The Butcher of the Bay Part II - J. Bree Page 0,85
least he was wearing one, probably because he didn’t want to have to pay off a baby mama, but the girl rolls off of the bed and scoots back until her back hits the wall. She has no fucking clue of what’s going on right now, but she sure as shit knows who I am.
She shuts her eyes.
“Get the fuck out of my room before I call the cops on you! I’m not going anywhere with some gangbanger thug.” He spits as he talks, his entire demeanor still arrogant and furious. He has no idea how fucked he really is.
I take the safety off of the gun.
“Not asking again, Bingley. Put a shirt on and get moving, I have other appointments to get to.”
He swears and moves to stalk around the bed, heading towards the kid who is now rocking just a little. She’s mumbling under her breath, an old lullaby like she’s calming herself down.
Something in me snaps.
I shoot the pedophile rapist in the leg and he drops to the ground screaming. I hear doors opening in the corridor but the bellboy starts coaxing them back into their rooms, just like I asked him to. I walk over to Bingley slowly, my gun still in one hand and swiping up one of my cleavers in the other. His screams quieten down to rough groans as he pants through the pain.
“You seem to be confused about what’s happening here. You’re not the one calling the shots, you’re the scumbag rapist who’s coming downstairs with me. The kid is leaving here without ever touching your dick.”
His eyes are still full of that arrogant fury but he’s changed his tone when he says, “Whatever you’re being paid, I’ll match it. Whoever is paying you, I can pay more. I’m a very rich man.”
I smirk and lift the cleaver, pressing the sharp edge of it against his cheek. One movement and I’ll slice through the skin and muscle, filet him to the fucking bone.
The Crow said nothing about having him untouched, whole, or even just slightly maimed.
“You don’t seem to understand what is happening here so let me introduce myself. I’m the Butcher of the Bay. There is no bargaining, nothing you can say that would get you out of this. There’s only me getting the job done and I’ll let you in on a little secret.”
I lean down to whisper in his ear, the acrid scent of his terror like a hit of cocaine through my nostrils. “The second I saw the kid, it was game over for you. Rapists deserve nothing more than a blood-soaked, screaming death.”
Then I knock him out with the butt of the gun.
I don’t want him getting another fucking word in, the whole lot of it a steaming pile of useless bullshit. Once I’m sure he’s out I cable tie his wrists together, wrap a quick tourniquet around the bullet wound so the piece of shit doesn’t bleed out and then I stick a gag in his mouth.
Useful tool for my line of work.
Then I straighten up and look over the kid. She’s still humming away, her eyes screwed shut as she rocks gently.
I look around until I find Bingley’s wallet, a couple of grand in cash and eight credit cards sitting pretty in there.
“Get up, kid. Here’s your money, get out of here. Try to make it last long enough that you don’t have to do this shit again.”
Her eyes blink open and she stares at me like I’m every fucking monster she’s ever thought hid in the shadows. “I won’t say anything.”
I nod and throw the wallet down at her feet. “I know, because if you did tell someone I’d be forced to kill you. Neither of us want that. Mounties know better than running their mouths, right?”
She nods back at me, her bony little hand creeping out to clutch at the wallet and then she’s cradling it to her chest.
“How old are you, kid? The truth, not what you tell the cops.”
She bites at her lip. “I’m fifteen. I’m not a kid, I can work if I want to.”
I grimace. She looks about eight but food deprivation will do that to you. “You can but guys like that would kill you without feeling a fucking thing about it. Don’t waste that money on drugs. Eat and stay clean, for fuck’s sake.”
She nods but doesn’t move. I get it, she doesn’t trust that I’m letting her out of here alive. I guess her interactions with