“Tell me something.” Adrian stood before Tazz, unfazed by his brutalized countenance. “What were you going to do with Jules if you had gotten a hold of his real father?” He yanked off the gag and tossed it aside. “Make him watch you beat the man to death?”

Tazz’s narcissistic personality refused to allow him to back down despite the dire circumstances. “It would’ve taught the little shit what happens to bastards who fuck another man’s woman.”

“Another man’s woman.” Adrian stared at him. “She wasn’t that piece of shit’s woman by choice.” He glanced at Blade who snarled around his gag, glaring viciously at Adrian. “And she wasn’t his woman at all when she first met Shay.”

Eyes narrowing, Tazz muttered, “She was promised to Blade before she ran away. That made her his, whether or not they had fucked yet. She was unfaithful and she paid the price.”

Adrian had never understood his brother; his lack of feeling. The man possessed no empathy—or sympathy. Never had. What hell would he have put Jules through had they managed to keep him? Adrian didn’t want to think about that. “She was your sister,” he whispered tightly. “How could you hurt her like that? How could you beat her?”

Clint approached Blade when the man began struggling and trying to speak. He removed the gag. “Got something to say, motherfucker?” Blade started to spit in his face again and Clint backhanded him hard, projecting the bloody spittle out the side of his mouth.

Blade shook his head to get his bearings. His chest heaved and he shot Adrian a hateful look. “That ain’t all we did to her.” An ugly grin spread across his bruised face.

“Shut the fuck up,” Tazz hissed.

Adrian exchanged a look with the cowboy. Clint cocked his head, eyes narrowing. “No,” he murmured. “By all means, share with the class. What else did you do to her?” He cast a glance at the Egyptian. “Take notes.”

Cochise stood back silently and nodded.

“Keep your fucking mouth shut!” Tazz slammed at Blade. “Don’t be fucking stupid!”

Clint smiled dryly. “Afraid it’s too late for that.” He stepped closer, his face just inches from Blade. “You terrorized my little boy. Burned the boots I gave him. Threatened to kill his pup.” He shook his head. “You passed stupid long ago.” He withdrew his knife and tapped the tip of the blade on the man’s cheek. “So, come on, tell us the whole story.”

Nausea welled inside Adrian as he guessed what the whole story was. Shannon wouldn’t have told him that part—for his sake. For Jules’ sake.

Blade ignored Tazz’s order and the blatant reasoning behind it. “We raped her,” he sneered in Clint’s face. “A lot. Both of us…once at the same time—in the pussy and ass.”

Adrian felt sick and dizzy. Oh Shannon…I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.

Turning his head slowly, Clint looked at the three men standing back, waiting. “You boys get that?”

The men nodded. Angelo walked over to the square wooden table on which was strewn an array of toys. He gathered up five pairs of standard brass knuckles and began handing them out to the others. When he came to Clint, he gave the cowboy the last pair and looked at Blade. “If my baby boy develops nightmares because of your shit, I will come to hell, drag your ass back here…” He slipped on his pair of brass knuckles. “…and kill you all over again.”

Blade snorted. “You think I’m scared of you, old man?”

A short huff escaped Clint and he stepped back. “Go to it, old man.”

Adrian shivered at the deadly look that crept across Angelo’s face seconds before he busted at least three of Blade’s ribs with a single punch. The man let out a wrenching cry and gasped for air as his legs gave out and dropped his full weight on his arms, jarring his entire chest cavity.

Angelo moved closer to Adrian, cupped his head, and kissed him deeply. “That one was for Jules.”

“Sick fucks,” Tazz muttered with a wheezy rasp when Angelo administered another kiss.

The men stared at him. Rather than acknowledging his remark, Angelo said, “Callum told us what you said you’d do if you got your hands on Jules’ father.” His eyes darkened. “Cut off his cock and keep it for a souvenir?”

Tazz just looked at him, confirmation in his eyes.

“Shay was my boy.”

“Then be glad he was dead before I got a hold of him.”

Adrian stepped back out of the way.

A storm of emotions rolled through Angelo’s eyes. “Be glad he’s dead.” He slowly circled the man while the others watched in silence. “Be glad he’s dead?” Angelo struck with sudden fury, embedding the brass knuckles in Tazz’s kidneys then grabbed a fistful of hair and wrenched the man’s head back. “When you’re dead,” he murmured against his ear as Tazz gasped, body jerking. “Then I’ll be glad.” He released his hair and nailed him in the lower back, igniting a convulsing spasm.

“Save some for us.” Anthony pressed close behind Adrian and kissed his shoulder. He whispered, “You ready to do this?”

In his mind, Adrian replayed the moment he walked into the motel room and found Jules lying next to his dead mother…thinking she was simply asleep. The boy’s tears because his mom hadn’t kissed him goodbye…wanting to go back so she could give him his kiss. Adrian’s vision blurred. “Yes.”

 

♦

 

The five men formed a circle around Tazz and Blade. “Don’t beat them entirely to death,” Clint said. “I have a special final sendoff that I think they can relate to and appreciate.” He hadn’t shared with the others the finale details, but they didn’t question him and merely nodded. He addressed Cochise. “We’ll take this one,” he said and indicated Blade. “He called us sissies. Wouldn’t be good for business if our badass reputations were ruined by a rumor.”

The Egyptian chuffed. “He called you a sissy,” he corrected with a faint twitch of his lips.

Clint looked at him dryly. “Nevertheless,” he muttered—then turned suddenly and plowed his fist into Blade’s gut. His lungs emptied with an audible whoosh of air erupting up his throat.

“You’re all a bunch of pussies,” Tazz wheezed, still suffering from Angelo’s previous hits. “You tie us up and beat the shit out of us. Real badasses. Too scared to give us a fighting chance?”

Adrian rammed his brass knuckles against Tazz’s chest, grinding into bone. “Like you gave Shannon a fighting chance? What you did to her—was that fair?” He shook his head. “He who lives by the sword…dies by the sword. Reap what you sow. Eye for an eye. Take your pick, motherfucker, because it all comes down to the same thing; you’re gonna suffer as she suffered. What you did to her…is going to be done to you.”

Looking at Blade, who was still trying to catch his breath, Clint smiled darkly. “Still glad you shared the whole story with us? You raped the girl…”

“Fuck…you…” Blade rasped.

“Uh-uh.” Clint stepped closer and dragged the tip of the knife across the man’s cock. “Fuck you.”

Blade’s face twitched. The veiled fear that crept into his eyes ignited Clint’s adrenaline. The fear in his victims had always been his drug, more so than the pain he inflicted.

Strolling around behind him, Clint pushed up close, his lips touching the back of Blade’s neck as he whispered, “But that’s for later. I never fuck without a little foreplay first.” His fist dropped low and smashed into the back of his thigh, fracturing the femur bone.

“Fuuck!” The scream exploded from Blade and his leg instantly buckled. His face twisted in pain and rage, spit wetting his lips and dribbling down his chin. “You fuck!”

Clint straightened with a low chuckle. “Liked that, did you?” He slid his hand around Blade’s throat from behind and squeezed firmly, lips on his ear. “How about this?” He drew back and nodded at Cochise.

The Egyptian went for the man’s other leg, busting his kneecap beneath the brass knuckles.

“Guuuhh!!” Blade choked on his screams, jaw clenching and distorting his wails. “Fucker!”

The other three men had yet to lay into Tazz as they watched Clint and Cochise.

“You better fucking kill me.” Tazz glared at Adrian, chest heaving. “Because if I get out of this alive, I swear to God, I’ll fucking-” His words exploded into a hollow gasp as Anthony rammed his fist up under his ribs.

“No worries,” Anthony growled close to his face. “You won’t be getting out of this alive.”

The cords in Tazz’s neck strained and popped as he sucked hard for his breath, his face flushing red.

“These are my new boyfriends,” Adrian told him. “Still think all us queers are weak and sissified?” He gut-punched him hard, extinguishing what breath Tazz had regained.

“You fucking little…” Tazz gasped, eyes bleary. “I should’ve killed you a long time ago.”

“Yeah, you should have.” Adrian nailed him again, the brass knuckles clipping his hip bone.

“Fuck!”

The decimation of Clint’s brother Vincent was the last time he’d witnessed the true gangsters within Anthony and Angelo emerge. He watched it again now as Angelo came forward. “Let’s stop fucking around.” Tazz’s head snapped viciously to the side, Angelo’s fist—squeezed fiercely around the hard knuckles—plowing into his jaw. Bloody spit sprayed off his lips and, for a moment, Clint was sure he’d been knocked unconscious as his head flopped against his upstretched arm, drool trickling from the corner of his mouth. Angelo backhanded the man, bringing him around. “Wake up, motherfucker, you don’t get to sleep through this.”

As a single entity, the five men unleashed on their victims. An observer might interpret the punches as uncalculated and haphazard, just eager to connect to with flesh and bone. They would be wrong. Strikes to the head were minimal to avoid knockout. Hits to the spine were carefully evaded to prevent paralysis; the two men needed feeling in all their extremities to truly appreciate the finale.

Busted bones—except the spine—were acceptable.

The brass knuckles tore holes in the guilty flesh, exposing bone, smearing the bodies with blood.

Cochise backed off abruptly and walked to the wooden table, his fists slick with blood. He grabbed up an item and returned, approaching Angelo. “Take this.” He handed him the Louisville slugger. “Shay’s baseball bat. It was his favorite toy. These fuckers beat, raped, and killed the mother of his child. He would want you to use it.” The Egyptian looked at Tazz, eyes dead. “Be glad Shay is dead?” he murmured with a deadly tone. “Shay would have had you strung up and gutted like a fucking pig before you ever saw him coming.”

His head lolling to the side, Tazz stared at him, eyes wet.

“Give me room.” Angelo motioned the others back and gripped the bat, cocking it up over his right shoulder. His lips peeled back in a small snarl and he crashed the bat against Tazz’s hip, crushing bone. Tazz wailed and jerked with convulsions, his eyes rolling back in his head. Angelo turned and tossed the bat to Adrian. “Take a swing, baby.”

Clutching the Louisville slugger, Adrian walked around Tazz. “When we were kids,” he said, “you used to make fun of me when we played ball, said I was too queer to swing a bat.” He choked up on the handle. “Let’s see if I’ve learned anything since our backyard ball games.”

A gargled cry erupted from Tazz when his tailbone shattered beneath the blow of the bat. His head dropped back, hanging loosely as convulsive hitches jerked through his chest. Adrian handed the bat to Anthony and the older man blew out Tazz’s knees then chucked the bat to Clint.

Twisting the baseball bat in his hands, Clint looked into Blade’s eyes which were now bloodshot and glossy wet. “Because of you, our little boy lost his mom.” He shoved the thick tip of the bat under Blade’s chin, pushing against his throat. “Some nights, he still cries himself to sleep because he misses her.” He pushed a little harder until Blade started to gag, his Adam’s apple bobbing erratically. “Because of you.” He jerked the bat back and swung with all his strength, striking him in the side. His body swung on the chains and a forceful grunt burst out of the man as his face twisted in excruciating pain.

Blade tried to get his breath when Clint hit him again, a fraction higher, smashing into his already bruised and broken ribs. Very little sound came out of the man other than gurgling in his throat as his eyes rolled back to the whites and foamy saliva bubbled into his mouth.

Clint stepped back, breath quick, and offered the bat to Cochise. The Egyptian shook his head. “If I hit him,” he muttered. “He’ll be dead. And I want him alive and aware when we end this.”

The other three men nodded in agreement. “Let’s be done with it,” Anthony said.

Clint rested the bat on his shoulder, his cool jade eyes drifting between their guests. “I guess foreplay is over, boys,” he murmured. “Time to fuck.”