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The Butterfly Killer Chapter 27 87%
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Chapter 27

27

Mercer had wondered if Burns was going to hate him after they were done. He had no doubts that Burns wouldn’t do what he’d inferred. Burns might have been a rule follower, but he was also so good at following orders. Did he usually follow Mercer’s order specifically? Not all the time, but that was why Mercer had become very skilled at making Burns follow his orders without realizing he was.

It had also crossed his mind that Burns might go above and beyond with his task. Was he intrigued that it didn’t make him jealous? He was possessive with his property only to a point, but he thought the same would be applied to Burns. It was something to think about. However, it would have to wait after the threat of their lives was over and dealt with.

Cortez pointed to the man standing behind Mercer who was now tied to a metal chair. “Where is Diego? The agent isn’t taking a shit is he?”

The man pulled out his phone. “He’s not picking up, sir.”

Another guy shook his head. “Knew something was wrong with that guy. Can’t trust nobody these days.”

“Shut it, Bruce,” Cortez grunted. He snapped his fingers. “Rough him up until Miguel gets here.”

The guy talking shit grinned. “With pleasure.”

Mercer wasn’t impressed.

The guy cracked his knuckles like it was supposed to do something. Mercer didn’t so much as stare but looked at the guy with boredom. Burns wasn’t going to let him down. Burns was good at his job.

Though as he said that and the guy came closer to him, there was a small, the tiniest bit of…

He wouldn’t go as far to say it was worry but…

Bruce put his hands on either side of the metal chair. He grinned wide, showing his slightly yellow teeth. He breathed garlic breath right into Mercer’s face. Mercer didn’t flinch.

“I’m going to make this as painful as possible.” He leaned in close. “I fucking hate feds.”

Before Bruce could make good on his promise, the warehouse doors opened.

Just on time.

“Hands up!”

Burns walked in with Diego. The man was naked from the waist down. The entrance had Mercer’s eyebrows raising.

Cortez’s men were taken aback by the sight which gave Mercer the chance to swipe Bruce’s feet out from under him. He went down hard, face slamming into the concrete. Mercer stomped his foot on his back to keep Bruce down.

Cortez darted to the right. The other men started shooting at Burns. The bullets hit Diego and he went down in a bloody mess.

Burns shot one man and darted behind the shelves holding large boxes of merchandise.

Mercer wrapped his legs around Bruce who attempted to get up. He got his legs around Bruce’s neck and squeezed until the man went limp.

The last guy chased after Burns. He shot at the box Burns had been standing behind. He peeked around?—

Burns punched the man in the face. The man swayed backwards. Burns hit him one more time and he went down.

The knock out was hot and it blindsided Mercer for a moment. He shook his head, confused by the out of control feeling. He never got out of control. He was anything but not in control.

He frowned as he waited for Burns to come untie him.

“Are you alright?” He asked as Burns came towards him.

Burns was slightly out of breath, but otherwise, he looked unharmed.

Burns chuckled. “I think I should be asking you that. They were about to crush your skull in before I rescued you.”

“I had it under control.”

“Riiight.”

Burns tucked the gun into the front of his waistband. He went around to the back of the chair and crouched. “Any idea who might have the key?”

He messed with the handcuffs, trying a key Mercer didn’t know where he got, but he assumed was off Diego who was now lying face down at the front of the warehouse.

“Check that one.” He nodded toward Bruce who was also lying face down on the ground. He wasn’t dead though.

Burns stepped over the passed out man and searched him up and down. He found a set of keys and came back around. After the fourth key, Mercer heard a click and the handcuffs loosened. They dropped to the floor.

Mercer brought his arms to the front of him and massaged his wrists. There were red marks on either one. The skin stung.

Burns was about to walk away, automatically surveying the area as they were both trained to do. But Mercer grabbed his arm, stopping him from getting away from Mercer as he knew he was trying to do.

Burns avoided his eyes.

“Are you okay, Burns?”

Burns’s brows raised.

Yeah, Mercer wasn’t used to asking that either. He usually didn’t care about people’s feelings or their well being unless he could get something out of it. Or if it benefited him. However, anything related to Burns felt automatically his and he needed to take care of it.

“I’m fine. We need to find Cortez.”

Mercer didn’t believe that at all. He was tempted to force Burns to spit it out. His methods would be unethical and Burns would definitely not like him for awhile, but it was tempting. The sadist in him wanted to go through with it before anyone else showed up.

For a moment, he started to lose control again. He bit his tongue so hard he drew blood.

He didn’t lose control. He was better than that.

“Sure,” he muttered.

He let Burns go.

Did he think about what Burns might have done to get free from Diego? Yes. Did he imagine Burns on his knees, throat stuffed with cock, his eyes teary as he choked? Yes .

He shoved himself up from the chair. The smell of death and blood didn’t make him lose his growing erection. Most times that was what fueled it. The adrenaline was one thing, but when it paired with the sheer power trip of taking someone’s life…well, Mercer kept those thoughts to himself. He’d been to the mandated psychiatrist enough to know these weren’t normal.

But Mercer liked not being normal. He was better than normal.

Burns came back after surveying the area. “Cortez is gone.”

Mercer nodded as he searched the men and found his badge, gun, and phone.

“He knows where Palmer is. Any idea who ‘Miguel’ is?”

“Miguel? If he’s important, he’s been able to stay off the map this long.”

Mercer dialed Chief William’s personal cell. “I think we just found our original Butterfly Killer.”

The phone didn’t even ring once before Williams picked. “—ell me you found something.”

“Sit down, Chief. We’ve got a lot to fill you in. But first, tell your guys to come pick us up.”

“He’s as trained as a puppy,” Miguel mocked as he smoked in the backseat.

Marcus was forced to endure the smoke while he sat beside Miguel. The car filled with smoke fast with the windows rolled up. The car wasn’t big at all. There was barely enough room for his arms and legs. He didn’t know how Roman was dealing with it and he was driving.

Miguel leaned forward, resting his elbow on top of the driver seat. “It’s a big risk to take a cop.”

He took a long drag. His eyes were on Marcus. Narrowed, peering into him like he was searching for the special piece that made sense as to why Roman was interested in him. Marcus doubted he would be of much interest to Miguel.

Half of the reason Marcus had appealed to Roman—as Marcus was starting to realize—was that he was the missing piece in replicating his father’s entire work.

Miguel didn’t know that. To him, Marcus was another pig. Another body to gut. Though, he wouldn’t waste his talent on someone like Marcus.

“What’s so special about you, huh?” Miguel leaned over. He inhaled, smelling loudly. He laughed when Marcus flinched.

“I know he didn’t kidnap no cop just to get to me.” He got closer, breathing on Marcus’s neck. “I would have taken my time with you. I’ve broken many pigs down before. They always squeal .”

Marcus stared at the road. He knew not to give Miguel anymore attention. It was feeding him. The cartel had been supplying this man, inflating his ego, for so long he wasn’t coy. Marcus believed if it wasn’t for the cartel cleaning up his messes, he would have been caught a long time ago. All this time Marcus thought TBK was a mastermind when in fact he was an overzealous man-child who was very much getting on his fucking nerves.

Juan couldn’t talk—bless his soul—and had wedged himself against the other door, shivering as he seemed to try not to nod off. His eyes were unfocused. Marcus could tell even if he was looking at the man’s reflection in the car’s side mirror.

The tongue cutting had been recent by the state of the wound. It had stopped bleeding so either Miguel had cauterized it or it had been long enough that it stopped bleeding on its own. But by the way Juan was acting, it didn’t seem like his body was handling it so well. It wouldn’t be the first time Marcus had heard of someone dying because their tongue had been cut out.

Behind them, Miguel’s partner was following in Roman’s car.

Marcus didn’t know if Miguel was dumb for leaving them un-cuffed or if it was a show of dominance. Was he saying they weren’t worth tying up? He’d take them out before they could overpower him or escape?

“Turn here,” Miguel jerked his head to the left.

Roman knew where Miguel meant. It was a small driveway that lead to the back of very expensive high rise offices. They went past these offices and were stopped short by a gated area.

The gates opened as if they were expecting the two cars. Roman didn’t even have to let his foot off the gas. The car rolled through the gates and toward the large mansion looking out of place next to all the corporate buildings.

Marcus’s brows furrowed. He wanted to look back at Miguel, but he knew he wouldn’t find any answers there. He also didn’t want to chance Miguel having a loose hand and shooting him in the face.

Roman pulled up to the front of the house and stopped.

“What now?”

Miguel only grinned as he tucked his gun away.

Four men dressed in black and definitely armed, spilled out from the house. They opened the driver and passenger door. They pulled Roman and Marcus out and shoved them toward the front door without a word muttered.

Marcus kept his mouth shut. He figured he’d find out what was going on once they were inside. Hopefully, some of this would start making sense and Roman would have a plan to get them out of this situation.

He was also praying Rose would call Mercer and they’d find them. They weren’t far away from the diner. Surely, Mercer and Burns had found out more about Miguel while Marcus was locked up in the mountains.

They were forced through the large foyer and past a large living room. The house was mostly white, but the warm accents such as gold, pale pinks, and lively greens made it feel cozier than it was. Everything screamed money. Not the fake kind of “money” Marcus often saw.

This wasn’t someone putting on a show while swimming in debt. Whoever owned this house, had money for a very long time and knew what to do with it.

Once they passed the large living room, they entered through a dining room even more spacious. Marcus would have marveled at the wooden furniture and large paintings on the walls if he wasn’t shoved out the French doors.

The backyard had to be around the same size as the entire house. The large pool that took up most of the space glistened in the bright sun. It was crystal clear.

Someone swam laps in it. They made lazy strokes as they headed toward the edge of the pool. When they did reach the edge and came up from the water, Marcus could tell then it was a man. His dark hair was peppered with gray and his broad tan back was covered in scars. His muscles flexed as he pulled himself out of the water.

A servant handed him a white fluffy towel. He wiped himself off, skin now glistening in the sun.

He was good looking. Strikingly. The man’s eyes landed on the group now standing on the patio, watching him get out of the pool. He didn’t seem that surprised to see them, but he didn’t look like he was expecting them.

Huh. Was this their boss?

The man continued to dry himself as he walked toward them. The men holding Marcus and Roman tensed, however, Marcus could tell by their body language that they weren’t tensing because they saw this man as their leader. It was tenseness as an enemy grew closer. Their focus turned toward the man as if he was more of a threat than Marcus and Roman were.

Miguel had lingered inside the house. He now walked out and even he froze when he saw the man in swimming trunks.

“Nephew. What are you doing here?”

Trepidation. It wasn’t something Marcus would have thought he’d see on Miguel’s face. Especially when they were supposed to be in a place he deemed safe for himself.

Marcus looked at the nephew with this new information. So Miguel had a sibling. And this nephew of his was causing problems to Miguel.

The stress in Miguel’s voice was surprising. Marcus thought Miguel was this maniac who everyone spoiled. But it seemed there was one person in this cartel world that might threaten Miguel’s ideal life.

The nephew in question threw the towel over his shoulder. Marcus saw no resemblance to Miguel except maybe his complexion and hair color. The nephew’s hair was straight, thick, and slicked back from the water. His lips were full, his brows perfectly arched, and his hooded eyes gave him a permanent resting bitch face.

The thing that stood out the most about him besides is impressive physic were his dark green eyes. They were like jade and when the sunlight struck them just right, they glowed.

“Rent is due. Where’s Dante?”

Miguel frowned. “Do you have any fucking respect?”

“If he won’t call me son, I’m not calling him father.” The nephew had no reaction to Miguel’s anger. He let it roll right off his back as if Miguel was an annoying fly not even worth being swatted.

However, though Miguel hadn’t peaked the nephew’s interest, Marcus and Roman had.

He looked the two over. “Who are they?”

Another servant came out from the house with a pile of clothes. Without missing a beat, the nephew stripped from his trunks.

Miguel groaned. “Jesus Christ!”

Marcus would have looked away if he wasn’t in shock. The nephew had no shame as he dressed himself. “It’s my house, Uncle. Get used to it.”

Miguel was fuming and red in the face as the nephew walked inside, the servants following him. “Let him know I was here. Next time, I won’t ask nicely.”

Miguel cursed to himself. “Fucking cunt bastard.”

He seemed to forget Marcus and Roman were there to be dealt with. It wasn’t until he turned around after almost pulling out his hair and saw them that he realized he still had an audience.

“What are you waiting for? Take them to the fucking pool house!”

The men awkwardly shuffled around Miguel who was seemingly having a breakdown. From Marcus was gathering, Miguel and his brother didn’t own this house and were indebted to the nephew.

Marcus would have laughed if he wasn’t in this current situation. Miguel being pushed to his limits wasn’t going to be good for them.

The pool house wasn’t as nice as the main house, but it was nicer than any home Marcus had ever lived. The large living room bled into the kitchen and small dining area. There was a door at the end of the small hallway that probably lead to the bedroom and the joining bathroom.

The men pulled out two chairs from the breakfast bar and shoved them into them. They were tied with rope around the ankles and chest.

One of the men tsked. “I hope this doesn’t take long. I have a date with Nina.”

The other man snickered. “Nina? She’s making the rounds.”

The man with the date with Nina sent him a glare. Marcus got the brunt of the man’s anger as he tightened the ropes even more. Marcus grimaced.

Roman stared at the man like he was going to put a hole through his head by doing so. The man caught Roman’s glare and got up into Roman’s face.

“The fuck you looking at?” Before the man could utter a baseless threat, the pool house’s doors flew open hard enough to take them off the hinges.

“—he’s got some fucking nerve to come around here! The next time I see him, Dante, I swear I’m going to?—”

“Calm down,” Dante snarled as he followed Miguel through the door.

He grabbed Miguel by the arm and pulled him back from trying to charge toward Marcus and Roman.

“You’re too soft on him. Who do you think taught him everything he knows? Who punished him? Who urged him to take a stance?” Miguel got up into Dante’s face. “I did you favor. I can do you another favor by taking out that brat.”

Dante’s face turned red. “If you touch a single hair on his head, Miguel, I swear I’ll make anything you’ve done seem like dos besos .”

Miguel snickered. “Sure, manito. ”

Dante hit Miguel across the face. Miguel didn’t even stumble from the hit that looked like it might have broken his neck.

Miguel kept his face turned away from where Marcus and the others could see. He slowly lifted his hand to his face.

“I’ve dealt with your disrespect since we were children. I’ve made excuses for you and I’ve protected you when I could have made an example of you.” Dante grabbed Miguel by the scruff of his nape. He yanked him close so he could say something in his ear.

Miguel went rigid. His hands clenched into fists.

Dante shoved him back. “Get rid of these pieces of shit and I just might rethink drowning you in the fucking pool.”

Dante turned around and slammed through the door again. Miguel stood with his hand on his bleeding nose. He snarled to himself before wiping the blood on the front of his shirt.

He turned his murderous gaze to the group watching him.

“Get. Out,” he growled between clenched teeth to the men.

No one moved.

“I said get out!”

The men stumbled over their feet to leave the pool house. When they were gone, Miguel turned his back to Roman and Marcus. He wiped his face roughly before he turned around again.

The manic look in his eyes told everything Marcus needed to know. This was no longer Miguel. This was the Butterfly Killer.

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