Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“Okay. Let’s try this again.” I swirl the hose. “Who are you working for?”
He clamps his jaw shut.
Disappointing.
And also, very predictable.
Boring . . .
The first strike lands across his thighs, jarring his whole body with a crack that bounces off the concrete. He cries out, more from shock than pain.
That swing was mild at best.
A warning of sorts.
The next time, he won’t be as lucky.
I wait a beat for him to speak, but he doesn’t.
This will be fun.
The second blow catches his upper arm. He sucks in a sharp breath, biting down hard, eyes bright with panic.
I’m careful where I aim and how hard I hit. I want pain, not unconsciousness. I want fear, but I also want him awake enough to regret every decision that led him to this chair.
After a few more strikes, his breathing turns ragged. Sweat runs down his forehead as his arms strain against the zip ties.
It’s cute that he thinks he can escape.
“See . . .” I step in front of him again, still calm. “This can stop any time. You aren’t built for this. You fold. It’s who you are. So how about you be useful?”
He wheezes. “You’re insane.”
“Objectively,” I agree. “And you still decided to test me. Whose fault is that?”
His head drops down, and I know I’ve got him. I lift my arm, more for show but just high enough to scare him.
“Fine. Stop. There’s a new crew,” he rasps finally, words scraped raw out of his throat.
“I know that,” I say. “Try not to bore me.”
“They wanted access,” he coughs. “Said if I skimmed a little, covered some shipments, they’d cut me in. Said Antonio Amante was . . . comfortable. Told me you were his nephew, and that you were lazy. That you wouldn’t notice.”
I smile slowly. “People say the wildest things when they’ve never met me.”
“They paid me well,” he rushes. “Said they had backing, that no one would dare—”
“Who?” My patience snaps, the word cracking like a whip. “Which crew?”
He sucks in a breath like it’s acid.
“This is where lying would be a very exciting choice for you,” I say. “I’d love to see how far you think you can push my mood today.”
“They’re . . . they’re connected to Boston,” he chokes out. “At least that’s what I heard. A young guy. Trying to prove himself. Said his uncle runs half the port. He handles the rest.”
Boston. We already knew this. I need more before I can bring this to my uncle.
I take a breath, roll my shoulders, and let that settle into place.
“Name,” I say.
He shakes his head frantically. “If I say it, I’m dead.”
“If you don’t say it,” I counter, voice very soft, “you’re dead now. I’m offering you the possibility of later.”
His eyes flutter shut. His chest heaves.
“Connor,” he whispers. “Connor Gallagher.”
I stare at him.
Rafe goes still by the wall.
“Gallagher,” I repeat, voice flat. “As in—”
“His uncle,” the man blurts, panic tipping him into honesty. “Declan. The old man runs the Boston family. Connor’s his nephew. New school. Wants expansion. Wanted to . . . wanted to prove he could cut into Amante’s business without . . . without anyone—said he has someone who knows Amante business.”
He trails off under the weight of my stare.
“Who does he have that knows my family’s business?” I narrow my eyes. This is information I need to know.
His shoulders start to shake. “I don’t know. I swear.”
“What do you know?” I hit him again.
“Only what I was told,” he cries out.
“And that is?”
“They said to hit the warehouse you ran for your uncle, that you were distracted and busy with other problems. Said it was the perfect time to test your borders.”
Rafe growls, “Stupid fucking bastards.”
I toss the hose back into the bag and grip the edge of the chair, leaning down until I’m eye level with the rat.
“So let me get this straight . . .” I grab a knife from the table. “A kid in Boston wants to impress his uncle. He skims our money through you, hits our warehouse, steals our product, and thinks he can spread rumors that I’m too distracted to notice.” I stab his thigh, all while smiling. “Do I look distracted?”
The man shakes his head so fast he looks dizzy. “I didn’t hit the warehouse. I didn’t touch your men. I just—”
I tap the knife against his cheek, silencing him. “Sadly for you, I don’t grade on a curve.”
“Please,” he croaks. “I told you what you wanted.”
“If this is genuinely all you know,” I cut in, “then you aren’t very useful, are you?”
I straighten, rolling the tension out of my neck.
Rafe watches me carefully. “What do you want to do with him?”
I consider the man. He’s shaking so hard the chair vibrates.
“There’s a certain mercy,” I say, “in making sure he doesn’t end up back with the Gallaghers.”