Cowboy Gangster 02 - Gunnin' for Love (CMS) (MM) (11 page)

♦

Clint would have thrown open a window –if the room had one. At least one of the men had shit their pants, and they both reeked of piss. They would need baths before he progressed much further.

“You boys stink.”

The unidentified man raised his head, eyes watery with pain and dripping tears. “What do you expect?” Spittle sprayed from his lips. “They lock us in here for two fucking days –where were we supposed to
piss and shit?
”

The one who called himself Ryder sat in silence. At least one of them understood the rules. Clint’s foot snapped up without warning, the heel of his boot catching the unnamed prisoner in the throat. He pulled his kick just as it connected so as not to crush the man’s windpipe, but still achieving his purpose as the chair toppled over hard, taking the fucker down with it yet again. Air burst from his lungs as his head cracked the concrete a second time.

Cochise stepped over from the sidelines and righted the chair once more. The man’s head dropped forward, wheezing breaths laboring down his bruised throat.

“Learn the rules.” Clint stood before him. “Now what’s your name?”

“Tucker,” he rasped then coughed hard and sucked in another hindered breath.

“Tucker,” Clint spoke low, tasting the name. It tasted like shit. “I bet your friend here calls you Tuck. Rhymes with fuck. You like to fuck,
Tuck?
”

Tucker’s burst of ‘outspoken’ courage had been brief and there remained no shred of evidence it was ever present as the man trembled beneath Clint’s question. “No.”

“That’s not what I heard.” Clint touched the blade of his knife to Tucker’s chin –as he’d done with Ryder –and lifted his face, which bore the evidence of Cory’s handiwork. “Looks like you had a face-off with a brick wall.” He
tsked
. “That never ends well.” He turned the man’s head using the knife then dragged the tip beneath his jawline to a visible knick in his throat. “My boy do this to you?”

He nodded once, weakly, and continued to cough and get his breath.

Stepping back, Clint glanced between them. “So tell me…” he murmured with a deadly edge to his voice. “Which one of you meant to fuck the kid first?” He paced slowly back and forth, his boots clacking dully against the hard floor. “Who scuffed up his lovely face?”

Cochise watched silently from the dim shadows, his eyes following Clint as he began to circle the two men.

Clint paused behind Ryder and stared at the back of the man’s head. This was the motherfucker who’d had Axel pinned against the wall, who had raked his face on the bricks…had his
fucking hands
all over him. Clint forced control and breathed evenly, his hard stare boring into Ryder. “I bet it was
you.
” He nailed his elbow between the man’s shoulder blades, knocking him forward with a sharp gasp. The man’s face contorted in pain, choking on a wrenching cry. Clint breathed deep and composed himself. “You’re clearly the
alpha
male of this little deuce relationship. No fucking way you’re going to take sloppy seconds.”

His fists flexed at his sides, clenching and relaxing in a slow, steady rhythm. Behind his eyes, he saw the depth of fear in Axel’s eyes when he’d asked him about the scuff on his face…the tremors that had grabbed his body…the tears…the desperation as he’d clung to Clint and relayed what had happened. The sheer
horror
of what had almost been his fate.

Clint realized his pulse was racing and his breath had begun to quicken, surging through his nostrils –and again, he calmed himself. If he lost control, this would be over much too soon. And these motherfuckers weren’t escaping this life that quick and easy.

“I’m sick of the stink.” Clint moved around in front of the captives and glanced at Cochise. “These boys need a bath.” The Egyptian nodded silently and disappeared into a shadowed corner of the room. Clint squatted before Ryder. Tears of pain streaked his face and his face pinched with the smallest shift of his shoulders. Clint touched the blade to the snap of the man’s pants then slowly traced the sharp tip down over the rippled ridges of his fly, applying just enough pressure for his cock to feel the presence. The man swallowed hard and stared at him, eyes growing wider. “Now, I’m going to untie you…” He dragged the blade lower and pressed the tip against the man’s balls. “…And if you give me any problems, try to escape…” He pushed a little harder, the tip of the blade popping through the material. Ryder gasped quick and short, instinctively recoiling, attempting to withdraw from the knife. “…I’m gonna cut your fucking balls off and feed them to you. I’m sure you’re plenty hungry by now.” Clint raised one eyebrow. “So… are we going to have a problem?”

Ryder’s throat worked with panic and he shook his head.

“Good.” He looked at Tucker who was watching him, horrified. Clint stood up and stepped over to the man. “And you…” he flicked the knife at him. “…Are you and I going to have problems?”

“No…no…” Tucker choked and shook his head emphatically.

“Good to know.” Clint sank to his heels used the knife to cut loose the man’s wrists and ankles and peeled away the thin cord now embedded in his flesh. Tucker gasped, his face contorting. “Well, that looks like it smarts a bit.”

Clint stood up and grabbed the man under the right arm and hoisted him to his feet. Tucker’s legs buckled and he landed on the floor, knees cracking on concrete.

“Come on, fucker,” Clint muttered and clutched the back of Tucker’s neck, hauling him up on his feet again. “Get your fucking feet under you. I’m not gonna pack your stinking carcass. So if you can’t walk on your own, I’ll have to kick you over to the bathing area.”

Managing to remain upright, Tucker stumbled forward when Clint shoved him, nearly bit it again but caught himself. “What’re…what’re you gonna do?”

“Speaking out of term again?” Clint nailed him in the back of the leg with his heel, dropping him. Tucker hit face first into the cement, smashing his nose and mouth. “You’re a hard learner. You didn’t do well in school, did you?” He dragged him to his feet again. “And don’t worry…I’m just going to give you a nice soothing bath, wash away this nasty stink.”

He kept his mind focused on the task at hand and, for the moment, off of Axel. To contemplate just how close these fuckers came to taking Axel away from him would unhinge his mind and, God knows, he would leave them in a mess –but again, it would be over too soon. He intended for these motherfuckers to suffer for every single terrified beat of Axel’s heart the night they jumped him.

♦

Ryder could barely breathe. The pain between his shoulder blades swelled like a balloon, pushing forward into his chest. It hurt just turning his head, but he gritted his teeth and tried to see what the cowboy was doing to Tucker. The single dim bulb hanging from the ceiling hardly reached to the edges of the room, yet Ryder could see enough. The cowboy fastened Tucker’s hands above his head against the far wall. Ryder shifted his stare and searched the shadows for the rag head.
Bath?
What the fuck did they mean-

The Arab guy emerged with a small contraption on wheels to which was attached a short hose and long, narrow nozzle. He looked at Tucker. “I’m not touching his fucking nasty clothes,” he muttered to the cowboy. “You want to strip him, be my guest.”

“I don’t handle filth,” the cowboy said. “Just blast them off him.”

Ryder’s eyes widened –they were going to use a
pressure washer
on him?
Not just him.
He shuddered and his bowels churned as his intestines cramped up.

Tucker whimpered and tried to look over his shoulder.

Walking closer to Tucker, the cowboy told him, “Just relax now. You’ll be smelling fresh in no time.”

Fuck!
With the proper pressure and appropriate tip attached, a pressure washer could take the fucking paint off a car.
And flesh off the bone.

The Arab handed the nozzle to the cowboy, who adjusted the tip. “Must warn you,” he murmured to Tucker as he nodded at the rag head to turn on the machine. “This might
sting
a bit.”

Holy fuck
. Ryder looked away as horror swept over him, his heart crashing against his chest wall.

♦

Clint watched Tucker’s chest heave and hitch with panicked breaths. He moved closer and dragged the nozzle down his spine. “There’s very few things in this world I hold sacred,” he spoke low. “But that kid…is one of them. And you terrorized him. How does it feel?” He shoved the nozzle harder against his back, dragging it roughly over the man’s vertebrae until it was digging into his lower back. “To be terrorized? To know that your worst nightmare is about to come true…and there’s nothing you can do to stop it?”

Shudders rushed through Tucker and sobs caught in his throat.

Switching the nozzle to his left hand, Clint clenched his right fist. “
Answer
me.” He drove his fist into the man’s back, bowing his body and wrenching a strangled wail from him. “How does it
fucking feel?
”

“Bad…” Tucker gasped, choking on a cry. “It-it feels…bad.”

“Tell me,” Clint spoke tight, jaw clenched. “Did it get you cock-hard to scare the kid? Waving your little pig sticker in his face –that make you feel tough?” He nailed him in the kidney and Tucker’s legs gave out, dangling him from his wrists. “
Did it?
” Clint grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked his head back. “Fucking answer me or I will take off your flesh one strip at a time.”

Tucker gagged as Clint held his head back at an unnatural angle. “Y-yes…”

Shoving his head forward, Clint released him as the machine hummed roughly. He stepped back a few feet. “Well, let’s see how tough you really are.” He nodded at Cochise who adjusted the pressure, then squeezed the lever –blasting the brick wall in front of Tucker. Tiny fragments busted free and shot back, riddling Tucker’s face. He jerked and cried out –then screamed when Clint shifted the spray and hit him in the hip. The sheer force of the water ripped through his clothes and his flesh.

Clint released the lever and Cochise lowered the pressure. The tip was changed and Clint took a few steps further back. Tucker twisted and contorted, gagging on his cries as blood drained down his leg from his shredded hip.

“I thought you were tough,” Clint muttered. “Now, let’s get you clean so we can have some real fun.” He raised the nozzle and his face hardened to granite as he again felt Axel’s arms around him, holding on for dear life, consumed with the horror of his assault. Clint squeezed the lever and Tucker screamed again as his shirt began to come apart beneath the pressure of the spray, the flesh of his back tearing.

I can be your hero.

Clint’s eyes burned with vengeance as Tucker’s screams echoed dully off the brick walls and bloody water splattered the concrete floor.

I can be your avenging cowboy.

♦

Ryder kept his head turned away and ducked to his chest, but he couldn’t block out Tucker’s screams, the hiss of the water and loud humming of the machine. When everything suddenly went silent –but for Tucker’s gasping, gagging cries –it felt like a pressure had settled over the room, pushing down, invading Ryder’s head and threatening to blow out his eardrums.

Then he heard the dull, solid echo of boot heels connecting with the concrete –and a hard, wet thud of flesh smacking the wet floor as the cowboy released Tucker and let his body drop. Shuddered, broken breaths burst from Tucker and Ryder was afraid to look at him…witness the result of his
bath
.

Ryder trembled and cringed when the Cowboy walked his way. Tension squeezed every muscle in Ryder’s body as the man stopped behind him. He waited for another elbow to his back, but instead, his hands were suddenly cut loose. The cowboy moved around in front of him, squatted and used the knife to free Ryder’s ankles. Tears burned thick as the thin cords were peeled out of the raw flesh.

He stared at the man’s head as Tucker’s whimpering cries sifted out into the room.
All this over some fucking kid?
He and Tucker weren’t getting out of there alive. Their deaths would be ugly.

Nothing would save them now –and Ryder would be damned if he was going to go out slobbering and begging for mercy from these motherfuckers. His best bet was to piss them off enough that they might lose control and kill him quicker.

“It felt good,” Ryder rasped. “Shoved up against him…feeling him tremble and shake…made me so fucking hard.”

The cowboy slowly raised his head.

“My only regret…” Ryder’s face twisted. “…Is that I didn’t get to
fuck
him.”

Hunkered to his heels before the chair, the cowboy stared at him, his expression indecipherable –until the slow smile stole across his lips. There was something ominous in the way it failed to reach his jade green eyes.

The cowboy stood up. “Your turn to bathe,” he murmured in his heavy drawl. “And since you broke the no speaking rule…” He gripped a fistful of Ryder’s shirt and lifted him to his feet. “…I don’t think I’ll be as gentle with you as I was with Tuck.”