This mudak kidnapped my child. He kidnapped April.
He doesn’t get to beg for mercy anymore.
I crouch to his level. Like this, his beady eyes are mere inches from mine. “You have two choices. One, you can tell me what I want to know. If it checks out, I’ll have my best man put a bullet in your skull. Quick and painless.”
He starts to shake his head frantically. “No, no, please—”
“Two,” I cut him off, “I can pick up those pliers. You’ve got no nails left, but I can still see a good number of teeth ripe for the plucking.” For good measure, I run my thumb along his jawline, feeling the ridge of each remaining tooth through his sunken cheek. “You have three seconds to decide, or I’ll do it for you.”
“I can’t!” Two. “I can’t, please, you have no idea—”
I wrinkle my nose. I was looking fo
