“Bitch,” Carter hissed, his voice rough and scratchy. The bastard squirmed in severe discomfort. It was nothing compared to the pain and agony he inflicted on other girls.
Reaching in my pocket for my switchblade, I flipped it open. His body stiffened at the sound. “I’m guessing you don’t need your eyes to know what this is.” I ran the cool backside of the knife along Carter’s neck. “Try not to move. I might accidentally nick your ear or a vital artery. I was never good at anatomy.”
“You bitches will pay for this,” he growled.
“No, it’s you who will pay,” I seethed, letting my anger overtake my fear, and I began the process of cutting off his clothes. Dragging the knife down the front of his long sleeve shirt, the blade split the material, despite Carter’s pathetic attempts at trying to wiggle or move his hands to make it difficult. Not that it was an easy task, but with Kenna there, it was manageable.
“Should I tase him again?” she offered with too much eagerness.
Carter’s eyes were puffy, red, and swollen from the pepper spray. It would still be twenty minutes or so before the effects wore off, but it stung like a bitch. “Don’t,” he protested quickly, an air of desperation entering his features.
I shook my head. “Not yet. He’ll cooperate, won’t you?”
Carter stilled, except for the occasional twitch he couldn’t control.
Making a cut at both of the shoulders, Kenna and I each ripped the material down the sleeve, tossing it aside and leaving Carter shirtless. Now for the pants. A task neither Kenna nor I were eager to undergo.
We both stared at the Academy sweatpants that hung low on his hips and the wispy patch of hair that disappeared into the waistband. “Should we rock, paper, scissors?” she offered, glancing sidelong at me.
Snot dripped from his nose as he struggled to deal with the mace burning his eyes. “I will get out of here. What do you think I will do to you then?” he threatened, regardless of his position.
His threat was very real, despite it being said with a gravelly voice and a running nose, and I’d be a fool not to take it seriously. I didn’t know what he would do when this night was over, but I was also past caring. I pressed the blade against his flat stomach. “I don’t give a shit. Not about you.”
“What about your boyfriend? You do care about him, don’t you?” And the browbeating continued. It was all he had. Threats and intimidations were Carter’s favorite weapons, and I hated to admit, he somehow made them effective enough that it worked on a lot of people, myself included.
But not tonight—tonight I had the power. His fate was in my hands.
And I liked it.
I let the knife slip. It sliced cleanly over a ripple of stomach muscle, a tiny cut, but enough to draw blood and cause him to wince. “Oops,” I said.
“You cut me,” he gasped, genuinely surprised.
I glared at him, flashing the switchblade in front of his face. “What were you saying?”
“I’ll kill you. I’m going to fucking kill you,” he gritted out between clenched teeth.
I sighed. “That threat is getting old. You should have killed me when you had the chance.” My gaze lifted to Kenna’s. “Here, hold this. If he so much as moves a muscle, cut him.”
“With pleasure,” she grinned.
Grabbing his shoe, I yanked it off, tossing it into the grass. I went for the next one, but there was a flaw with that plan. The asshole wouldn’t sit still, the effects of the taser slowly wearing off, giving him more control over his movements. He tried to kick out at me as I reached for the other shoe.
“Fuck!” I shrieked, frustrated as I fell backward onto my ass. Obviously, this wasn’t a very well-thought-out plan.
The next thing I knew, Kenna had her foot embedded into his gut. He made a weird oomph noise, followed by a wheeze. It was all I needed. Scooting off my ass, I scrambled to snatch the shoe, ripping it off his foot.
“Whore,” he heaved on an exhale. “You’re nothing but whores.”
At this point, I was oblivious to his name-calling. It bounced off me like there was a shield I’d erected around myself. I glanced at Kenna, checking to see how she was doing. The knuckles wrapped around the switchblade were white, not from fear but rage.
Anger vibrated off her in hot waves.
“Kenna,” I called, wanting her to turn her attention away from Carter. She continued to glare at him with a look that promised death. It scared me. She might actually stab him. As much as I wanted Carter gone, I wasn’t about to be involved in murder.
“Kenna!” I hissed louder. “Look at me.”
She finally dragged her eyes from Carter. “He deserves so much more than humiliation.”