Bent, Not Broken Read Online Free Page A

him.
    He bided his time as Bruce stopped against a wall to take a piss. It wouldn’t be long until he didn’t have a cock to piss with. Pulling the car against the curb, Joker climbed out. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Joker followed close enough behind the bastard who was going to experience some pain. No, not some pain, a lot of agony. A shit load of pain.
    Rounding the alley, Joker grabbed Bruce from behind, slamming against the cement wall.
    “What the fuck?” Bruce said, turning around to face him.
    “Go on, Bruce, hit me. Let me see how you fare with hitting a real fucking man instead of terrorizing little girls.” Joker got right up in his face, almost begging for the bastard to take a shot, any shot that would give Joker a chance to hurt him.
    “Who the hell are you? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bruce had paled though.
    “You don’t know me, but I know a lot about you. We’ve got a mutual acquaintance: Brenda, your ex-wife.” What little color Bruce had disappeared at the mention of his ex-wife.
    “I’ve stayed away. I told her I would.”
    “You see, Bruce, I’ve got a problem. Amy’s my woman, and you hurt her. You took something away from her that she’ll never get back, and now it’s time for you to pay the price.” Wrapping his fingers around Bruce’s neck, Joker fought the temptation to end him now. “And I’m going to make sure you beg for death long before I deliver it.”

J oker dragged an unconscious Bruce by the arm, tossed his ass on the floor of the abandoned warehouse owned by The Soldiers, and stared at his body. The fucker was still breathing for now, and the energy inside of Joker to end his life now ran him hard. But he had been planning this for a long fucking time, and would make the fucker beg for mercy before he was finished with him. He spit in Bruce direction then turned and faced the metal table pressed against the wall. There was a chair and rope beside the table and on top of the scarred, rusted-out metal was an array of things that would bring Joker a hell of a lot of pleasure.
    After he picked Bruce up off the floor and tied him to the chair, he moved back and pulled a joint out of his cut. He didn’t need to be high or drunk for this, but a little weed sounded good before the party got started. For about five minutes he waited for the motherfucker to wake up, and when his impatience got the better of him, he walked over to the sink. After filling up the bucket with cold water, he turned and stared at Bruce. Leaning against the sink, he inhaled his joint, took it out from between his lips, and exhaled. The smoke billowed out in front of him in a hazy white cloud, and when it dissipated he moved the joint to the counter, set it on the edge, and picked up the bucket.
    He threw it on the bastard; he loved it when Bruce sputtered awake and started coughing as he inhaled some of the water. When Bruce caught sight of Joker, he started struggling against his bindings, but there was no fucking way was he getting out of the knots Joker had tied. He watched Bruce struggle and scream out, and then amusement filled Joker.
    “You sorry piece of shit. We are out in the middle of nowhere.” After he had knocked Bruce the fuck out, he’d driven an hour out of town to this secluded spot. “Ain’t no one hearing your soon-to-be dead ass.”
    The rapist sputtered out pleas that he was a changed man, but Joker blocked everything else out. He took a step back, took off his cut and T-shirt, and grinned over at the tools on display. He’d be using many of them on this asshole and enjoying every second of it. He picked up his joint again, inhaled from it, and blew the smoke out softly until a cloud covered his vision. It dispersed, and he grabbed a pair of brass knuckles from the tray, slipped them on, and moved back to Bruce.
    “I didn’t mean to do anything to Amy. She’s my daughter and I love her—”
    Joker didn’t let him finish; he cracked him in