The King(57)

“John,” she begged in a cracking voice. “Stay with me, John…”

THIRTEEN
“Tell me he’s coming around again.”
As Assail spoke, he stared out the front windshield of the Rover, the hilt of a dagger locked in the grip of his right hand. They were deep into the woody fringes of Caldwell’s zip code, no lights from dwellings twinkling through the tree line, no other vehicles coming or going along the icy, two-lane country road.
Benloise had roused briefly, only to “pass out” again. Which could well be a lie.
“Not yet,” Ehric muttered. “But he’s alive.”
Not for long.
“And naked,” the fighter tacked on.
Assail wrenched around just as his cousin collapsed his hunting knife. Naked, indeed. Benloise’s bespoke suit had been beshredded, the fine navy fabric in tatters, the silk shirt underneath unfit even for a housecleaner’s use. All jewelry had been removed as well, from the Chopard diamond watch to the gold signet ring, from the link bracelet to the cross on a thick gold chain.
The booty was bundled into a cup holder, along with a cell phone that had had its battery removed so that any GPS signal would be cut off. The clothing had been left wherever it lay.
Mayhap he was indeed unconscious. Difficult to imagine the man not struggling through that.
“How much farther?” Assail demanded.
“Right about here would be sufficient,” Ehric said.
The male’s brother hit the brakes, threw the gearshift in park, and killed the engine. Immediately, Assail got out, looked around and reconfirmed their isolation. No lights from any dwelling. No sound of any traffic. No one anywhere.
“Shut off the headlights.”
With the flurries having abated and the moon making its appearance through spotty clouds, there was more than enough illumination coming through the pine trees.
Assail sheathed his dagger and then cracked his knuckles. “Get him up and out.”
Ehric manhandled the deadweight with admirable aplomb, given that Benloise was unclothed and limp, a piece of luggage that had no handles, as it were.
The drug wholesaler returned to consciousness just as he was mounted against the icy cold contours of the Rover, and the jerk that announced his wake up was carried through to all his limbs, his arms and legs jangling like those of a puppet.
The cousins pinned the man against the SUV—and the great Ricardo Benloise no longer seemed powerful at all: He’d always looked commanding in his fancy suits, but without benefit of those carefully constructed jackets and slacks, he was just a compilation of shrunken hollows, his ribs standing out in sharp relief, his soft belly protruding over bony hips, his knees wider than his thighs and his calves.
“Let us not waste time,” Assail said in a low tone. “Tell me where she is.”
No response. Benloise’s body might have been weak, but his mind, his eyes were sharp as ever: Though he was at a mortal disadvantage, his will was unbending.
That was not going to last.
Assail drew his arm across his own torso and cuffed the man with the back of his hand. “Where is she!”
Benloise’s head ripped to the side as the slapping sound rang out, blood speckling Ehric’s jacket.
“Where is she!” Assail hit the wholesaler again, his knuckles clapping hard enough to sting on the follow-through. “Where is she!”
The cousins hitched their prisoner up higher as he began to sag.
Assail snapped a hold onto the man’s throat and helped in the effort until Benloise’s feet dangled six inches off the snow. “I will kill you. Here and now. If you do not tell me where she is.”
Benloise’s eyes rolled around, but eventually met Assail’s. And yet he said absolutely nothing.
Assail tightened his grip until the airway compressed. “Marisol. You tell me where you have taken her.”
Benloise’s mouth cranked open as he fought for oxygen, his thin arms pulling against what held them, his legs kicking so his heels pinged into the quarter panel.
“Marisol. Where is she.”
Those eyes never left Assail’s—to the point where, under different circumstances, one might have respected the man’s obstinacy. Now it was a lightning rod for frustration.
“Where is she!”
With his free hand, Assail reached in between the man’s legs and twisted the balls that had tucked in tight to the torso.
The scream that rose up was caught at the throat, Assail’s hold silencing the sound. And he wanted to do so much more, but he couldn’t kill the bastard. Not yet. Ordering his hand to release the airway, it was a moment before the digits obeyed.
Benloise coughed and gasped, blood from his split lip falling upon his naked chest.
“Where is she!”