Rett

“Where is Boudreau?” I growled.

The man’s lips moved, but no words came as his head moved slowly from side to side. His light brown hair was matted with dried blood. The flesh around his wrists was raw from the coarse ropes and more blood ran down his arms.

My grip fisted his filthy shirt and pulled him forward. “I asked you a fucking question.”

“I-I don’t know where he goes. He just shows up and ...