Save Me from Dangerous Men (Nikki Griffin #1)(69)

I tried to tell him to shut up but my voice was muffled around the mouth guard and I could only mumble. The big guy laughed. “Don’t worry, junkie. Plenty for you, too. But first your arrogant bitch sister needs a drink of the juice.”

“Before we start,” Joseph was saying, “I’m going to do you a favor. I’m going to tell you something important. Five seconds. Do you understand what I mean?”

I looked at the wall in front of me. Said nothing.

“That’s how long the first time will last. This is the only time I’ll tell you how long. And this will be the shortest of the night. Remember that, when you’re trying to count to five.”

“Please,” said Brandon again. Louder.

“Shut up.” The man in the charcoal suit gave him a hard, open-handed smack against the face. My brother’s head jerked back. I managed to get out of the chair but the big guy laughed again and pushed me down easily. I stopped struggling and focused on what was coming. Trying to put my thoughts far away. Away from this room and these men. Away from the rubber taste in my mouth and the cold clamps against my skin. The three of them were staring openly at me. Curious. Like I was a lab mouse. Wanting to see how I took it. The big guy watched me with special intensity. An almost sexual anticipation. Greedy, eager, like I was performing a striptease just for him.

“Ready?” Joseph asked. Wires ran to a control panel that he held in both hands, like he was operating a remote-control airplane.

I didn’t answer.

He adjusted a dial.

He fastened his eyes on me and hit a switch.

Liquid fire filled me from arms to legs to face. My body was on fire from the inside out. My face was on fire deep within the skin. My eyes felt like they’d pop out of their sockets and I felt a horrible grip over my very organs, as if they were being squeezed into pulp. I was vaguely conscious of my teeth burrowing into the hard rubber in my mouth. I didn’t know if one or one hundred seconds had gone by. Space and time had ceased to exist. Just pain. Nothing else.

The pain was gone as instantaneously as it had arrived.

I was conscious of the world again. I smelled burnt flesh and spat out the mouth guard. I became aware that I was screaming and managed to quiet. The screaming continued and I realized the sound was coming from my brother. The big guy was watching me with even more hunger. “Some people piss themselves, even the first time. Did you?”

Brandon was still screaming. The man in the charcoal suit slapped him twice more, hard. Brandon quieted, vivid marks on his thin cheeks. They were taking the clamps off of me, putting them on my brother’s wrists. “Don’t,” I said. “He’s got a weak heart. It will kill him.”

The big guy looked at me. “Your junkie brother should pray to God he has a heart attack bad enough to finish him off. It would be the luckiest day of his worthless life.”

I already knew I was going to try to stop them. They did, too. I could see it. I didn’t care. The Beretta lay on the coffee table. Maybe, somehow, I could reach it.

“Ready, junkie?” Joseph asked. “Five seconds. Same as she got.”

He fiddled with the dials again. His hand moved closer to the switch.

I took a breath. Blew it out. Tensing in the chair.

The front door opened.

All five of us turned our heads in surprise. It was Eric, with the green Mohawk. Standing in the doorway looking just as surprised as we were. The big guy moved quickly. Bounded over and pushed the door shut behind him. Joseph was on his feet. He glared at Eric. “How did you get in here?”

Eric swiveled his head toward Joseph and slowly lit a cigarette. He was high out of his mind. His pupils were shiny little points. He held an open Twix bar in one hand and a grease-stained McDonald’s bag in the other. He took two slow steps into the apartment. “I have a key,” he said. “That’s how.” He tucked his cigarette into the corner of his mouth and held up a brass key as if to offer proof.

“You gave him a key to your apartment?” I exclaimed. “Seriously?”

“He had nowhere to stay, Nik,” protested my brother.

“What’s going on?” Eric looked around suspiciously. He must have shot up very recently. An easy way to tell. Because he wasn’t flat-out terrified. Any normal, sober person would have been frantically out the door after one look. But stoned as he was, Eric wasn’t blind. A vague look of worry settled over his face as his eyes took in the three men. “Is this a bust?”

The big guy laughed. “He’s junkie number two, that’s all.”

“Hey, man!” said Eric. “Screw you! I’m no junkie.” He took a slow bite of his Twix. Chocolate crumbs flecked his shirt. “Who are these people, Brandon?” He took a closer look at my brother. Saw the duct tape and alligator clamps. He might have been high, but he wasn’t dumb. Every instinct of self-preservation seemed to fire up at once. His eyes darted around. “I’ll come back later,” he said, and started backing toward the door.

“Wait!” said Joseph. “Take this, to be quiet about what you saw.”

Eric looked over. Seeing the wad of hundred-dollar bills held in Joseph’s outstretched left hand. Almost at the door, he stopped. Looking at the outstretched cash.

Hundred-dollar bills.

Irresistible.

“You should probably run, Eric,” I advised. “Right now.”