Page 36 of Wicked Riddles & Bitter Heartbeats (Till Death Do Us Part #1)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Atticus

My brother and I move into the large room where Frank is strapped to the chair. His head is slouched forward, but his chest is moving.

Lilah is hiding, like I told her too. I’d rather my brother not know about her just yet, because it puts her at risk.

This room is empty outside of one large piece of machinery in the far corner.

Armed with Frank’s gun, she’s over there, waiting.

She said she has some experience shooting guns, but she’s not great.

Hopefully she’s good enough to kill someone if things go crooked and not hit me accidentally.

“This is Fr—”

“Frank Spencer,” my brother says.

“How do you know that?” I ask calmly, not wanting to give away how shocked I am that he knows him. This could be very bad… or possibly, really good.

Frank is in the FBI. He lives in Virginia. It was a shock to Lilah that he was in this area, since he swore he would never come back. Though, I suppose the conference in Hartford isn’t technically going back to Boston, even though a lot of people consider New England one big place.

“I’ve had my eye on him for a long time,” my brother says. I don’t miss the slight pitch of his voice.

He’s excited.

“Why?” I ask.

“My mother—our mother was not a smart woman. She would sell herself to get us a warm place to sleep or food. The men she chose weren’t nice and they didn’t always like legal-aged women.

I saw many things over the years, and as I got older, my urges became harder to ignore.

The first man I ever killed was some guy she was fucking for twenty bucks so we could get some groceries.

He got what he paid for, but then he wanted more.

Mom was… not great, but no means no. So, I killed him. ”

This could all be bullshit, just part of his cover story. Just more to get me to confess. But he doesn’t have to keep going. Wouldn’t this be enough to bad me? Honestly, I don’t know, and I don’t care either.

Deep in my gut, it feels like my brother is telling the truth, and so I want to hear more.

“That’s when we moved here,” he says, glancing at me. “It wasn’t my choice to come here, it was hers. Maybe she knew it’s where you were?”

I grit my teeth, not allowing those thoughts into my head. Not once did I consider she looked for me after the fact, and I don’t need those thoughts fucking with me. So I give a slight shake of my head. James seems to understand and he continues.

“Mom took all the money he had, and we came to Boston. Life didn’t change much, until she died.

I’d killed a handful of people before I went to the academy.

I assumed after she died, my urges would stop.

I was sure they were only there because of her.

After all, everyone I killed was because of her.

But then I saw things. Murderers. Rapists.

Traffickers. I watched as they got away with the awful things they did.

I saw a crooked system. I saw an opportunity, and I took it. ”

His jaw works as he stares at Frank with the same amount of hatred that’s burning in my chest.

“The first time I met Frank was at a conference about five years back. I knew there was something off about him the moment I saw him. After seeing these people for years, after witnessing so much bullshit, you just… know the bad guys. And he was a bad guy. So, I looked into him. I had no proof, but I was sure he was a pedophile. Fucking sure of it. But I couldn’t do anything about it. ”

Does this prove he’s being truthful? Or does him knowing about the fucked up shit Frank Spencer did just mean the system is more crooked than we know? That cops know others are doing fucked up shit and they look the other way?

“Because of who he was,” I add, needing more information. I need to hear everything he has to say.

James nods, looking over at me. “He was untouchable.”

I smirk. “Clearly not.”

“How did you get him here?”

I think on that for a moment. I will not tell him about Lilah. Not yet. Though his story is believable, I won’t risk Lilah. It’s too soon. I don’t trust James yet.

“Someone I know was a victim.”

James' eyes widen. “You’re serious?”

I nod. “She lured him here for me.”

“You’re going to kill him.”

“I am going to kill him,” I state. “I was going to pin it on you, but…” I watch him carefully before saying, “How do I know you aren’t lying to me? How do I know you aren’t wearing a wire or a camera?”

“You don’t. I guess you just have to trust me.”

He turns to face me fully, his eyes that are so much like mine flicker with excitement. Something in my chest gets a little tight. I want to believe him. But is that getting in the way of my instincts? I’ve always listened to my gut. But tonight, I’m not so sure I should.

“I’ll trust you if you kill him,” I say.

“I didn’t bring any of my things.”

“Improvise.”

His gaze goes to the duffel bag on the floor. With a nod, he walks over to it and digs through it. When he straightens, it’s the hammer in his hand.

“This will work,” he says, tapping the head onto his open palm.

“How do you normally do it?” I ask, clasping my hands together behind my back and walking to my brother’s side.

“Strangulation. You?”

I shrug. “Whatever feels right.”

“These recent killings weren’t your first.”

I shake my head. “Not even close.”

Nodding, he moves closer to Frank and raises the hammer back, aiming it at the back of his head. It’s a smart move. He’s about to swing it forward when I say, “Wait.”

His eyes flick up to me, brows furrowed. Is that disappointment I send?

I wasn’t actually going to let him kill Frank with a blow to the back of the head, and I’m offended that, after knowing what he’s done, he thinks he deserves a death so quick.

Frank can’t die so easily. Yes, I wanted to see if James would do it, but I can’t let him do it. This man hurt my kitten. He has to pay first.

“It can’t be so simple.”

James frowns. “I thought you wanted me to kill him?”

“I do, if only to prove I can trust you. I do want him dead, but he has to pay first. This man hurt my girlfriend.”

James holds my gaze as he lowers the hammer.

“You have a girlfriend?” I nod, smirking. “And she knows about all this?” Again, I nod. “She knows and… she’s okay with it?”

“More than okay,” I say.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “I didn’t think… I thought…” Swallowing, he looks at me. “It’s why I never married. I was worried that it would be too difficult to hide.

Oh, brother. You have so much to learn.

With a shake of his head, he goes to the duffel and digs through it again. He pulls out the container of nails and holds them up.

“This should do?”

“There are smelling salts in the outside pocket,” I say, happy with his line of thinking.

James digs them out and hands them over but pulls them away before I can grab them.

“What is your name?” he asks.

I regard him for a moment but decide there’s no harm in telling him. I’m still on guard. I’ll still kill him if I have to. Act now, figure it out later, I guess. I’m in too deep for this to be a clean getaway.

“Atticus.”

“That’s an interesting name.”

He gives me the smelling salt. I tear it open and shove it under Frank’s nose.

He gasps, jerking backward then coughing.

It takes a moment, but his eyes focus on us.

There’s duct tape over his mouth, so all he can do is make grunting and groaning sounds.

The fear is clear in his eyes though, masked behind is annoyance. Fucking arrogant prick.

“You fucked with the wrong person, buddy,” James says, pointing at Frank with the hammer.

You can tell by the look on Frank’s face that he doesn’t recognize James. When his gaze licks to me, they darken with anger.

I pop open the nails, pull one out, and hold my hand out for the hammer. James hands it to me. I press the nail to Frank’s skin, pushing down and he groans, eyes squeezing closed. His fingers move, but he can’t move his wrist since it’s tightly chained to the chair.

Torture isn’t usually my thing, at least, as far as I can remember, but I am thrilled to inflict pain on this piece of shit.

“This will be easier if you stay still,” I say, but of course he doesn’t. “Suit yourself, asshole.”

I rear the hammer back and slam it down, hitting the nail right on the head. Sweet, sweet, revenge. The nail goes in maybe an inch, and it’s a four inch nail. We’ve got a lot to go.

A high-pitched sound leaves Frank, every part of his body that isn’t held down is moving. Tears are in his eyes, his face turning red. I hammer the nail until the head is flush with his skin and the bottom deep into the chair arm.

“Your turn.” I offer James the hammer.

He takes it without hesitation, lines a nail up behind the one I just put in and goes to town.

“Torture isn’t usually my thing,” I say.

“It’s my favorite.”

Perhaps it’s because I don’t have personal reasons for killing the people I kill. I just… feed my darkness. It’s only until I’ve met Lilah that I started killing people who deserve it. It seems James has been doing that all along. He picks his people purposefully. There is meaning behind his kills.

We take turns putting nails into Frank’s hands. Through his palms, his fingers, and even his wrist. James works his way up his arm, but at some point, they’re too thick to reach the chair. But we’re bonding here, so we continue to hammer nails through his biceps.

“I want a turn.”

James and I both whirl around. I’d forgotten she was here. He had no idea. His hand is on his gun. I hold my arm out.

“She’s with me.”

Looking from me to James, fear and determination in her eyes, she moves closer.

I offer her the bloody hammer, and James relaxes.

. She takes it, and James and I move out of the way to give her room.

Instead of taking the nail that is offered to her by James, she rears the hammer back and slams it down on Frank’s balls.

I cringe. So does James. Frank cries out, so many tears pouring down his face that it’s loosening the duct tape.

All his yelling isn’t helping either. When he stops shouting and goes limp, Lilah keeps going.

She destroys his dick the same way I destroyed her ex’s throat.

Fuck, I really love this girl.