Quinn II (Undaunted Men #2) (16 page)

Heavy thudding of boots interrupts my thoughts as I listen to them echo off a set of stairs and into the basement hallway. I stiffen and throw myself into high alert. My heart races when I hear the rattling of keys, and then one of those keys engages into the locked door. The handle on the door turns, and then it swings open wide. Vince walks into the room wearing an arrogant smirk, striding in with self-confidence, knowing he has the upper hand. I would love nothing more than to personally punch the smug look off his face, and I have a feeling I will get to do just that.

"Well, well, well, look who's awake," Vince says haughtily.
 

I narrow my eyes on him, saying nothing as I assess each and every one of his moves, taking the situation for what it is - dangerous.

Vince comes within five feet of me and stops. He spreads his legs apart in a dominant stance with his hands on his hips, then tilts his head to the side as he silently regards me. "I bet you have a bitch of a headache right now, don't you?"

“I’ve had worse,” I grit out between clenched teeth.

“Well, let’s see if I can top your worst.” I want to tense at his words, but I know better. I keep my limbs loose, limber, and on the ready.

He rolls his fingers into a tight fist, the knuckles on his right hand blanching, and then he changes his stance to deliver a blow to my jaw. With a loud crack, my head slams back against the wall. A small grunt escapes me as I let him fuel my anger.

“You were told she was pregnant,” he growls, outraged, “and I know you fucked her too many times to count.” I angle my head and spit the blood from my mouth before I turn back to glare at Vince.

“She said she wasn’t pregnant.”
 

He narrows his eyes on mine as I size him up. He’s not as buff as me, but he’s strong, and I can tell he’s done his fair share of fighting. In my eyes, however, he’s most definitely a coward, one who hides behind a gun.
 

“She wasn’t yours to fuck!” he yells, his chest heaving in anger, and then he spits on me. I close my eyes and take in a deep breath. I need to stay cool-headed and wait for the perfect moment to change the dynamics of power. It doesn’t matter what I say to Vince; the bottom line is I fucked his girl, and even if I hadn’t, he wouldn’t believe me. I know his kind. He’s looking for a fight before the real fight actually begins.

He nods his head as if he’s come to terms with something. “That's okay, though. I fucked you out of her system last night. In fact, she begged me to do just that.”
 

My blood runs like hot lava through my veins, his declaration making me want to snap his neck. “You fucking raped her,” I grit out.

He arches a brow giving me a silent, wild-eyed look that should send shivers down my spine, but I'm not phased. “No,” he shakes his head while wearing a knowing smirk, “she enjoyed every inch of my dick. She even screamed my name when she climaxed all over my cock, but the best part? She couldn't get enough of me. She was an animal, and we went at it all night long.”

I close my eyes, my chest heaving with rage, because I know it has to be a lie. I tell myself he's just trying to goad me. “How does that make you feel, Quinn?” Vince taunts. “To know you've been used and cast aside so callously.”

“You're lying.”

Vince crosses his arms, looking smug. “I thought you'd say that. I took extra measures to bring you the truth, and I have to say that this turn of events, you falling for Lexi, makes it even sweeter when I watch your reaction. I can't wait to torment you with having to watch me fuck her wet and willing pussy just before I drain the last breath from your lifeless body.”

Any other prisoner would be freaking out and begging for mercy right about now, but I’m not any other captive. I know how to withstand torture, and I know how to fight; I was trained for it.

I'm determined to not let Vince provoke me, so I don't play into his hands. Instead, I change the subject. “Just get to the point, Vince. Why am I really here?”

“All right,” he shrugs his shoulders, indifferent as to where we will begin with today's torture, and steps forward. “Do the words
Operation Chevron
mean anything to you?”
 

Nonplussed, I don’t hesitate to answer back, “Yes, as a matter of fact, it does.” Last year, I was involved in an undercover sting operation. Moretti’s territory was being encroached upon by a new up-and-coming mafia group. Tony and his entourage were decent enough, I actually like the man, but this new mafia group was a serious threat. They were more than bad news; they were ruthless killers, and even the FBI was having a hard time trying to collapse the new organization. So Moretti cooperated with the FBI as we all collaborated together to take out the new group.
 

“And how about the name Bennett? Hmm? Does that name ring any bells?”

I truly think about the name, but can’t say it sounds familiar. “No,” I simply state.

“No?” Vince looks surprised.
 

I roll my eyes, looking half bored. “Get to the fucking point.”

“All right then, I will. You killed a family member of mine, Quinn, and I plan on paying you back for it.”

Acting unaffected by his threats, I comment, “I guess whoever this Bennett guy was, he should’ve been walking on the right side of the law. When someone plays with fire, he’s bound to get burned, you know? If you ask me, I’m tickled fucking pink about it. I saved the tax payers a shit load of money.”

At this point, Vince goes nuts, full of blind rage, playing right into my hands. He tries to kick me in the face with his boot, but I’m too quick on the reflexes. With my bound wrists, I intercept his foot in my hands and twist his leg over. He has no choice but to turn his body with his leg, going off balance, and I’m able to flip him onto the floor. Before he has a chance to struggle free, I’m on top of him, slipping my hands over his head and putting him in a chokehold.
 

He fights to break free, but he can’t. He struggles and gasps for air, but I'm unrelenting. “Let’s get something straight here, motherfucker,” I growl. “I like to keep track of how many cocksuckers like you I take down. You know why?” Of course I don’t care if he answers or not. “My buddies and I like to keep score and place bets on how many kills we can make in a sting op, so I make it a point to know their names, because that’s how I roll. I’m sick like that.”

Vince planned on interrogating me, wanting to have a friendly chat about the extent of my involvement with Operation Chevron. I’m as sure about that as the sky is blue. He had planned to torture me slowly, and then kill me off, because I had killed someone close to him.

 
“Do you always get such shit intel?” I sneer, tightening my grip around his neck. He kicks, struggling for a breath as he tries to pry my arms off his neck, but his attempts are futile. “I never heard of a Bennett before, so what the fuck is this really about?”

He makes a garbling noise in the back of his throat, so I loosen my grip to let him talk. He sucks gulps of oxygen into his lungs, wheezing between his words. “A year ago,” he gasps, “you were part of a sting operation.”

“I’m part of a lot of sting operations, so get to the point.”
 

“Operation Chevron,” he coughs, “you killed one of my men - One of my own flesh and blood – My brother.”

“Well, I’m fairly certain when a man points his gun at me then cocks it, he qualifies himself as an enemy.” I tighten my grip around his neck again for emphasis. “Again, what’s your point?” He gasps for a breath. “I don’t shoot to kill like some people do. I shoot to protect myself and my men, and nine times out of ten, I’m under orders of how I’m allowed to shoot. It sucks sometimes because I want nothing more than to obliterate the motherfuckers as I was trained to do. Lucky for some assholes, the government has turned into a bunch of pussies, but since we’re not here on politics I have free reign to take you out.”

“Then your hesitation to kill me will be your downfall,” he garbles out.
 

His words piss me off.
   

“Is that right, motherfucker?” I hiss in his ear. “If one of us is going to die today, it’s not going to be me.” I strangle the hell out of him, having no mercy this time. His eyes bulge out of his head. He’s panicking now, clawing at my arms in a futile attempt to get a breath into his lungs, but I’m seeing red on so many levels, I don't know which end is up.

My chest heaves as I strain to give this sick fuck every bit of strength I have. I’d snap his neck if my hands weren't zip-tied together. I have no problem when it comes to taking out the enemy, I don't even blink twice.

I watch as his lips start turning a light shade of blue, and then his body begins to go slack. In that moment, the door opens, and a look of horror and surprise is on the man's face, but then it's quickly replaced with fury. In less than a second, I’m met with a sickening crack against my skull with a heavy, steel-toed boot. The last image I see before I fall over and black out is the coldblooded rage in his green eyes as he towers above me.

I’ve taken a lot of abuse in my years, and maybe it’s my age, but I feel like I’m going to die from merely breathing. I know I’ve got a few fractured ribs at this point, at least I hope they're only fractured. I’m dehydrated, and one of my eyes is damn near swollen shut.

After I woke up from being knocked out earlier, I found myself tied up for good, guess they decided to tie me up right this time. I’m sitting in an official mafia-style wooden chair with my hands tied behind my back and my ankles tied to the legs of the seat.
 

Vince looms over me with his fists clenched, demonstrating the power he has over me, but I act unaffected. Both he and this guy named Connor are holding me responsible for a kill I don’t remember. Plus, Vince wants me to spill who else was behind the take down. Apparently, Vince isn't satisfied with just the FBI as an answer.

I spit onto the floor, my saliva tinged with blood. They’ve been trying to break me for the last few hours, but it’s not gonna happen. I was trained to live through hell in the Rangers. I’d die before I gave them anything.

“Maybe you need your memory jogged a little bit more, huh?” Vince snarls, “Because I can go all day, bitch.” He steps forward, and I tighten what stomach muscles I have left before he punches me in the solar plexus.
 

“Oomph.” The wind gets knocked out of me again, and my eyes roll back in my head.
Motherfucker.
The pain is so intense I’m seeing stars. “I already told you,” I wheeze, trying to catch my breath. “When shit went down in that warehouse, everything was a blur.” I think they want me to admit to killing Bennett before they off me, I guess. Who the fuck knows what runs through peoples' minds at a time like this? Either way, they just want to torture me, exacting their retribution, all in the name of Bennett.

Connor runs his fingers through his hair in frustration, and then I think he loses a little bit of sanity, because he draws his gun on me. I straighten my spine, holding steady, not letting it show how unsettled this turn of events has me. I watch his hands shake nervously, and I know right away he’s not a coldblooded killer, but men in this particular mindset are unpredictable. Mercurial men always freak me the fuck out.

“I swore I’d get vengeance for Bennett’s death. He was my fucking brother too,” Connor half barks and half cries. “I want to know what happened that day.”
 

How the fuck can I tell them what happened, when I don’t know who the hell this Bennett guy is? Plus, that sting operation was classified business.

“Calm down a minute, Connor,” Vince suddenly interrupts, imparting his two cents with a sound mind. With his hands held out toward him, he acts as if Connor has gone off his rocker. “I know what the fuck I’m doing. I’ve got this,” Vince calmly states. “Put the gun away...at least for now.”
 

The revolver wobbles in Connor’s hand, and I internally cringe but refuse to shrink back and show fear.
“Your way isn’t really working, Vince, but maybe he’ll talk if I shoot him in the leg, huh?” Connor sounds like a mad man, and in
all honesty, I thought Vince would’ve been the one to shoot me before now.
 

“Connor,” Vince reasons, “I’m the coldblooded killer in this room, not you. You’ve never killed before, and as much as I don’t mind you offing him, I don’t think your doing it is a good idea. I'm not done interrogating him,” he warns.

“If you ask me, Vince, the man isn't going to talk no matter what we do to him. There has to be a first time, for everything, right? So this seems to be a good time as any to get my first kill under my belt,” Connor says, determined to do just that.

My eyes flick back and forth between the two men until one sound changes the entire dynamics in the room. My ears perked up the second Connor cocked the hammer back on the revolver. His eyes are narrowed with determination, and his stance indicates he’s shot many times before, just maybe not at humans. My eyes stay honed in on his one finger resting on the trigger, and the barrel pointed straight at my chest.