hand shot up to cover his face, Wade grabbed one finger and bent it back until there was an audible snap.
Hope flinched, her face going pale as the guy screamed louder, while Jackson and Navarre acted as though nothing had happened.
Wade’s deep voice cut through the noise. “Shut up or I’ll break another.”
The guy went quiet, his lips pressed into a thin, trembling line as if it took every ounce of his effort not to make a sound.
Austin skidded into the room. “I heard screaming. What’s going—oh.”
Ignoring his brother, Wade dragged a chair over, spun it around, and straddled it as he sat, resting his chest against the back of the chair and crossing his arms over the top of it. “I want to thank you for giving me the chance to apply everything I learned in Guadalajara. And yeah, I remember every last second of the thirteen hours I spent in that warehouse. Want to guess how long you’ll last?” He yanked the knife out of the table, and the guy let out a choked whimper.
In Guadalajara, Aranza and his men had inflicted pain because they could, because they got off on it. In the here and now, Wade had a different objective, which required different tactics. He’d given the asshole a sample of the damage he could inflict. Now he wanted him wondering what he’d do to him next, and how he could stop it from happening.
Wade glanced over the man’s shoulder to Jackson and Navarre. “It’s time we start another pool. I’m going to be optimistic and say I’ll get to work him over for at least ten hours.”
Back home, the guys had a habit of betting on every little thing, from the points spread of football games to how many minutes Nate would be late to a meeting. When Larissa was pregnant, they had pools on which day she’d give birth, the weight of the baby, sex of the baby, and whether her husband Shane would pass out in the delivery room.
Navarre snorted. “That little puke? I give him seven tops.”
“Put me down for four,” Jackson said.
“We don’t have time for this shit,” Austin snapped. “Break him in two, or I’m putting a bullet in him.”
Wade grunted. “You heard the man.”
He broke another finger, and when the guy stopped screaming, Wade leaned in close enough to catch a whiff of stale sweat and desperation.
“It’s in your power to make me stop. Just tell me what I want to know. If you don’t, I’m going to find a sharp object, and then we’ll have some real fun.”
The man’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Do your best. I got nothing to lose.”
“There’s always something to lose. The only challenge is identifying it. In the meantime, let’s explore your threshold for pain. Remember this?” Wade pointed the tip of his knife at the cross-shaped scar on his face. “Your boss carved this on me like I was a fucking piece of wood, to match the one my partner wore. Thought it was real damn funny. It took four surgeries to make me look this good. Let’s see if I can do a better job on you.”
A bead of sweat trickled down the man’s face. “You can’t do that.”
“Wanna bet?”
“You’re a cop!”
“Not anymore. Even if I was, I’m not in the States, and none of this was sanctioned by the Mexican government. But don’t worry. I want you to live long enough to serve as a message for the others.” Wade stood, paused a few moments to see if he’d talk, and when he didn’t, his gaze flicked to Jackson and Navarre. “Hold his legs open. I want to find a hammer.”
“Wait!” The word came out in a panicked screech.
Wade arched one eyebrow. “Give me one reason why I should.”
The man’s breath came out in short, shallow pants as his eyes darted about the room. His gaze landed on Hope, most likely because he assumed a woman would be the soft touch of the group. He wasn’t wrong, but it wouldn’t matter. “It’s not my fault. I was following orders.”
Ah, the Nuremberg defense, popular with scumbags around the globe, though not particularly creative. “No decent human being would have followed those orders. You enjoyed every second of what you did to me and Special Agent Carmen Lopez. Now talk. We’ll start with something easy: your name.”
“Salazar. Javier Enrique Gutierrez Salazar.”
“See, that wasn’t so hard.”
“Please, I got a wife. Four kids. My son is only two. Without me to support them,