A Chip and a Chair (Seven of Spades, #5)(65)

“No,” Levi choked out, squirming in Tattoo’s grip. The thought of these depraved pigs putting their hands on Adriana . . . No fucking way. He’d suck every cock in this room and beg for more, if that’s what it took to keep her safe.

“Would you morons cut that gay shit out?” yelled one of the men near the door. “You know you’re not supposed to be that close to him. We’re not even supposed to talk to him!”

There were a few terrifying moments in which the men debated their options, before Tattoo released Levi’s throat with a huff and all three of them retreated.

Levi dropped his head, taking shaky breaths and concentrating on calming his roiling stomach. All of his muscles were watery, and his skin was crawling from head to foot.

After that, the men mostly ignored him, and were far more circumspect in their conversations amongst themselves. They rotated in and out of the room as time passed; at one point, Levi was offered bottled water through a straw.

His pain worsened, clouding his mind with a red haze, until it was the only thing he could think about. So when the lights went out, at first he thought he was losing consciousness.

But the other men in the room were exclaiming in confusion, their radios squawking with static. “Hey!” one of them shouted into his unit. “We lost the lights up here.”

“Us too,” responded a crackling voice. “Power’s out to the whole warehouse.”

“What-”

There was an ominous moan of clanging metal, and then the sprinkler system went off, showering the room with cold water. Levi flinched, spitting out his accidental mouthful, and turned his face aside, squeezing his eyes shut against the sudden downpour.

The men spluttered, yelling back and forth to each other as they scrambled around the room, trying to figure out how to stop the sprinklers. Levi heard the door slam open and shut.

Rat-tat-tat-tat.

Levi stiffened at the distant burst of automatic gunfire-but it was drowned out when the warehouse’s speaker system erupted with a deafening cacophony that couldn’t really be called music. It sounded like two screechy heavy metal tracks being played over one another.

He squinted through the gloom and pouring water, watching his captors hold their hands over their ears the way he wished he could. Their mouths were moving, but he couldn’t hear them over the din; he doubted they could hear each other either. Another one darted out of the room, leaving only three behind with Levi.

Law enforcement wouldn’t use these tactics. Cutting the power, sure. Setting off the sprinkler system and blasting the warehouse with what could have been the soundtrack to Hell itself? No. They would have used smoke grenades and flash-bangs.

This was Sawyer.

Levi’s stomach churned as he experienced two wildly divergent reactions simultaneously: relief and bone-deep terror. He wasn’t sure which one he was supposed to feel. Was there an appropriate emotional reaction to being rescued from certain death by a serial killer?

The music cut off abruptly, leaving his ears ringing. The other men tentatively lowered their hands.

“Looks like you got what you wanted,” Levi called over the patter of the still-falling water. “He’s here.”

The men exchanged frightened glances. More gunfire sounded, closer this time-and now, in between Utopia’s rifles, Levi could make out the report of a single, powerful handgun. It fired much less frequently, indicating that the shooter was privileging quality over quantity. And every time that gun went off, somebody screamed.

Levi grinned. “Sounds like he’s pissed.”

The sprinklers shut off with a strained creak, but the lights were still out.

“Stay here,” one of the men said to Goatee.

“Wait-”

His two buddies charged out of the room, guns drawn. Goatee was the only one who remained with Levi.

The “music” started again, even louder this time. Unable to shield his ears, Levi could only grimace and ride it out. Seconds later, the lights began flickering rapidly, like a strobe light in a nightclub; the music cut in and out erratically, switching tracks and sliding up and down in volume at random. The resulting disorientation was nauseating.

In between bursts of music, the gunshots and screaming drew ever closer, and more unintelligible shouts and groans and curses came over Goatee’s radio. Goatee paced back and forth, his gun shaking in his hand.

Just one guy. Even injured, Levi could so easily take one guy. If only he weren’t bound and helpless—

Well, he wasn’t gagged, was he? There had to be some way he could drive Goatee into a frothing panic, maybe enough to make the guy run. But his power, his strength, was all in his body-not his words.

Okay. So what would Dominic do?

The next time the music stopped, Levi said, “All of your friends are dying out there, you know.”

Goatee whirled on him. “Shut up!”

“You thought your little cult was something special?” Levi scoffed. “The Seven of Spades will massacre you all and never even break stride.”

Goatee stomped over, raising his gun threateningly. “I said shut your mouth!”

“He’s coming for me,” Levi said, holding the man’s gaze. “He’ll be here any second. And he’s going to kill you.”

The lights came back on.

Goatee blinked, shaking his head, and groaned in pure animal terror. He turned and ran for the door-but he didn’t have time to reach it before it flew open.