Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
I knew I should leave or, at the very least, wait until they’d all left the area, then head back to my room. Even though there was nothing I could do, and no one at Kiss of Death would let me be a part of whatever they did with this guy, I wanted to know what questions the men would ask and what the Steel Serpent’s answers would be.
I tried to convince myself it concerned me because Iron was looking for me, and whatever this man had been climbing the fence to find was almost certainly me. The other part of the truth, the part I didn’t want to think about, was that I wanted to see Griffin work. He’d been gentle with me so far, but I got the feeling he hid something darker not all that far beneath the surface.
Inferno spoke for the first time. “I reckon he’s done climbin’ for the night.”
“Yep,” Griffin agreed.
The second the two men stepped back, the Serpent sneered at them, likely trying to save face as much as he could. “You don’t fuckin’ scare me. I might not get the bitch, but one of us will.”
Griffin moved before the last word was out. He got a fist in the guy’s hair and drove him down into the gravel face-first. The guy yelped, then grunted as Inferno’s boot came down on the center of his back and stayed there.
Griffin crouched in front of the Steel Serpent. He rested his forearms across his knees. I shrank deeper into the shadow and waited. “Who sent you over the fence, son?”
The guy didn’t answer.
“I’m gonna ask you twice,” Griffin said. “And then I’m gonna stop askin’. Who sent you?”
“Fuck you.” The downed man tried to spit. The angle was wrong and most of it landed in the gravel under his own chin, mixed with the blood from his nose.
I watched the interrogation in the muted glare of the security light as I stayed as still as I could with my arms crossed tightly over my chest. I barely dared to breathe as Griffin crouched in front of the prospect while Inferno kept him pinned.
Griffin straightened from his crouch in one fluid motion and kicked the prospect in the side, connecting with his ribs. Not a kick meant to get the prospect’s attention. No. Griffin meant to rearrange things inside the young man’s body. The sound it made was dense and wet, and the prospect’s whole torso folded around the impact with a grunt. Then he retched, gasping as he seemed unable to form words either through the pain or because he couldn’t breathe.
Again, Griffin kicked him, this time, I heard the unmistakable crack of his ribs snapping under the impact. This time, the prospect found his voice. Blood sprayed from his lips with each long scream as any bravado the young man had evaporated with that second kick.
Griffin crouched again, unhurried. He rested his forearms back on his knees like they’d just paused a conversation. “That’s one,” he said. His tone, though menacing, conveyed disinterest when he looked hyper focused. The contradiction struck me much the same as this Griffin and the Griffin he’d shown me thus far. “I asked who sent you,” Griffin said again, his tone unchanged.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” the man sobbed out his words, obviously not expecting this kind of an attack. “Iron sent me! Iron! He wanted me to confirm the girl was here.” He paused, swallowed. “Said he put a bounty on her! Twenty-five grand to anyone who brings her in!”
“Alive?” Griffin asked.
“Just so long as she’s not dead, he don’t care.” The man gasped. “That’s all I know! I swear to God! I’m just a prospect! Just wanted me to confirm she was here and report back! I wasn’t gonna touch the bitch!”
My breath seized and for a long moment I just knew I was in serious trouble. Twenty-five thousand dollars wasn’t exactly chump change. I studied Griffin without daring to blink for fear I’d miss a subtle cue telling me to get the fuck outta Dodge. I saw nothing in his expression change. Just the same flat attention he had before the prospect mentioned the money.
“How many?” Griffin asked.
“How many what?” The guy sounded strained but his tone was still belligerent.
“How many of you came over the wire tonight.”
“Just me.” The words tumbled from the guy as Griffin tilted his head as if studying him. The prospect tried again. “Just me on the fence,” he clarified. “There’s two more in a truck parked off the access road by the second warehouse on the West side. Waiting on my signal.”
“What signal?”
“Text. Just a fuckin’ text. That’s all. Something saying she’s here, come get her.”
“And if you don’t text?”
The kid’s voice dropped. “They leave. Go back. Tell Iron I fucked it up and got myself caught.”