Page 134 of EX

Yeah, it makes that sloppy wet sound you hear in movies. And blood squirts out and begins to soak the floor.

I roll Mutt to his left side and cut him free from the rope around his wrists and ankles.

I’m thinking about my Katie girl again as I do this. Picturing her tied up to my bed. My knife touching her cunt. Teasing her. Touching her supple nipple, pressing, knowing it brought her pain, knowing she wanted to feel the pain. Because she trusted me. She knew I’d know when to start and stop.

Is there anything more beautiful in life than a person’s truest form of trust?

I blink a few times and come back to reality, which is my cousin bleeding out on the floor of the garage.

I roll Mutt to his back and go get a few thick cloths for his shoulder.

I rip his shirt open like a professional wrestler would do in the ring during a promo.

The cut is deep, obviously. It’s nasty, bleeding, but it won’t be fatal.

This is a message. Directly from Axel to me.

He’s pointing out a weakness. My biggest weakness.

Mutt is a liability in this war between Axel and me.

I slap Mutt’s face a few times and he starts to come to.

“Tell me what happened,” I say to him.

His face is in shock. “She stabbed me.”

“She…? This wasn’t Axel?”

“I don’t know. I think I was set up. She text me. Wanting me. Said no charge.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. I thought it was someone from here. She said some stuff about her car and me fixing it. A long time ago.”

“And you were trading blow jobs for oil changes while I was inside,” I say.

Mutt groans. “This fucking hurts, Corbin.”

“Sure it does. You got stabbed. But, hey, focus. We need to figure out a story here. This is a workplace accident, okay, Mutt?”

“Yeah. Sure. Of course it is. Can’t tell the truth. Ever.”

“Good thinking,” I say.

I stand up.

My cousin is a brain-dead dipshit for sure, but he knows better than to let anything happen to the garage. This place is allhe’s ever had. He uses the place to make money and to get blow jobs.

“Listen, Mutt, this is going to be an awful experience for you, but you’re going to need to drive yourself to a hospital right now,” I say. “You’re going to tell them you were working on a car and you were stabbed by a piece of broken glass. Something like that. If anyone asks anything crazy you just shut up and scream in pain.”

“Corbin, I can’t drive,” Mutt groans.

“I’m not driving you. Things won’t look right. Plus, I’ve got my own business to deal with. Axel wanted to get my attention. He has it. Now pick yourself up, put on a work shirt and get all bloodied up and get to the hospital. You’re not going to die, Mutt. Okay? If you sit around here and keep bleeding or you let that wound get infected, then you will die.”

I walk to the bathroom and scrub my hands.

I stare at my reflection in the dirty mirror.