The Butcher of the Bay Part II - J. Bree Page 0,86
every other fucking guy on this planet would do that to her.
I can’t keep thinking about her, or the countless other kids around here being starved and abused right this fucking second, so I turn on my heel and walk back over to Bingley where he’s trussed up at the end of the bed.
A sharp kick in the gut with one of my boots wakes him up, groaning and gagging behind the cloth in his mouth. The loathing is still in his eyes. Maybe it’s always there, just a part of his DNA that he’s arrogant and doesn’t give a fuck about anyone but himself. A few years back I guess that was me as well, but I don’t think Bingley could ever change the way I have. I don’t think he feels something so human as guilt.
Fuck him.
“Get up. We have somewhere to be.”
He groans but I give him no choice but to stand, my hand tight around his arm as I drag him up to his feet. There’s blood pooling on the ground from the bullet wound to his calf and he’s unsteady on his feet.
Good.
I shove a black bag over his head, the type I order in especially for this type of work with thin fabric that fits into my back pocket but completely blinds the dickhead I put it on, and then I drag him behind me. As we get halfway out the door I cast one last look over my shoulder at the kid but her eyes are closed again as she holds onto the wallet like it’s a fucking life raft.
When I spot the bellboy I peg him with a look. “Guard that door. Don’t let anyone go in there until the kid leaves. She’s coming down from whatever the hell she’s on and if you touch her, I’ll fucking tear you to pieces.”
He startles and nods his head like his life depends on it, moving to stand in front of the door and take up watch.
Bingley scoffs from behind his gag ike I’m being stupid for trying to protect her. I’m not. If the bellboy hadn’t already been disgusted about her being preyed on by this rapist I would’ve dragged her out of here with me.
Besides, he doesn’t realize just how fucking bad it is to be on my bad side.
Mounties all know better.
I stuff Bingley into the trunk of my car.
The BMW has enough space to fit three bodies in if they’re cut up enough but a fully-grown man can be bent and shoved in awkwardly. I’d know.
I’ve had a whole fucking heap of bodies in here in my time.
I call Odie to check in with her and let her know I’ll be a little late. When she answers I practice my French with her.
“Don’t wait up, baby girl. I’ll wake you with my tongue when I get back.”
Her soft giggles down the line are like fucking crack to me, addictive and consuming, I need more.
“Mon Monstre, I’m yours to have as you want. Whatever you desire is yours to take.”
Fuck.
I get off of the phone before I’m tempted to stop off home and eat her up, have her coming on my tongue until her sweetness drips down my chin and I bend her over until she’s screaming my name.
I have to adjust myself, the images of what I want to do to her too vivid in my head while I’m on a job. I’ll be getting enough from the Crow today to take my girl on the best fucking honeymoon she could ever want and that’s too important to flake out on even for tasting her.
I drive like a crazed man, not because I’m in a rush but because I know it’ll be bumping him around and shoving him all over the place. It’s not the type of torture I want to be giving him but I’m working with what I’ve got.
The Crow’s fortress is the stuff of legends.
A cement and stone nightmare, it looks like a bomb shelter surrounded by twelve-foot high fences with barb wire and electric volts running through it. It’s not a place you can sneak into but I’d still put money on the Wolf figuring it the fuck out.
She’s a resourceful little thing.
I hit the intercom and nothing happens. There’s thumping in the trunk and then a smashing sound, the fucking pervert has kicked out the lights from the inside. My jaw clenches and I jab at the intercom again like it’ll suddenly fix fucking everything.