The Inspector Walter Darriteau Murder Mysteries - Books 1-4 by David Carter (best finance books of all time .txt) 📕

this interrogation, which I’m sure he won’t, he will live with a deformity for the rest of his life. And perhaps I should do that to him, to watch him suffer.

“You’re telling me those two girls who sat at the police station last night were lying about you?” I tip my head to the side, setting the hammer down, which has relief flushing across Billy’s face, but not before I pick up a pair of pliers which will come in handy. His expression, or shall I say half his expression, turns to pure dread when he sees what I’m holding.

“P-please?” he splutters blood, the crimson liquid dripping from his mouth, and a tooth falls from the left side of his lips.

“Shit, I must’ve gotten one of those pearly whites,” I tell him, chuckling. “Now, you’re going to tell me more about the job the Serpents are doing for the Cartel,” I inform him, lifting the metal tool in my hand while waving it in front of his face.

The threat is clear.

I overheard the rumors about the Serpents stealing youngsters, but Billy didn’t give them over to whoever he’s working for. He made the mistake of passing out after raping both girls, and thankfully, they escaped.

My blood boiled when I heard their recollection of that night from our informant at the station. Which brings me here, to right the wrongs, to cleanse the sins of the devils. I’ve done some shit in my life, and some of it wasn’t great, but never have I ever forced myself on anyone. I’ll kill, I’ll maim, but my victims have all deserved it, just like the man before me right now.

“I-I c-c-can’t,” he whimpers when I clamp his finger in the thick metal teeth. “P-please,” he begs. “They’ll kill me.” I’ve seen grown men cry, most of them when I’ve had them in this chair, questioning them about some crime they’ve committed. And Billy is no different.

“I’ll fucking kill you right now. How about that?” I challenge, squeezing the handle of the pliers until I hear the beautiful crack of the knuckle between the metal.

His cries are like music to my ears. I enjoy the torture, it allows me to focus, to realize that what I’m doing is good. I’m righting wrongs. I’m the fucking avenging angel and I enjoy the job.

“I-I can’t…” His words falter into the silence as he regards us. Six burly bastards ready to cut him to shreds because of his twisted mindset. “P-Please…”

“Pass me the gas canister,” I order. Howler is the one to grab it, handing it to me with a grin on his face. The asshole loves violence, just like I do. It’s in our blood, in our veins. We were born for this life, and even the knowledge of cops who are usually on our doorstep doesn’t stop us.

But, if they could do their fucking job, like put shit like this away, then we wouldn’t have to do what we are doing right now. Flicking the lighter in front of Billy’s face, I watch the flames dance in his fear-filled eyes and I crack a smile.

I twist the cap on the gas, listening to the slosh of liquid escape when I tip the canister. He knows what’s coming for him, and his eyes bulge with agonizing fear. It’s a beautiful thing to hold someone’s life in your hands. Knowing that at any moment, you could snuff them out like a light, and they’ll never breathe again.

“Are you going to tell me who you’re working for?” I ask again, halting my dousing of his body in the foul smelling liquid, knowing that he’s going to break. He’s a weakling. It’s so clear when his lower lip trembles and the stench of his urine hits my nostrils when I bring the dancing flame closer to his face.

“F-f-father… L-L-Lorenzo,” he mumbles, as tears stream from his eyes. “H-he’s l-looking for g-g-girls.” The moment he mutters the name, I nod, knowing Howler will be on the case, tracking down the bastard we need. I will bring down the organization, and I don’t care who I kill to do it.

Without another warning, I bring the gas up and empty the clear liquid on him before flicking the lighter. The sizzle of flesh invades my ears, and the smell of burning skin assaults my nostrils. Justice is being served, and satisfaction courses through my veins.

The screams of a dying man is a sound I never tire of, the same way the moan of a woman is a melody I am addicted to. It’s a need, a constant desire to listen, to have life in my hands and then to twist it into either pain or pleasure.

The moment Billy takes his final breath, I hand the gas canister to one of the other guys. I don’t even notice who’s standing behind me. I shove the lighter into my pocket, making my way out into the garden, needing fresh air.

When my gaze tracks the house, lifting to the second floor, I find her at the window, watching me. She looks beautiful as she stands there, her anger clear, her fear apparent, but her curiosity a fucking aphrodisiac.

Making my mind up, I hurry inside, taking the stairs two at a time, and when I reach my bedroom, I unlock the door, shoving it open. A gasp falls from Scarlett, but I don’t pay her any attention. I lock the door and hang the key over my neck.

I can feel her gaze on me. She must smell the gas and death emanating from me like a fucking cologne. Shrugging off my cut, I tug the tee over my head and stop at the entrance to the bathroom.

“Care to join me?” I arch a brow over my shoulder at her.

“Fuck you, Darius!” Her words are spat with venom, but I don’t miss how her gaze trails from my torn jeans up my torso before she locks her angry gaze on me.

Shrugging, I chuckle as I head into