I finally make my way down the stairs, after practically handing Piper my balls, on a fucking silver platter, no less. I need to keep my head clear where she’s concerned and I, most assuredly, can’t let thoughts of her invade my mind. I need to be one-hundred percent in the moment and mentally in the room while getting much-needed questions answered.

I can hear my brother behind the closed door. He’s not saying a word, but I know that he’s getting our tools out so we can scare the ever-loving piss out of the poor, misunderstood Senator. At least that’s what he was portraying and proclaiming upon his capture to my brothers. That poor, pitiful me act won’t work with me. I’ve seen the evidence of his destruction upon his family, and we’ll be doing the world a favor when we eviscerate him.

Because I promise, there will be nothing left of him when I finish.

I dramatically push open the door, rubbing my hands together in anticipation. “Well, is it my time to play with our new toy?” I evilly ask Silas.

“He’s all yours, brother. I’ve set out your required tools over there on the bench. Do you need me to stay? Needless to say, I could care less what you do to him. But, we need him in one piece when we dump the body. We need to use him as an example to those who think they can do what he’s done and get away with it.”

“Yeah, don’t wanna go too far, so you should stay to keep me in check.” That part’s for the senator’s benefit. I’m always in control.

Always.

I hold up the ball peen hammer while looking at the senator who is trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. I particularly like this instrument of torture, because it has a rounded ball, instead of the claw that a normal hammer does. Feels really good on certain pressure points, as the senator is about to find out, up close and personal. “Hmm, let’s see how he likes this,” I say, before swinging the hammer and hitting the pressure point at his solar plexus. He gives an oomph sound when the wind is knocked out of him, but otherwise, he does nothing.

“Guess I’m gonna have to work a little harder. Good thing I drank my protein shake this morning. I’m ready for anything. Tons of energy to work out.” The next hit I make contact with is the point between his neck, and shoulder. Then before he has a chance to recover from that blow, I hit him on both his right and left sides, where his kidneys are. Pissing blood is a good start for what he did to his wife. Nowhere good enough, but it’ll be enough to put a hurting on him for a while.

“You might wanna take the gag off, brother. He can’t say anything with it in,” Silas remarks.

I eye his mouth, and smirk, knowing that this is gonna hurt—a lot. I rip the duct tape off that was securing the gag before saying, “I’ve got all day, motherfucker, and no one can hear you scream in here. Do your worst, it’s music to my ears.”

“Do you know how many people are looking for me?” he asks. I see my work isn’t done because his tone is still way too condescending for my liking. Like the law? Doubt they’ll care if all they have to do to close his case, wipe their hands and call it a day at the office.

“Don’t know. Don’t really give a flying fuck, either,” I reply. Looking him over, I decide the inside of his knees make a good target, so I rear back and hit him on both legs, using my full strength.

The screech he makes is music to my ears and I laugh. “You’re sick!” he sputters out, his face reddening with each blow to his body. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

“Eventually, your insides strung up like Christmas lights, if I’m being honest,” I tell him. I put the hammer down, and grab the exacto knife. It’s sharper than a scalpel, and a few well-placed cuts will ensure he starts to hurt. And, hopefully, talk. I have a few other methods I can use if he wants to play hard ball.

He says nothing, as I cut the clothes from his nearly malnourished body. Looks like living underground didn’t do his body good, he needed some Wheaties or something. Fuck, I crack myself up sometimes. I guess he didn’t get his vegetables, and protein. His skin is pure white, almost albino-ish, he’s probably lacking in Vitamin D as well. Not like I give a fuck, but still, a man needs to take care of his health. I guess running from the law prohibits those types of things.

When I see what little, figuratively speaking, he’s packing down below, in what I’m assuming is a dick, I start laughing. I mean, how can you pleasure someone else when you’re smaller than my thumb? It must suck to be him, how the hell did he ever get a woman in the first place? “I feel sorry that your wife had that to deal with. Poor bitch.”

“She probably had one of those toys or something,” Silas states. We’re trying to egg him on, get him to say something. Anything. I guess we may need to ask questions first, if we want to find answers on where Destiny could be.

“Yeah, and I’m sure she got the biggest she could get.” I know Law’s woman was his wife’s sister and from what intel we’ve gathered, he was an asshole to her as well. Since I like Law, more than I like most people, I plan to exact revenge on the senator’s body for both women, and that defenseless little girl.

I slice both achilles heels, knowing from my own experience how bad it hurts. Then, I cut behind both knees, severing the main ligaments there. It’s not like he’s walking outta here, right? Shallow cuts across his back have him whimpering.

“I...I don’t know anything,” he stammers. Do I look like I was born yesterday? What imbecilic words he’s spewing.

“I call bullshit, brother. What say you?” Silas questions.

“Yep, getting deep in here,” I reply. “Tell us another one, asshole. Maybe make it the truth this time even.”

Slices down his front now have ribbons of blood dripping onto the concrete floor. This is gonna be a mess, that’s for fucking sure. Thank goodness Silas had the good sense to lay down plastic before I began working. Douchebag should talk and I’d end him. I won’t make it an easy or pretty death, but at least it would be over for him.

“Let me ask you a question,” I begin, “if they were hiding a woman, where would they stash her if she’s not underground?”

“I don’t know! How would I know that?” he replies.

“Asshole, you were down there for quite some time. I’d presume, actually, a long ass time, based on your physical condition. We know you heard shit. People brag, and so forth, when they think they’ve gotten one over on someone else. So talk,” I demand.

“All I know for sure, all I’ve really heard, is that they’re using some pathetic woman that no one will miss, to get in close and plant listening devices. They’ve got her sister somewhere as a means to control her.” I need to know where that somewhere is.

“Where is the sister being held?” I ask as I pull his head back, and stare into his eyes. I want him to know that I mean business.

“One of their safe houses,” he screams, as I slice underneath his arm, from his pit to his elbow. Yeah, that’s gotta hurt. There are some arteries I can hit, that will hurt like a bitch, but won’t be life threatening. Those are the ones I’m going to play with for awhile.

Silas tosses me the salt water, and I ruthlessly ‘rinse’ the senator down. His screams as the salt hits his cuts, are pleasurable for me to hear. Not so bad now are you motherfucker?

“And where might these safe houses be located?” I question fiercely. When he doesn’t immediately answer me, I realize he’s passed out. Damn pussy. Going to the table, I grab the smelling salts and wave them under his nose until he comes to with a start. “Let me ask again since you decided to take a cat-nap. Where the fuck are these safe houses located?”

He opens his mouth and nothing comes out except a silent scream. By now, he’s feeling every ounce of pain I’ve dealt him so far. “All over the city!” he screams.

“Whose name are they under?” If I can get that information at least, Jonas can play on his keyboard and work his magic. Location is crucial at this time. I don’t want her in their hands any longer than she already has been.

“It’s a corporation! The...the Cordello Conglomerate,” he stammers out. Tears are now running down his face and I think he’s realizing that his fate has been sealed. About time, motherfucker. No way I’d leave a piece of scum like this alive. Not after having those images from the pictures burned into my retinas.

“Let me ask you something,” Silas says, “why did you kill your wife and hurt your little girl?”

“She was going to expose me! I’d be ruined if she did that!”

“Too late, asshole. She had a back-up plan and trust me, so many folks, in different walks of life, and on both sides of the law are looking for you because of your dealings, the murder charge is almost chump change.”

“I’ve got money. Let me go and I’ll give you what you want,” he pleads. What a moron, money doesn't buy everything, plus, I have enough green in the bank and hidden around the house. Enough to secure my great-grandchildren’s future, and their children’s children.

“We don’t need your money. But no worries there, we know people who have managed to transfer your monies to organizations that will help kids and women who are abused.” Suck on that bag of lemons, dickhead.

Idea! “Let’s give him a lemon bath,” I say to Silas, who bends over, holding his gut as he laughs at my statement.

“No!” the senator screams out, “just end me, I’ve told you everything I know.” Oh, now he wants to die? He really is a fucking loser, and less of a man, than any I’ve tortured in the past. I would never put him out of his misery so easily. Who does he take me for?

“Pretty sure you’ve got more to say,” I tell him, texting Jonas to bring me a bag of lemons. Those’ll sting like a motherfucker. I can’t wait, I don’t know why I’ve never thought of using them before, something else I can add to my list of things to use while torturing information out of an interrogation.

I’ve never proclaimed to be a good man.

Those who’ve made others suffer, deserve the same fate.

I get bored sitting here, I’m not much of a TV watcher, so I go and explore the kitchen to see if I can find a snack. I see Jonas rummaging around in there, and nearly laugh out loud when I see him gathering a bunch of lemons, and bagging them up in what appears to be a grocery bag.

“Whatcha doing?” I ask. I see him jump and have to hold my laughter in, because he was so focused on what he was doing, he didn’t hear me walk into the kitchen.

“Getting something my brother asked for,” he replies.

“You are the brother who hides out in his bat cave? Do you have a secret identity?” I ask. Surely one of these brothers has a sense of humor.

“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to dispose of you. Us superheroes don’t share that shit without consequences.” I see the mischief dancing behind his eyes.

“Superhero, huh? What are your secret powers?” Yeah, I’m going along with it. I’m bored so sue me!

“I’m able to find a needle in a haystack, in minimum time. While I can’t leap tall buildings in a single bound, I’ve got the stamina to go all night. Not sure that jackass in blue tights can claim that one,” he replies, a smirk on his face.

He obviously doesn’t know me because I don’t embarrass easily. “So, you’re telling me you’ve got the ability at staying long and giving multiple orgasms? Good to know, in the event the batteries I just ordered online crap out quickly. I like to know I’ve got a fallback, and you may just do the trick.” There, put that in your pipe and smoke it, Mr. Mysterious!

His bark of laughter has me giggling as I put my hand out and say, “Piper. Piper Carsden. I gather you’re the one trying to find my sister using your superhero ways?”

“Jonas Nelson. Yep. Computer nerd extraordinaire here, but don’t let the desk job fool ya. I’m as dangerous and deadly as my brothers, I just choose to go about it a different way.”

“Well, I appreciate what you guys have already done for me,” I reply, looking through the cabinets. Maybe I can find something to whip up for dinner, who knows? “So, what exactly are those for?” I ask, pointing at the bag in his hand.

“Not sure exactly, I was just asked to bring them down. With that being said, I better get done before Atticus blows a gasket.”

“You mean, Roughrider?”

“Who?”

“Your brother.”

“Oh, that’s rich! I’m gonna tease him for days with that one. Thanks for the ammunition,” he smirks.

“Think it’d be okay if I made something for dinner?” I question. If he’s not gonna tell me what the lemons are for, I’m going to move on. I’m starving, even though it hasn’t been that long ago that I ate. Guess those days of enforced fasting have caught up with my stomach.

“A home-cooked meal? Fuck yeah,” he states. “We’re never gonna turn one of those down. Let me know if you need anything.” It must be every man for himself around here at mealtimes, because I know for a fact that Atticus is a mean cook. I’d let him cook for me seven days out of the week.

“Um, one problem with that—no phone or number,” I say.

He goes over to a phone on the wall and says, “See this here? Hit that button and it’ll ring in my office. Since I don’t know how long Atticus will be, I’m your best connection to the outside right now.”

Going for broke, I ask, “Heard anything about my sister yet?”

I see the look cross his face before he shakes his head no. “They’re trying, I promise we don’t give up and won’t stop until we find her.” He leaves the dead or alive off that statement, which I’m grateful for. I know we’re all thinking it, or it’s crossed our minds...at least once.

“I’m eternally in y’alls debt if you can find her for me. She’s all I have left in this world.” I turn from him so he doesn’t see the tears gathering in my eyes. I feel a hand on my shoulder that squeezes, and I know this is his unique way of showing me silent support. He, and his brother, are exactly the same. Whenever emotions are high, they flee the area. I hear, more than see his shadow, as he hauls ass out.

“Good talk,” I mumble to myself. I find the ingredients to make my famous chicken spaghetti. Although, the noodles are whole grain, so hopefully that meets Atticus’ special diet. Jeez, I look for bread to make some garlic toast to go along with the meal, and all I happen to find is multi-grain and wheat. These guys really are healthy eaters.

Well, beggars can’t afford to be choosey and all that shit, I suppose. Instead of dwelling, I find a skillet and cook the chicken. I start a pot of water to boil and since I don’t have my phone to put music on, I sing a song that I know by heart. I get lost in thought as I prepare the meal. I’m shaking my hips and singing a tune when I hear, “I could get used to this.” I scream from the intrusion, and turn around, with my hand over my heart. Silas is standing in the doorway, with his hands above his head holding onto the trim.

“You scared the ever-loving fuck outta me,” I state.

“Sorry about that. Smells good in here.” I can tell by his tone he’s most assuredly not sorry, and wonder how long he has been standing there, watching me.

“Well, I’m not sure how good it’ll be because you guys use whole grain stuff, but hopefully, it’ll do.”

“We have to watch our girlish figures,” he teases me, while rubbing his hands up and down his flat, but firm stomach. He’s hot, but nowhere as hot as my man. My man? The fuck? He’s not mine, not yet anyways. I don’t think he wants to be with me, with any woman for that matter, but I have decided I want him, and I don’t quit easily.

“Whatever,” I mutter. “It’ll be ready soon, do you know how long Atticus is gonna be?”

“Nope, but if he’s not done when it’s ready, I’m sure it’ll keep in the microwave.”

I try not to let my disappointment show, because I was hoping for a meal with Atticus, but I gather whatever he’s doing is important, hopefully, he’s one step closer to finding my sister for me. “Yeah, that’s the good thing about this recipe. It reheats well, and also the next day. It tastes even better because everything soaks in overnight.”

He nods and heads to the fridge. Jesus, these guys! I watch as he grabs a bottle of vinegar and my eyebrows raise. “What the hell are you doing with vinegar?” I question. First the lemons, now vinegar?

“Don’t ask, don’t tell. It’s better that way,” he replies, walking out the door.

I shake my head. You’re not in Kansas anymore, Piper. Once I finish dinner, I fix myself a plate and sit down to eat, a glass of milk is my only dinner companion. I had called and told Jonas it was ready, and he told me it was gonna be awhile before he could come and eat. So, I tucked my tail and decided to eat alone. It isn’t the first time, and I doubt it will be the last. I finish, rinse my dishes and head up to his bedroom. Since I slept there last night, I’m assuming that’s where I’ll be sleeping again.