Secrets We Hunt (One Night #2)(21)

“Andrew,” I say, matching his tone before I push my way past him and into his house. I feel the guys follow me inside.

“Please, come in,” he says dryly. I look around his mundane living room. It looks like it was decorated a decade ago and never touched since.

“I’ll get straight to the point, Andrew,” I tell him. I turn around, and he’s still standing in his little foyer, his arms crossed, with Greg and Pyro flanking him. “I know what you did to Zo?.”

“That’s what this is about?” he asks, rolling his eyes. The outright disrespect almost makes me black out in anger. “The girl asked for it, Wesley. She was on me like a bitch in heat from the moment she turned eighteen. And if we’re being honest, she had a thing for me before she was legal. She was always hanging around me, flaunting that tight little body in her cheerleading uniform.” He takes a few steps toward me. “Let me guess, you’ve had a taste of that sweet pussy? It’s good, isn’t it?”

I throw a punch, and he goes down like a sack of shit. He groans and wipes blood from his mouth and nose. Before he can stand up, I kick him in the stomach and then again in the ribs, feeling euphoric when he screams. He spits blood at my boots, and I squat down to his level.

“I’m going to beat you until you’re on the brink of death, Uncle,” I tell him, reaching out quickly and grabbing his hand, twisting it to break his wrist. He cries out and rolls on his back, holding his limp wrist to his chest. “I won’t leave this house until you’re begging me to end your miserable excuse for a life.”

“I’ll check the rest of the house, make sure there’s no stowaways,” Greg says, stomping off up the stairs.

“I got downstairs,” Pyro shouts up to him before jogging off.

I grab him and pull him back to his feet. He wobbles and clutches his broken wrist to his chest as he groans.

“You touched her without her permission,” I say, holding his shoulder as I throw a punch to his gut. “You raped her, taking something from her that she can never fucking get back.” Another swing. He coughs, and blood spews across my shirt and face.

“All of this over a piece of pussy?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he tries to catch his breath. He’s bent over at the waist, leaning his weight into my grip.

I knee him in the groin and let him fall. I grab his unbroken arm, twisting it around so that he’s forced to lie on his stomach and kick it at the elbow. It bends at the incorrect angle as he screams, and drool sprays onto the hardwood floor beneath him.

“Gnarly,” Pyro exclaims with a smile as he walks back into the front of the house. Greg joins us at about that time, scrunching his nose at the sight.

“That has to hurt,” he says.

“You fucking think so?” Uncle Andrew screams at him, his face red and spit flying from his mouth.

“House is clear,” Greg says, ignoring the asshole at my feet.

“Good,” I answer them, squatting down again and lifting my uncle by the back of his head. He’s got sweat streaming down his face, mixing with the blood that’s pooled in his beard. I punch him right across his cheekbone, and his eyes roll back in his head. His body is limp as he struggles to focus on me.

“Pick him up,” I tell them, and they each grab an arm, lifting him back to his feet as he cries out again with the pain. The moment they have him upright, I swing again, the pain of the hit to his ribs radiating through my forearm. I don’t even care. The pain anchors me, makes me remember why I’m doing this, what Zo? must’ve gone through that night.

“Done yet?” I ask him.

He spits at my feet again and looks up at me, his face bloody and quickly turning black and blue. I knee him in the balls again, and he doubles over, vomit spewing from his mouth. I scurry back as both boys drop him at the same time.

I can’t help but laugh as he face-plants in it, both of his arms useless to hold him up. I shove him a bit with the toe of my boots, scooting him out of the worst of it. It smells fucking awful in here now.

“Enough!” he shouts, coughing and choking on the vomit and blood. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m fucking sorry.” He’s starting to cry now, blubbering with snot running down his nose and looking exactly like the sack of worthless shit he is.

“If I could kill you, I would,” I tell him. “I would string you up in a basement somewhere and torture you for days on end before I ended your shitty little life. But this will have to do. Just know, I have people watching you, Andrew,” I threaten “I will be watching every little fucking step you make for the rest of your life, and if I see you so much as look at a woman in the wrong way, I will fucking end you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Jesus fucking Christ, I understand,” he says, trying to curl up on himself.

“And if you breathe a word of what happened here, it’s going to get really ugly. The shit I have on you,” I say, laughing as his eyes widen. “Who knew that your entire fortune would be built on a lie? The sheer amount of money laundering you’ve done is astounding.”

Thank God for Owen’s connections and Greg’s skills with a computer, or we never would’ve been able to find the shit on him that we did.

“There’s enough there to put you away for life.” I smile down at him. “And who knows? Maybe we’ll let it leak anyway. What do you think, boys?” I ask, looking up at Greg and Pyro as they stare down at him.