Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
“This way, angel,” I tell Malta, ushering her out the back door and forcing Brian to go with us. Right now we’re his safest option, and he might be more useful alive than dead. “Follow Roxie, she knows the way to my car.”
“I’ve told you everything I know. Please, no, don’t!” He winces as I step forward, then screams at the top of his lungs when I poke his shoulder. The bullet is still lodged deep, and I know from experience that the pain is excruciating. He deserves worse than that but it’s just pain. He’ll survive this, so long as he tells me what he knows. “Malta, please! Tell him!”
“She’s not here. Just you and me. So you’d best start talking.”
We’re ensconced in the basement of my house, and Malta actually is still upstairs, being comforted by Roxie. I had to persuade her to trust me on how to deal with this, and she’s not happy about it, but I know this world better than she does. The courts might know how to deal with him if and when we let the cops know about his extracurriculars, but for now we need information.
“I can’t tell you. I can’t…”
He looks at me pleadingly, and I step forward, ready to inflict some more pain. He tries to move away, but the bonds have him held tight to the wooden seat, which is bolted to the floor for just this reason.
“All I know is that they’re called the McKenzies! That’s it! They’re from New York but there was some sort of power struggle a couple of years ago. Two brothers. The one who came out on top moved the operation here. Robert McKenzie. I never even met him.”
That name… I try to stay cool, to not reveal that it means something to me. “Is he in charge?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know! He’s all anyone talks about. Do it or Robert will be upset. McKenzie said he needs the information by tomorrow.”
So far, I don’t have much, but this is a development.
Brian doesn’t seem to know why they were so interested in recruiting Malta, or why if he couldn’t get her on board they were going to kill her. It’s an extreme measure. Killing innocent civilians is messy, especially when they’re connected even tangentially to law enforcement, like a lawyer. The Volos family hasn’t sanctioned a hit on an innocent in my lifetime, and the one occasion I know it happened without permission, the guy responsible permanently disappeared within a week, and the family of the victim still receives regular payments now.
If you’re not in the game, you’re not a legitimate target. It’s as simple as that.
The worst thing is, I’ve heard the name McKenzie before. Only once, but it’s enough. A few months ago, there was an attack on my father’s casino. The feds couldn’t pin it on anyone, but the Volos family was able to track down one of the attackers. I interrogated him myself and thought I’d got nothing before we fitted him for concrete shoes. Turns out, I’m left wishing he was still alive.
Because one thing he muttered when he was writhing on the floor, begging for his life, was McKenzie—speak to McKenzie.
“What were you afraid of? What did they threaten you with?”
“What the fuck do you think? They were going to kill me!”
I put my hand on his shoulder. I don’t even have to squeeze this time because the anticipation of pain is worse.
“All right! All right! They said they’d send it all to the D.A., everything they have on me. Every fucking dirty thing I’ve done for them…” He’s starting to sob, and I don’t want to break the guy. He’s pathetic, but he might still be useful.
I take my hand away. “We’re going to take a break.”
“Can I go?”
“No.” I grab a bottle of water from the pile behind me, open it and put it to his lips. “Right now, you’re safer here than at home. Trust me.”
He takes a long gulp of the cool liquid. “I need a doctor, man.” Another gulp. “I’m dying. I don’t want to die.”
“Then you’d better think fucking hard about what you do know. When I get back, if you tell me everything. And I mean everything. But if you do that, I’ll see about getting you a doctor.”
I take the bottle away, replace the cap and walk to the stairs. I consider turning the lights off. Sometimes darkness can have a useful effect on subjects, but I think in this case it’s better to leave the lights on. He knows I’m coming back, and he knows he’s trapped, but it’s a fine line between a healthy level of fear and the kind of terror that shuts down all the logic centers of the brain.
When I step out into the kitchen, Malta is there waiting for me.