No Strings Attached

Chapter Thirty Four

Nate was trembling with excitement by the time they reached the warehouse. By day, it was Franchetti’s abattoir – but the deathly stench in the air of rotting meats and stale blood made it pretty much perfect for his extracurricular activities.

Nate and Jayden emerged from the 4 x 4 – both head to toe in black, because Sebastienne had been worked over by Jay for a few days now – with the bruising and the exhaustion – not to mention the fact that he’d been suspended from the ceiling in all that time – his vision would be beginning to blur in the darkness. He’d not see them coming.

“Well, looky, looky, I caught a hooky,” Nate boomed out as soon as he saw the Frenchman – as soon as he picked him out from the animal carcasses that beat against him on either side. He looked fucking awful – dried blood, black bruises – and the meats bleeding out on either side were also rubbing into his flesh – adding to the image in front of them.

“Jesus,” Nate grabbed Sebastienne’s chin from where it hung languidly against his bloody chest, “I just got out of a fucking coma and I’m more hospitable than you are – where’s your fucking manners? I thought the Frenchies were all about the charm, didn’t you Jay?”

“I did,” Jayden said from the other side of the lank, suspended form, “Talks altogether too fucking much when it’s not necessary if you ask me.”

The double doors swung, echoing in the large space – and despite his apparent unawareness, Sebastienne’s body jerked at the sound as though it was a gunshot.

“Did you just bring him in for a chat,” Franchetti growled, “Or are you going to make a fucking start?”

“Ah, Tony!” Nate boomed, as though an old aunt had popped over for tea, “Just the guy I was looking for! Where’s Kitty? I need my provisions!”

“On her way,” he muttered, arms crossed, gesturing at the door to which his small assistant sauntered through – a large briefcase in her hands. She looked like she was just another office girl – pencil skirt – chignon – deadly weapons all sharpened and sparkling in a neat row within the concealing case.

“Which means you have about twenty seconds to start talking,” Nate growled up at the trembling form.

Jay stripped off his jacket – his body hugged by a tight muscle vest that showed off every thick muscle in his chest as he clicked his neck, before aiming a pummelling blow to Sebastienne’s abdomen – the force sending the meat hook swaying backwards as the body lurched – the form flailing and shaking as it kept being met with one striking blow after another.

A thin rivulet of blood was pouring from the sides of Sebastienne’s mouth at the impact.

“What do you think I’ll tell you?” Sebastienne’s head was drooping again – he was losing consciousness, “Someone else will only take over. This is too big for you two.”

Nate was strapping on a pair of black leather driving gloves – testing the blades that Kitty brought him against his fingertips – deep in thought as he looked back at the gnarled and mauled body hanging on the hook.