Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
A rag stuffed in his mouth, hands tied behind his back. I think about the girl on the video Mason showed me, Crystal, and try not to feel pity for this kid. But it’s difficult. I doubt he’s the shot caller.
Rafe leans against the wall, stubbing his cigarette out on the back of his hand. It’s an old intimidation tactic, and it works. The kid shivers.
I approach him, taking my gun from my waistband. If I’m going to do this, I have to play my part as well as I can, even if it sickens me.
“When I remove this gag, you’re not going to scream, are you?” I grunt.
He shakes his head.
“That would be a very bad idea,” I go on. “I’ve got no desire to hurt you, kid, honestly. I can’t say the same for my friend, however.”
Good cop – bad cop. It’s a cliché, for a reason. It works.
He shakes his head even more vigorously.
I unknot the back of the gag and then let it fall to the floor. He gasps, dribbling spit rolls down his chin.
When I place the gun against his jaw and he flinches, I derive no pleasure from the act. That was one of the many reasons I left this life behind. Too many sadists, too many men who enjoyed the control and domination.
Isn’t that what I’m doing with Evie – controlling her, dominating her?
I try to push the thought away, try to convince myself it isn’t as simple as that. I’m saving her, too.
Does that make it better?
“I understand you were involved in some arson today,” I say.
The kid shivers, making a squeaking noise of fear that has me feeling like a bully.
“Let’s start with your name.”
Nothing.
“Your boss and I had a deal, kid. He’s three days early. Why did he jump the gun?”
He bites down, tears springing to his eyes and sliding over his cheeks, shaking his head as he trembles.
I sigh, then return to Rafe, leaning in and lowering my voice. “Scare him, but don’t physically hurt him.”
“I might have to if scaring him doesn’t work.”
“I’m not my father,” I growl.
“Your father would already have the answers he wants.”
“Don’t push me, Rafe. I brought you in to do things my way.”
“Your way, while it might help you sleep at night, isn’t what I’d call optimal, Dom.”
“Who said I sleep at night? Just do it.”
I lean against the wall, and Rafe sighs, lighting another cigarette. He kneels beside the young man – thinking of him as a kid is messing with my head; he looks at least eighteen, not that it makes it any better – and slowly brings the lit cigarette toward his face.
The man squirms away. Rafe holds the cigarette an inch away, looking at me with his eyebrow raised, as if waiting for me to give the order.
“Bobby,” the kid whimpers. “My name is Bobby.”
“That’s a start,” I say.
“Now, tell me why your boss couldn’t wait.”
“We–uh, not me, some of the guys… please.”
“Rafe,” I say, and Rafe pulls away but only slightly.
“He might stop singing without the proper motivation.”
“Rafe.”
Rafe stands, taking a drag from his cigarette.
I approach Bobby. “I will not ask anything twice now, you understand?”
“Yuh-yes.”
“Go on…”
“Some of the guys were getting restless. We’re shitting in buckets. Mason says we’re ‘doing it like the Army’, but we don’t want to live like that. Some higher-ups decided to rush things along. They thought they could scare you into coughing up the cash.”
“Are they aware of who I am?”
“Mason and a few of the others told them it was madness, but they wouldn’t listen.”
Rafe snorts. “The Vultures against the mob. Oh, I wonder who will win.” His voice is laced with sarcasm.
“If I brought you a map, would you be able to point out where The Vultures are hiding?”
He nods. “What happens to me after?”
I know what Rafe would do if I weren’t here. If a man dared to burn down a mob asset, he’d make an example of him.
“I turn you over to the cops. They’ll try to make you testify against The Vultures, most likely, but that’s up to you. Otherwise, you’ll do your time, maybe make something of your life, maybe not. That’s not my problem. Rafe – get me a map.”
Rafe leaves the room. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I return to the wall, lean against it. It’s a text from my Keepsake, driving home the importance of what we’re doing here, though it makes me feel sour, wrong somehow, like I’m moving backward.
Evie: If a certain girl was going to make a certain man a piece of jewelry to say thank you for a certain studio, what would she make?
It’s strange to smile in a situation like this, but that’s what Evie does to me.
Dom: What if a certain man told a certain girl he doesn’t wear jewelry?