Hooked (Never After, #1)(66)

“Tell me.” I walk toward the man, bound and gagged. I rip the white cloth from his mouth, making him sputter and cough as he inhales deep breaths. My knife slides across his cheek. “What is your name?”

“To-Tommy.”

“Tommy.” I nod. “And Tommy, what was it you hoped to gain from betraying me?”

He swallows, looking to the side. My gloved fingers grip his chin, forcing him to meet my gaze, my knife pressing against his mouth, drops of blood forming from the pressure of the blade against his skin. “I do not have time for hesitation, Tommy. So let’s stop wasting precious seconds and get to the point. You will not be leaving here alive.” I pat his cheek, releasing his face.

“But I’m a fair man.” I back away, rolling my shirt sleeves up my forearms. “I’ll let you choose whether your death is painful or swift.”

He’s silent.

I lift my arms to the side. “Well? What will it be?”

“It was a woman,” he rushes out. “She came around a few months ago, started hanging out with us a bit, you know? Started uh...” His eyes bounce around the room, to the twins and Starkey, who stand behind me, then back to me. “Started sleeping around. Telling us all about her boss and how he could take better care of us. Give us more than what we’ve been—”

He hesitates, and my chin lifts. “More than what?”

“Uh… more than what we’ve been given.”

My jaw tics, anger sizzling through my insides. I twist, looking to the boys. “Am I not a giving employer?” I turn back to Tommy. “Do I not allow you unfettered access to your product and to my streets?”

His eyes widen. “No—No, you are. It’s just… look, I wanted to say no. But I want to be part of something, man.” He leans in. “I wanted to get the mark.”

Interest settles deep in my gut. Finally, new information. “And what mark is this?”

“It’s a tattoo. So fucking cool, bro.”

Annoyance snaps at my senses, breaking away the vestiges of my control.

“I see,” I say as I step closer. My hand slams down, the tip of my blade slicing through his tendons like butter, lodging deep in his thigh. He screams, the sound grating against my ears and scratching down my insides.

My palm covers his mouth, muffling the noise, and I lean in, my face inches from his. “Do you know my favorite part about knives?” My other hand, still on the end of my blade, starts twisting slowly, pushing through the resistance of the muscle. “It’s the ability to be so delicately precise. You see, three inches over, and I would have spliced into your femoral artery, allowing you to bleed out quickly. Your mind would have ceased consciousness, allowing an easy death.”

Tommy whimpers, his body vibrating as he jerks against the zip ties.

“But since you’ve decided we’re ‘bros’, I think we’ll spend some quality time.” A grin cracks my face. “I can show you just how much I like to play with things that slice.”

I remove my hand from his mouth, my stomach curdling in disgust at the way tears and snot streak down his face.

“It’s of a crocodile,” he spews. “Wrapped around a—a clock. It’s… it’s the mark you get when you join his ranks.”

Shock punches me in the gut, my insides cramping from the vision his words create.

“What else?” I hiss, pressing the knife in deeper.

“That’s it, man. I swear.”

My fingers twitch. “Starkey, bring the salt please.”

“They call him Croc!” Tommy yells. “Please, stop, I—”

My hand slips from the handle, but I regain the hold, fury racing through my blood, darkness blowing through me like a windstorm. I pull the blade from his skin and strike again, this time higher, dragging it through the flesh in sharp, jagged motions while he screams in agony.

“Liar,” I hiss. “How do you know this name?”

“I’m te-telling you the truth. I swear.” His face is white, blood pooling on the floor underneath us. “He goes by Croc. I-I’ve never met him, but the woman’s name is—”

Boom.





37





Wendy





My heart is heavy as I sit in the cold, damp office of a strip club, and wait on Hook to do whatever business he has to do.

This sucks.

Curly sits behind the office desk, scrolling on his phone, and Moira, for some reason, has taken it upon herself to keep us company. Her glare is hot as it rakes down my insides, and I smile wide at her, hoping that it’s tearing her apart to know that Hook has me here. She brought clothes, but I declined them, not able to help the spark of pleasure that simmered in my chest when she took in what I was wearing.

I’ve had the past couple of hours to come to terms with the fact that I’m emotionally screwed up. Allowing a man like Hook to touch me, and to revel in the way it feels when he does, seems unhealthy to say the least. He’s made it abundantly clear that he’s not an upstanding citizen. He does horrible things, most of which I hope I never see.

But despite what he’s done both to me, and I’m sure to others, I can’t change the fact that when I’m with him—when I’m truly with him—I discover more of who I am. Who I can be.