The Scarred One(26)

He smiled. “She’s not. She’s not taking care of anything.” He still found his release in the shower by his own hand. She’d offered to help him out when she caught him fucking his fist. Henry refused. He didn’t want her to touch him when he couldn’t touch her.

“Wow, this must be a nice new change for you,” Caleb said.

“It is.”

“You look different. Donna mentioned it to me the other day.”

“What do you mean?” Henry asked, glancing over at his friend.

The sound of Drake crying out filled the air¸ but it didn’t stop either of them talking. Drake wasn’t going to leave the warehouse alive. He’d been sloppy in his security. Usually Drake was surrounded by several large men carrying guns even when he was dealing with his women. For once Elijah’s people had caught him alone, without anyone to help him.

“You’re smiling. I’ve got to agree with her. This is how you used to be before the fighting and we got into this business. You know, before you were taken.”

Henry folded his arms. Thinking about the time when he was taken wasn’t the best for him. It was around the same time that he stopped going back to his apartment. The scarred face made it impossible for him to get away from the past. When he was around Lydia, he wasn’t aware of the scars on his face.

“It’s nothing.”

“But Lydia’s different. I see the man you once were. There’s no way you can deny that.”

Drake screamed as Elijah pulled out a nail. They were going back to historical torture methods. Henry had to respect the man.

“I’m not denying anything, Caleb. She makes me feel, and I like that.”#p#分页标题#e#

“What about the other women?”

“They’re done.”

“Donna’s worried.”

“Have you turned into a pussy that answers to your woman, Caleb? Funny, you didn’t strike me as the kind of man who took orders from a woman.” Henry hated feeling like he was being observed under a microscope, and so far, Caleb and Donna were leaving him feel like a bug.

He turned to look at Caleb seeing the anger in his eyes.

“Shit, sorry, look, I don’t want to argue or fight. You’re my friend, and I appreciate your concern even though you don’t need to. I’m not going to hurt Lydia. Tell Donna to stop worrying and to leave us to get it done.”

Caleb nodded. “Fair enough.”

Henry turned back to the action as Drake dropped his head sobbing.

“You may as well tell us where they are,” Elijah said.

“Fuck off.” Drake’s voice no longer held the conviction that he was in control. He looked on the edge of death.

Elijah grabbed his hair, pulling the man’s head back. Henry pulled his cell phone out of his pocket to see if Lydia had sent him a message. The screen was clear, and he quickly checked the time.

“You’re going to put up a fight for no reason?”

“It’s not for no reason,” Drake said. Drool was pouring out of his mouth. His hands were a bloody mess.

“No?”

“We all know I’m not leaving this warehouse alive. Why should I give you anything? I’m dead anyway. It’ll give me pleasure even in death to know you’re going to suffer.” Drake looked past Elijah’s face to stare at him. “I heard Bill took a liking to your woman. It’s going to be hard letting her out on her own with him waiting around to take her.”

Henry tensed up, and Drake saw it.

“I knew there was more to her than a simple whore. Henry doesn’t do whores. He fucks them at his club and never gets personal.” Drake laughed. His teeth were decorated with blood, and there were several teeth that had been pulled. Elijah was one sick bastard. The art that he displayed with torture sickened Henry. He liked to pummel men and do the occasional torture, but there were limits even for him. Elijah was showing his sinister side. Henry wouldn’t touch the mouth in any of his victims.

“Where are they?” Henry asked.

“You’re going to have to wait to find them.”

“This makes no sense. You don’t get anything out of it. You’re in pain.”

“So, it’s going to end soon. It makes no difference to me. I’m not giving you their location.” Drake laughed, tilting his head back and coughing. “Why would I help you fuckers? We’re enemies.”

Elijah stood, and the chair he’d been sat on clattered to the ground echoing around the whole warehouse. He removed his jacket, then his crisp white shirt that he hadn’t gotten any blood on. How many men had this fucker tortured?