.

Then I leave him to the dogs.