TomTom.
Two weeks ago, he was tied to the murder of a teenager in Knoxville. Two hours ago, he walked free from court after the case against him collapsed.
But the asshole did it.
Raped and murdered her before dumping the young girl’s body in a swamp two hundred miles away. The only reason he’s walking free is because someone fucked up with the evidence along the way—a technicality they call it. Well, fuck that!
Paw, Wyatt, and Shooter picked him up outside a high school this afternoon. Sitting in his pickup truck.
Watching.
Waiting.
Hunting.
I’m not going to feel bad about his death.
He deserves what’s coming.
However, I’m not one for torture. To be honest, I don’t have the stomach for it. I’m not a psychopath—although some might debate that fact—and I don’t believe in prolonging pain longer than necessary. This guy is scum—a bottom feeder. Getting rid of him will be doing the world a gigantic favor.
Shooter has already worked him over, and it wouldn’t surprise me if Paw and Wyatt have too.
His chin rests against his chest, but he lifts it when he hears me walk in. The moment he fixes his eyes to me, he smiles and begins to laugh.
I don’t react.
It’s what he wants.
And I’m not here to fuck around.
So, I get straight to the point.
“Where is he?”
He plays dumb.
“Who?”
So I pull the Ruger from the waistband of my jeans and shove it under his jaw.
“That piece of shit you ride with… Ghost.”
Again, he laughs, so I screw the tip of the Ruger tighter into his jaw. “One thing you should know about me is that I have very little patience. And when I get impatient, my trigger finger gets very twitchy. So, let’s try this again, shall we?”
He scoffs. “Oh, I know who you are. I know all about you, Jack Dillinger. President of the Kings of Mayhem, Tennessee. The big man himself.” His eyes gleam with resentment. “Fucking asshole.”
“Says the child killer.”
“She was eighteen.”
“Oh, that makes it so much better.” My finger itches. “Where is Ghost?”
“You’re already a dead man!” He laughs, blood coating his teeth and running down his chin.
“You’re right. I am a dead man. Ghost made sure of that when he put me on this path.” I crouch before him. “So, I’ve got nothing to fucking lose.”
“You better hope that’s true. Because he’ll take everything from you before he comes for you.”
In a distant part of my brain, I think of Bronte, but I quickly tuck it away. “Now is not the time for threats,” I warn.
He smiles evilly, and for a split second, I wonder how many women have endured his cruel smile as the last thing they ever see. I move my gun and press it tighter into his chin.
“Now, for the last fucking time, where is Ghost?”
Another laugh.
Another second of my patience is lost.
That’s when I realize. “You don’t know where he is, do you?”
His smile drops long enough for me to know I’m right.
Fear deepens on his face.
His time is up, and he knows it.
There’s no point in me keeping him alive any longer if he can’t tell me where Ghost is hiding out.
“What are you waiting for? Get on with it.” His voice is tough, but I can see the dread in his eyes. “Or are you waiting for me to beg you not to kill me?”
“It would be pointless for you to try.”
Defeated, he snickers. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
I pause. “The teenager in Knoxville. Why did you do it?”
TomTom smiles evilly. “Why shouldn’t I do it?”
“I don’t know, because murdering innocent people is wrong, fucking ugly, and vile.”
Another snicker. “And what you’re doing isn’t, you fucking hypocrite.”
I ignore his name-calling and ask calmly, “Would you do it again?”
He laughs. “Of course, I would. You know I would. And how do you know? Because the same poison running through my veins runs through yours, Jack Dillinger. Yeah, I know who you are and what you’re about. I can taste your bloodlust from here. Oh, you claim it’s for vengeance, but the truth is a bit darker than that. You and I both know it. One taste isn’t quite enough, is it, Jacky boy.”
The time for talking is over.
I’m not going to let him worm his way into my head.
I know who I am.
I stand. Now’s the time to start talking with my gun.
“Anything you want to tell me before you die?” I ask. “Any regrets?”
“The only thing I regret is not being around to see Ghost destroy you.” He laughs again. “And he’s coming for you, Jack. For you and everyone you love.”
His words are like a razor against my last raw nerve.
Yep, this conversation is over.
He gives me one last insane grin. “Ghost is going to find you,” he spits. “Then you’re dead.”
Hate and venom swirl in my blood. “I guess I’ll see you in hell, then.”