Page 15 of Iced Out

Cochise and the other two men stepped back as Rodriguez approached the man tied to the metal springs. His arm hung at his side, tense, his fist clenching the handle of the scourge. His fingers flexed around the leather grip, squeezing and relaxing, his face a brittle landscape of rage and anguish.

The three men believed he saw the face of Greco’s killer on this man. It didn’t matter that Rodriguez had gutted the killer himself, and that he was dead and gone; to the young, heartbroken man, all these fuckers wore the same face.

“No…” the man whimpered, his head flopping back and forth. “Please… don’t…” Blubbering sobs broke in his throat. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

“I don’t accept your apology,” Rodriguez whispered, bringing up his arm. He struck with precision and fury. The nails sank into the man’s flesh, biting deep, and when Rodriguez jerked his arm back, chunks of meat came with it. The man screamed and thrashed, his midsection bouncing forcefully against the springs. Rodriguez whipped the scourge up and back for another swing, flinging blood and bits of flesh all over the hanging guest, who turned his face away, jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut.

Clint grabbed the man’s jaw and forced his head back. “Open your fucking eyes and watch, asshole,” he hissed. “Or I’ll cut off your goddamn eyelids.”

His chest heaving violently, the guest opened his eyes in time to see Rodriguez slash into the other man a second time. The tails of the scourge caught his victim on the upper arm and ripped off half his bicep in a single clump. Blood splattered the young Spaniard’s face and chest. He didn’t flinch.

The metal springs creaked and protested as the man convulsed, his screams muffled as he began to gag on his pain.

The hanging guest choked on his horror, head shaking, tears flowing.

Cochise watched him; his trauma wasn’t a result of his buddy’s suffering—but of the reality that he was next.

Brad couldn’t breathe as his throat and chest tightened with ungodly pressure. He wanted to shut his eyes, but he was too terrified to call the cowboy’s bluff. The cowboy wasn’t bluffing—he would fucking cut off Brad’s eyelids if Brad closed them again.

Dan’s blood and specks of his flesh clung to Brad’s face, neck, and chest. More of “Dan” flung back against Brad with each backward swing of the spic’s arm.

Brad’s screams began to form words. “Stop! Stop! Make him stooop!!”

The other three men stood still and silent, with no intention of stopping the slaughter.

Brad shrieked in horror when one of the whip’s tails caught on Dan’s cock and ripped it off his body. The skinned organ detached from the nails and plopped wetly between Brad’s feet. “No-no-no!!” Brad screamed hysterically and kicked wildly at the severed member, his feet slipping on the bloody concrete. “Get it away! Get it away!”

His vision blurred and darkened at the edges. Let me pass out—please let me pass out! His mind slid toward the darkness when he was suddenly brought back by a splash of icy water flung against his chest and face.

“Huuhh!!” Brad sucked for air as the freezing water stalled his system and went up his nostrils. He coughed violently as the liquid went down his windpipe.

“Don’t want to fall asleep now,” the cowboy drawled, gripping a metal bucket. “The fun’s just beginning.” His mouth twitched. “And we all know how much you boys like to have fun.”

Brad watched in stark horror as the cowboy scooped up another bucket of water from a large blue barrel next to the wooden table and walked over to Dan—barely coherent—and splashed him in the face.

Somehow, Dan came back to consciousness… and that was the most frightening thing of all.

CHAPTER 7

“Hey.” Cochise smacked the man in the face. “You still with us? You’re not pussying out already, are you? A big, tough fucker like you?”

The guest tied to the springs flopped his head slowly back and forth—not in answer to the question, but rather in delirium and excruciating pain. A steady stream of bloody saliva drained from the corner of his mouth, dangling from his chin in one continuous string. His watery, bloodshot eyes kept trying to roll back in his head as his breath came in short, stuttered bursts.

The asshole would check out soon due to blood loss. But he still had a smidge of life left in him. For now.

Cochise grabbed his jaw and turned the man’s face forward. “Look at me,” he demanded.

The man’s eyes rolled like marbles in his head, glazed and unfocused.

Cochise squeezed until something began to give. A choked whimper bubbled in the man’s throat. “I said… look at me.”

With much effort, the guest managed to focus on the Egyptian, tears running down his face and spilling over Cochise’s hand.

“At the park, you hit my kid for recording your illegal behavior.” Cochise leaned closer until their faces nearly touched. “I saw the video. I know which hand struck the blow.” He unsheathed his large knife and touched the tip to the soft flesh below the man’s left eye, causing it to bulge in the socket. “I’m sure even a dumbass like you is familiar with an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.” He raised the knife and pressed the blade against the man’s right wrist. “You hit my kid… I take your hand.”

Cochise ground down with all his strength, grinding the man’s hand into the metal springs as the razor-sharp blade sliced through flesh and bone.

A blood-curdling scream erupted from the guest, and he started to thrash. Cochise slammed his free arm against the man’s collarbone, pinning him against the springs as he continued to saw his way through his wrist, unfazed by his victim’s shrieks and cries.