“We’ve got the doctor’s place of residence. You and I need to go over and have a heart-to-heart with the man,” Andrew’s deep voice fills my ear.

“When?”

“Now. I’m ten minutes out from your house.”

“It’s two in the fucking morning. When did we get this info?” I grumble as I look over at the clock on the nightstand.

“Simon just got it about an hour ago. He wants us to act now. Get the info and bring the doc in. And get this… Simon wants to be there at the questioning.”

“What the fuck?”

“He wants to be a part of it apparently.”

“Fuck me.”

“Yeah, I got your gear loadout from the compound. See you in eighteen minutes.” Andrew disconnects.

Well, fuck, at least I get to put this bastard’s head through the fucking wall. Motherfucker touched Beth in a way I can’t forgive. Simon, the fucking Spider, being there… Shit. It makes me wonder what the fuck I’m missing.

It’s going to be a bloody night.

Rolling out of bed, I push the blankets back around my naked woman. Beth looks too delicious to leave, but if Andrew’s right about the address, then we need to move while it’s still a good lead. We have the warehouse and we have the trucks tagged.

That doesn’t mean shit though, the trucks haven’t moved and we don’t know why.

I watch as Beth rolls to her side, the naked flesh of her back calling to me to press my chest back against her. The gentle swell of her hip barely shows, but it’s enough to make my palms itch.

I want to slide my hand down and pull her juicy ass hard against my cock. Mental images keep flooding my mind as I feel my cock start to stiffen.

Fuck me, living with her is going to drive me to insanity.

I can feel the need to press my body all over her, to keep my scent on her as I much as I can. I need to mark her as mine, somehow… maybe a fucking collar or tattoo… Though, I highly doubt she would go for it.

I quietly go through my drawers and pull out a pair of dark grey cargo pants and an almost black shirt.

All black isn’t natural in the nighttime, it creates voids in people’s vision, whereas dark colors of grey tend to blend in with just about anything.

I’ve had a lot of these nights over the years working for Lucifer. I’m used to the calls for sudden deadly violence.

Tonight, though, feels off. It feels like we’re heading for something more than the normal. I don’t have the hairs on the back of my neck rising, but that’s not always an indicator of something fucking up.

I kiss Beth on her shoulder quickly before leaving the room. I don’t need to wake her or the boy, so I wait until I’m downstairs to get dressed.

Outside, Andrew is already waiting for me in an old, but I have no doubt, decked out black Escalade. Lucifer doesn’t allow us to go cheap when it comes to our work vehicles. We have to keep them in shape in case of anything.

Jumping into the front, I look to the backseat to see my loadout bag ready and waiting. Goody. He’s brought all my favorite toys with him.

Pulling the tactical vest over my chest, I pull the velcro straps tightly around my waist. Patting the pockets, I make sure I have my brass knuckles securely strapped in.

“Where we headed?” I ask as Andrew guns the engine out of my subdivision.

“Over to Derry Township. He’s got one of those sprawling mansion type of spots.”

“Any intel on what we should be expecting?” I ask as I start checking the clips I’m going to stuff in my vest and tactical pants.

“Yeah, couple of satellite feeds, but not much. Simon was trying to get a flyover, but couldn’t get us up to date, unfortunately.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, bad timing, I guess. We got a couple of drive-bys going to happen soon. Should get a better idea of the security situation.”

“What do you think we’ll be running into there?”

“Light security, is my guess. Maybe a guard or two in the house. Doubt it will be much, they aren’t expecting trouble.”

“You know I don’t trust easy times,” I grumble as I lean my head back against the headrest.

“You’re just a grouchy morning person,” Andrew laughs.

“I’m going to take a nap. Let me know when we’re close,” I say as I recline my seat back.

Closing my eyes, I let my mind drift over Beth’s naked body. Each curve of her hips. The swell of her breasts capped by pale pink areolas with rock hard nipples. The way her shoulders looked when I pulled her dress down from the top. The barely-there collar bones. Each part of her is a study in beauty and sexuality.

I’m going to spend years and years pushing my thick cock deep into her pussy, and I don’t think it will be enough

A rough shove on my shoulder jars me from my dozing, and Andrew says, “Quit fucking snoring. We’re almost there.”

Rubbing my eyes, I want to bite Andrew’s fucking head off. I was right in the middle of a very good dream of Beth dancing around in a bikini for me.

It’s still the dead of night outside. The clock shows three-thirty. I watch as Andrew shuts off all the lights in the car using one of our specially designed kill switches. Even the quiet hum of the engine is barely audible over the rolling of tires.

“Who’s all going in?” I ask with sleep still in my voice.

“You and me, baby. Lucifer and Simon think we can keep this a quiet affair, so fix the fucking silencers.”

Pulling my HK MP5 to my chest, I start screwing in the silencer. “No, backup?”

“I got James on the rifle out past the subdivision. Heh, fucker is in a cellphone tower.”

With how fucking windy it is, it really does warm my heart to hear he’s fucking suffering with the rest of us.

Handing over a small plastic box, he says, “Ear comms.”

Taking out the little piece of plastic, I place it carefully in my ear and say, “Yeah, must have lost my other one.”

“Dude, we heard the fucking crunch of it.”

“Yeah, probably stepped on it or something.”

Shaking his head, he says, “You give Simon indigestion.”

“Good.”

Stopping a half of a mile away from the house, Andrew hands over an iPad with pictures of an aerial view of the house. Yeah, he was right, this guy’s got a fucking mansion. Probably has ten bedrooms in the house alone.

“Got a basement?”

“Keep looking at the pics, dickhead.”

Swiping my fingers across the screen, I look at models of the house from when it was up for sale. Pictures of the house with infrared body spots.

Swiping further, I don’t see anything that answers our questions. Only old, outdated pictures that show nothing but empty rooms. Getting to the end, I find an old blueprint of the house and see it does indeed have a basement.

Goodie. More places to fucking search through.

“This shit’s outdated as can be.”

“Yeah, I know. Simon sends his regrets, but he couldn’t find much else. Whether by design or simply not enough available information, I don’t know.”

“Fuckers. This is going to be interesting for just the two of us and a guy in a cellphone tower.”

“Yeah, Lucifer has been talking lately about our numbers having being spread too thin. Wants to start recruiting.”

“Shit, that should be fun for you guys.” I can just imagine the files Simon and Lucifer already have on whoever the fuck they are looking at.

“You’re included in the fun, asshole. Lucifer wants you to let him know if you still have contacts with those crazy IRAs, or the French Foreign Legion.”

“For the Irish Republican Army, no chance. They have shut all their doors to me. Too much turmoil going on internally and externally from the wars over in Ohio. Lots of splashback. The FFL? Shit, man, I ain’t talked to those fuckers in three years.”

“You’ve been out what, six years?”

“Yeah, next month.”

The French Foreign Legion. Years of sand and heat. Lots of fights for a country that wasn’t even my own. My adult life was pretty fucked up after Mexico. By the time I was finally able to pay my way out of a dirty Mexican prison, I had spent half my family’s inheritance, been stabbed twice, and shot once. Got too many stitches to count, and more than enough time behind bars to last me a lifetime.

Getting back to the states was almost just as bad. I couldn’t stop seeing all those stabbing knives, the dark eyes full of menace.

They haunted me no matter how much I drank.

So I set off to run from all the fucking demons that were chasing me in my head.

Women, lots of fucking booze, and a string of wrecked hotel rooms landed me in front of a French judge. Salty old hag saw me all fucked up in the head and still reeling from a long bender of booze. She asked me what in the world I was doing. Gave me an offer—join the Legion or get kicked out of the country.

Stupid me was too drunk to understand I wasn’t even in America.

I said the Legion.

Joined up and spent five glorious, shit-filled years with sand in places I can’t even think about without tears welling up in my eyes.

It wasn’t all bad, though. I learned enough shit to keep myself out of trouble and to stay alive. I also found a shit ton of contacts that weren’t the best of people. Lots of unsavory fellows.

I went into the FFL a spoiled brat, and came out almost a hardened criminal.

That’s where Lucifer picked me up. I was running guns in his city and hiring out protection services for anyone who had the money. Some things you can shake when you leave the military, but a taste for danger wasn’t one of them for me. Instead of getting rid of the competition, Lucifer brought me in for an interview.

I’d heard of him, and the deal he made me had enough zeros on the check to make sure I wanted in. Then he showed me how well he treated his guys and what we could do.

I haven’t looked back.

“I’ll put out some feelers. See if anyone over in the Legion are disreputable enough to work with us.”

“Make sure they aren’t Russians. Lucifer is pretty fucking hard up about the fuckers right now.”

“Dude, I ain’t saying the French are picky, but the Russians haven’t been welcome with them lately.”

Placing the tiny bud in my ear, I nod my head. “Check on comms one.”

“Comms command, good to go,” Simon’s voice fills my head.

Andrew puts the car back into drive and slowly eases us towards the house.

“Next time, could you try to stay awake, Johnathan?” Simon grouses at me through the earbud.

“How the hell did you know I was sleeping?”

“We heard your loud snoring through the damn ear mics.”

Snickering, I look to Andrew. “How long was I snoring?”

“Five fucking minutes. I don’t think you damn Legion boys were taught anything about staying ready for upcoming ops.”

“Eh, it was more of keeping in a good frame of mind.”

“Yeah.”

Pulling up in front of our stopping point, we both exit out of the SUV as quietly as we can. We’re trying to keep this a quiet op, hence we’re coming from the east of the house on a side street between two houses.

“James, what’s on the thermal scope?” Andrew murmurs.

“Six bodies, possible seventh underground.”

“Repeat that shit?”

Stopping next to Andrew, I nudge him with my elbow. “Basement, asshole. What’s in the fucking box type of shit.”

Shaking his head, he says, “Simon, we might need another team. I don’t think we have the spots we need to get in and out without causing an issue.”

“No time,” I quietly say to Andrew. “It’s three-forty.”

Growling, Andrew says, “Let’s see if we can get thermal on the outside guards, then we’ll see what we’ve got.”

“Why the fuck are we going into this so empty-handed, Simon?” I ask quietly.

Through the earbud, he hisses, “The doctor had been considered a minor player. Having four guards and a seventh unknown in the basement was not in the data files.”

“What the fuck? You’re the fucking Spider… how do you not have this information?” I want to shout but instead I murmur as quietly as I can.

“It’s being looked into, Johnathan. I promise you that. I also promise you we need this man.”

“Got it. There’s going to be a body count on this. You said four guards? Possible fifth? That leaves one or two unknowns. What have you got on that?”

“One in the basement I’ve got no information on. The one in the bedroom, I would say with nighty-nine percent accuracy, is his lover Jeffery Rogers.”

“Is he a player in our happy little fucking theater?”

“No, but we can’t use him as leverage either. Leave the body at the house. Gather as much intel as possible.”

“James, how loud is that cannon you have? Any chance of muzzling the volume?”

“Eh… not too bad. We don’t have many houses for the sounds to bounce off of. I’ve got a suppressor on, but I’d prefer not to though, if we don’t need it. It’s still going to make some sound.”

Nodding my head at Andrew, I point to our planned path. We move off at a slow run, no sounds coming from us except for our quiet footfalls.

Splitting off to the front of the house, I go hunting for the guy walking a slow pace around the front yard.

Murmuring quietly, I say, “Eyes in the sky would be helpful. Get a fucking drone next time.”

Removing my tactical knife from my hip harness, I slowly sneak up on the man and wrap my hand over his mouth, then I shove the blade straight into his chest.

Dead center on the heart.

Tipping us to the side, we fall with barely a sound. Pulse check gives me nothing. Pulling him to the row of hedges, I squat down beside the body.

“Target number three down,” Andrew comes through the mic.

“Target number one down,” I say as well.

“Stay still, John, you have a roving guard coming your way,” James says with urgency.

Holding my breath, I watch a guard pass by my location. He’s taking his time as he walks, his face buried in a fucking cellphone of all things.

Stupid shit.

Doesn’t he know that will kill any chance he had at seeing me in the dark?

Slowly stepping away from the dead body, I bring the knife back up.

A couple of duck waddle steps later, I stand quickly behind him. Holding my hand over his mouth, I quickly push the blade though his chest, just like the last stupid fuck.

“Target four down, pulling body towards house.”

“Target two on the side of house, lighting a cigarette.”

“On my way,” I murmur.

The fucker I’m carrying isn’t exactly light, so by the time I drop him near the front door, I’ve started panting. Fucking fat bastard.

“Target two down. Target’s location in house?”

“Two in the bedroom, from the heat signatures I’m getting on my thermal scope. Nothing on the third in basement,” James says through the comms, and I can hear the wind starting to kick up through the microphone.

Walking three-fourths of a circle around the house, I meet Andrew at the door to the library that has a porch attached to it.

Nodding my head to him, I notice he’s got a splash of blood on his chest and face.

“What the fuck?” I ask with a harsh whisper.

“Fuck off,” he growls right back.

Snickering, I murmur, “I thought you SEAL boys were professionals.”

Bending down to the lock, I pull a set of picks from my vest. It’s a quick jiggle and then I’m in like a flash.

“You and James need to go rob a vault or something. Not natural how well you do that.”

“Yeah, your mom said the same thing.”

“She’s dead, ya dumb fuck.”

“I broke her hip, what do ya expect?”

Moving through the house, I head to the basement door leading off from the kitchen.

“Hurry up, I’ll post myself outside of the master bedroom,” Andrew says.

Opening the door, my hackles instantly rise. Something’s off here and I can smell it from a mile away.

There’s a fucking steel, prison-type door at the bottom of the stairwell.

“Gonna need more time,” I murmur.

“What the fuck for?” Andrew asks back.

“Simon, you seeing this shit?”

“Affirmative. Andrew, get ready to take the main target. James, move in. I need you to make your way to basement with Johnathan.”

“Moving, but I’m ten out at a dead run.”

“Take your vehicle and move to the house. I’m calling in Harrold for clean up.”

“Tell him to bring his torch crew. Simon, this shit is smelling to high heaven.”

“Agreed.”

“I’m heading down the stairs. Going to work on the door.”

“Careful, Johnathan, check for traps,” Simon says quietly. I don’t think he knows what to expect any more than I do.

“Will do.”

Heading slowly down each stair, I look for anything out of place. I mean out of place besides a big fucking steel door that could be used in a prison.

Standing in front of the door, I look at the lock—it’s a big fucking deadbolt. Those are never an issue, anything can be picked or broken.

“James, how far out?”

“A minute.”

“Got a deadbolt.”

“Break it.”

“Gonna try.”

Pulling my picks up, I work for a bit, but nothing’s feeling right. “Got a drill?”

“Yeah, I’ll bring it in.”

Heading back up the stairs, I wait for him to come through the door. As soon as I see his face, I motion to the stairs. “Wait for us. Going to secure the targets first.”

Nodding his head, James silently moves past me and then down the stairs. I’ve never seen someone move like he does.

It’s part predator, part fucking ghost like shit.

Moving through the house, I notice how full of fancy shit it is. I mean, like even I know how expensive this shit is, and it’s beyond shit my rich ass parents ever had.

This doctor must be more than we know.

Going up the stairs, I finally reach Andrew and nod. Pointing to the door, we both move as one. Reaching out to the handle, I test it very gently.

No sense in getting our heads shot at if the doc or his partner have a gun.

Giving the nod of my head, I twist the knob slowly open and then quickly move through the doorway.

Andrew steps past me, raising his rifle as I raise my own.

Quickly moving to the sides of the bed, I pull a suddenly shrieking man’s head from the pillow.

Not the doctor.

Putting the barrel of the weapon to his head, I pull the trigger twice.

A loud scream of fear comes from Andrew’s man as a wall of blood splashes across his face. Cuffing the guy soundly across the back of the head, Andrew and I watch as his eyes roll to the back.

Good, he knocked the bitch out with the first shot.

“What the fuck is so important downstairs?” Andrew asks as he begins to zip tie the man’s hands together.

“Fucking steel door at the bottom of the steps, like a prison kind of steel door.”

“Shit.”

“Yep. You want to get the SUV for dipshit?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’ll drop him near you guys so you can keep an eye on him.”

“Gag his ass.”

“Always do.”

Walking down the stairs, I take a moment again to notice how wealthy this guy is. He’s in the fucking money. He’s got original paintings on the walls that look all kinds of abstract and completely expensive.

“James, you notice how expensive this guy’s taste is?”

“Yeah, the library alone has some shit I could move at premium cost. He’s not the usual doctor.”

Something about him helping the Russians sounds odd to me. “Andrew, he have any tats?”

“Let me check.”

I can hear a shuffle of noise through his mic and then he says, “Nope, nothing.”

“Simon, who the fuck is this guy?”

“Former doctor out of Siberia. Got his start in the prisons there as a medical doctor. Moved up the ladder with his willingness to do anything. He makes Stalin look like a school girl.”

Lovely. So the basement isn’t going to be fun.

Heading down the steps, James follows me as I open the steel door up.

There, in the middle of what looks like a makeshift surgical room, is a man strapped down to a table. Tubes of all sorts run out of his body. IVs, catheters up his junk, and a breathing tube fixed to a machine pumping his lungs full of air.

What the actual fuck?

Moving over to the man, I push my body cam to cover his face. “Who the fuck is that?”

“Damn. I can’t tell, but it looks like the doc is keeping him alive,” Simon says.

James moves around the room and starts picking up scraps of paper. “I’ll start on data collection. You mind if I take some of the artwork, Simon? Lots of shit upstairs I can sell.”

“Data comes first,” Simon says with annoyance.

“Will do.”

“Check for safes and hidden shit,” I call after James.

“Andrew, get down to the basement. We need to see if you can figure out what’s with this man and if he can be moved or not.”

“Will do. How far is Harrold out?”

“Thirty minutes.”

“Good enough.”

This is not my kind of bag. I don’t do the medical, keep-someone-alive shit. Backing up out of the room, I head back upstairs for the doctor’s office.

* * *

We’re about a mile out from the house when a large whooming sound bursts through the night. A fireball explodes up to the sky.

I guess that’s what usually happens when you make it a gas line explosion.

Harrold has one of the best cleanup crews around, if you ask me. They’re quick, clean, and completely silent on who they work for. Doesn’t matter if it’s Lucifer, or the Italians, it’s all the same to them.

The fact that he won’t work for the Russians, though, is a good way to stay in business with us.

The drive out to our own shutdown warehouse is fast thankfully. It’s been a long night, and seeing the sky starting to lighten on the horizon, is making me want my bed and Beth.

Fuck. I should have woken her up enough to at least let her know I was leaving for a bit.

The good doctor has enough intelligence to at least try to play at sleeping as we pull him from the back. He tries the same damn thing every other motherfucker does when he feels the ground beneath his feet, he tries to fight and run away.

Fighting with us never works, ever.

A sharp punch to his kidneys and the fight goes right out of him with a muffled screech.

The smell of dust and grime fill my nose as we drag the man through the empty sheet metal shop floor.

This place hasn’t had workers in it since the eighties, and it looks it.

Dust is thick on every surface except for the ones that have been used for ‘different’ purposes. Sometimes you have to take a hand off through a machine, it puts the fear of the devil himself into people.

Dragging the man back to the old office area, we slam him down into a steel chair that’s been bolted to the floor.

Securing him isn’t too hard after we hit him in his gut.

“Thank you for bringing the good doctor to me,” Simon says as he comes into the room.

Fuck me, he’s not wearing a suit. No tie, no freshly starched shirt for him. No, he’s wearing fucking medical scrubs. Just seeing him in those things is bad. When he dresses up like a doctor, shit’s about to get bloody.

I think I’m going to fucking vomit.

I’ve seen this only once before, and it was way back when I was just starting out in the family. Fuck and shit. This isn’t going to be pretty.

“No problem…” I say, as I start to back out of the office area.

Andrew gives me a dirty look and says, “We’re not leaving yet, playboy.”

Hanging my head, I grimace as I walk back over to the doctor.

Ripping the hood off the doctor’s face, I give him a sad smile. “Doc… I got bad news for ya.”

He doesn’t look at any of us with the due fear he needs to have in his soul right now so I continue. “You’re going to die in pain. Lots and lots of pain. No way around that. Wish I could tell you differently, trust me, I ain’t going to want to see this either.”

The man screams something unintelligible through the gag in his mouth, and though I can’t quite make it out, I’m pretty sure it has something to do with my mother.

“I’m going to take this gag out of your mouth now. You can scream and yell all you want, but it’s just going to get you hurt. So think real carefully about what you want to say, buddy.”

Hearing some rustling behind me, I look over to see Simon setting up a black leather bag on one of those old metal frame desks.

Yep, this is going to get messy.

Pulling the gag from the man’s mouth, he screams just as loud as can be expected. I really wish one of these assholes would change things up for once.

Just one fucking time.

My ears are tired of the screams by the second deep breath he takes. Grabbing him by the throat, I just squeeze my hand.

Squeezing till his stupid fucking face turns purple.

“Stop fucking screaming, asshole,” I growl.

“Thank you, Johnathan. I’ll take over from here,” Simon says smoothly as he walks up to the doctor.

My hands still on the fucker’s neck. I loosen my grip only enough for him to speak.

“What the fuck do you want?” the doctor yells.

“Now, now, Doctor Mirov, that’s no way to start off our morning together.” Simon sits down across from the man and folds his arms across his chest.

Taking a moment to gather up his courage, the doctor launches a massive ball of spit at Simon’s chest. The sound of it splatting there makes me want to laugh so badly, but even I know not to fuck Simon when he’s wearing scrubs.

Jumping up from his chair, Simon hisses, “You stupid little man, you’ll pay for that, I promise you.”

“Gentlemen,” Lucifer’s voice comes from behind us and I grit my teeth.

Yay, the gang’s all here.

Color me fucking purple with unending happiness.

I just want to go home and get in bed with my wife. Now, I’m going to need a very long cold shower to get the dirtiness off me.

Perching on the corner of a desk, Lucifer gives the doctor a feral grin. “You really shouldn’t anger Simon like that.”

Shaking my head, I can’t hold it in. The chuckle I have in me forces itself out of my chest and even Andrew has to look away.

Someone spitting on the germaphobe, Simon, is just too priceless. I only wish I had recorded it.

“Can someone tell me why I had a medical transport for a mystery man this early morning?” Lucifer asks, and as soon as the words leave his mouth, Mirov noticeably goes stiff.

“Found some guy hooked up to all kinds of life support. Whoever the fuck he is, Doctor Mirov here was making damn sure he stayed alive.”

“Is he still? Alive, that is?”

All of us noticed how Mirov reacted to the question of the man.

When Andrew shrugs, Mirov pales.

“Don’t know. I did my best, but…” Lifting his hand, Andrew tips it to one side then the other. “We’ll see.”

“You must…” Mirov starts before he thinks better of it.

“Now, now, Doctor Mirov, don’t be shy with us. I won’t be with you,” Simon coos at him.

And now I have the creepy crawlies going down my spine.

Leaning down to the man’s ear, I whisper, “Now’s the time to talk, asshole. Spill it all out for us so you can save yourself some pain.”

“Fuck you! I say nothing!” he spits again, this time at Lucifer.

“Wrong answer.” My fist connects with the side of his face with as much force as I can put behind it. His head whips to the side then slowly turns back to Simon.

“You need an introduction, I see,” Andrew says. He points to himself then me, “We’re not too well known, Johnathan and Andrew. The first one you spit on is Simon…”

Pointing to a bored looking Lucifer, he says, “And the big guy right there? You know his name very well. Every single person in this city knows his name—Lucifer.”

Wide eyes and a look of pending doom? Check.

Distinct smell of piss and a large wet spot on his pajama pants? Check.

“What is it you want?” Our favorite little shitstain now asks as he stares at the faces surrounding him.

“Tell us who was on the medical table in your basement.”

“I… I can’t.”

“Wrong. You can and will. Hold his hand still, Johnathan,” Simon says.

Nodding my head, I watch as Simon pulls a pair of pruning snips from his bag. A loud snip and a blood-curdling scream later, and the man has tears streaming down his cheeks.

I don’t think the doctor thought we would go through with it.

“There will be no warnings, Doctor Mirov. Each time you fail to answer a question, we will remove a part of your body.”

Maybe in my old days, I’d feel sympathy for the stupid bastard, but I just don’t have it in me now. He touched my girl. He scared the woman I call my own. He has to pay for that.

Nodding my head to Andrew, I motion for him to come hold the thrashing man for me.

Walking over to Lucifer, I take a seat next to him on the desk and say, “I get the death blow, Boss.”

Looking sideways at me, Lucifer says, “I do believe he spit on Simon. You know how touchy he is about that.”

I shrug my shoulders. “Yeah, well, he touched my wife. I get the kill for that. Rules is rules.”

“Funny, I don’t remember that being a rule…”

I give him the stink eye. “Lilith, Amy… Rules is rules. Simon can be the killer when someone touches his girl.”

Laughing, Lucifer says, “All too true. But do you seriously think he’ll ever find a wife?”

Shaking my head, I say, “No, but James sure is scared as fuck that I cursed him with the ‘you’re next’ comment.”

“You’re next?”

“Next to get wifed up.”

“Really? Whatever for?” Lucifer asks.

I shrug my shoulders. “Don’t know, but you know how them southern boys are about curses. He’s upset something fierce.”

“He’s Alexei’s father!” screams out Doctor Mirov.

“Well, well, well.” Lucifer stands up from our conversation and I move with him as we all circle around the crying man.

“Alexei holds his power because the man is hidden. If he was to die, there are splinters in the group who would break off.”

“Do tell doctor, do tell.” Simon smiles at the man.

* * *

The man before me resembles nothing like the one we brought into the warehouse.

He’s missing quite a few fingers and toes.

His tongue, just recently removed, rests on the floor.

Simon is a fucking sadistic motherfucker.

As soon as he discovered he wouldn’t be the one to deliver the death blow, he made damn sure he caused this man enough pain to soothe his bruised ego.

The doctor has one good eyeball left. His ears are missing, and his nose is half gone.

That’s not to say Simon only worked on his extremities and face.

No, his chest is a patchwork of missing skin, and even his intestines have been pulled slowly out of his body.

Fuck, this has been one long morning.

Walking up to the barely breathing man, I lean my head down and whisper in his ear, “This is for Beth.”

Moving to the front of him, I release the lower half of his body and slide it down until his pelvis is hanging off the chair.

Taking the scalpel from Simon’s hand, I quickly slice off the man’s tiny dick and balls.

Grabbing the bloody mess in my hands, I shove it into his mouth and watch as he slowly chokes to death.

When his body finally stops moving, I hand the scalpel back to Simon.

“Harrold will be here shortly,” Simon says. “He’ll remove the trash.”

Nodding my head, I follow Andrew out of the building. We watch as Simon and Lucifer leave the property and then wait for Harrold to show up.

“Long fucking night.”

“Yeah, but it’s been a productive one.”