Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
“I don’t kill people to get rid of them.” He frowns.
The left corner of my mouth lifts in a smirk and he starts fidgeting in place once more, his choice of words, not quite the truth, even if they are when it comes to his “business.” He knows what I’m thinking, and he’s waiting to see if I’ll call him out. Not yet. Instead, I say, “Good thing the person I’m looking for is very much alive then, huh?”
I eye him a moment, running my tongue across my lip, flicking at my lip ring. “Little more than four years ago, someone came to you with a woman. A shit woman who was being forced out of the town she lives in for being the shit she is. I want to know where she went.”
“Let me go and I can take you to my records and we can figure it out.”
“Nah, it ain’t going to work like that.” Slowly, I step back, my eyes moving from one cell to the next and then the last, and I realize something.
“You know, I had a whole plan for how this was going to go. For what I was going to say to you, how I was going to say it and what I was willing to do to get the answers I want. In case you’re wondering, it’s just about anything, but tonight … something happened, and it’s kind of fucking twisted, but now that I really think about it, everything makes sense.” My smile grows, a low laugh leaving me. “I’m not so sure I need you anymore to figure out where this woman is, not when I’m suddenly damn sure someone else does.” I clap, rubbing my palms together. “So let’s skip to the fun part.”
Pulling open the small drawer on the tiny table Hayze placed not far from where Rayo hangs, I take out the file I stuck inside.
“This right here”—I hold up the manila folder, my face blank as I look from Rayo to Otto—“this is the coroner’s file for a case closed eleven years ago. The man who signed off on it was a piece of work … allegedly, of course. Rumor has it he fucked his stepdaughter while she was underage, but when said stepdaughter disappeared in the middle of the night one night, so did his case, but no one knew that ’cause it happened a decade before.” Rayo adjusts his stance, and Otto does all he can to keep his attention pointed forward. “Turned out the last place she was seen was leaving a restaurant on the east side. Imagine my surprise when Hayze here did some digging and found it was owned but later sold by none other than … Otto fucking Henshaw.”
“And so blackmail was born.” Hayze is enjoying this shit as much as me.
“You know what it is?”
Otto’s skin grows a nasty shade of green, his cheeks puffing out as if he’s holding back vomit from spewing out his mouth.
“Yeah, you know what it is.” I drop the file onto the small table and move back into Otto’s cell, stepping in front of him. So close he could reach out and try to choke me, but he’s too much of a bitch for that.
Okay, Rayo, let’s see what you’re made of.
“Tell me what you have on Mr. Revenaw that has forced him to play nice with a weak fucker like you,” I demand of Otto.
He attempts to snap his head left to make eye contact with his “friend,” but my hand darts up, fingers wrapping around his chin in a crushing grip that has him squealing. I squeeze harder, so hard I can feel his teeth shift, veneers probably, and watch as a little bit of blood pools in the creases of his mouth.
“Tell me what you have against this man.”
“I will fucking kill you!” Rayo shouts, yanking against his chains.
Honestly, he could be talking to either of us, but that doesn’t matter. The man in front of me figures he’s dead either way, so he’s only got one option, and that’s to play my game, hoping that if he wins, he gets let out at the end.
“I hid something for him,” he says.
I pause, giving Rayo a chance, but when he says nothing, I push further. “Hid what?”
“Don’t say another word, Henshaw.” Rayo damn near growls at the man.
Getting closer …
I apply more pressure, this time digging the tips of my fingers into the space between his teeth until the skin breaks against the bits of my nails. When he makes no move to speak, I add my other hand to his neck, squeezing against his pressure points just beneath the jawline, and he chokes.
Oliver starts shaking around in his shackles, but I don’t look his way.
“Speak,” I demand.
“He will kill me!” he hisses.