“Last weekend. It was… unexpected. I mean, I haven’t seen you in years, then to see you like that… I was shocked and caught off guard. I hardly had a moment to process what was going on, who it was going on with. I mean, it was sensory overload in there, an overstimulation nightmare really, and I?—”
“Peaches,” he cuts off my speed-rambling tersely before giving me a look. “Your point?”
I take a breath then continue, much slower this time. “My point is… What would you say if I told you that I liked it? Last weekend. What would happen if I told you I wanted it to happen again?”
Something like surprise flashes in his eyes for a moment before a soft smile curves his face. Slowly, he lowers himself to me so our faces are only inches apart, his next words whispered against my lips.
“What would you say if I told you I’d forgot all about it?”
Shock reverberates through me at his words; at the cold, callous tone that matches his impassive expression.
He pulls away, straightening once more, then turns and heads for the kitchen with the plates.
It’s as if I can feel my heart cracking in my chest, so I have no choice but to run upstairs and hide in humiliation.
Chapter Eight
Kolter
“Where’s the shipment coming in to?” I ask before my fist lands, snapping the guy’s head to the side.
My knuckles burn—a few of them have split open from the impact of my blows. I’m doing a hell of a lot better than this guy, though. Blood covers nearly every inch of his face, his head lolling on his shoulders like a wet mop as he babbles incoherently.
I grab hold of his sweat-and-blood-soaked hair and yank his head backward so he’s forced to look at me. “Tell me where the fucking shipment is coming in and you’ll be home by dinner,” I snarl.
The guy is a low-level soldier of the Volkov family, the Russian bratva around this area, and our number one pain in the fucking ass. They steal our shit; we take theirs. They claim territory; we gut them like pigs and take what’s owed to us. There are a few other motorcycle clubs around the Seattle area, but we’ve been here the longest. This is our city, and no one, especially not some little Russian punk, is gonna get in the way of that. So, yet again, I’m asking where the fuck their coke shipment is landing. They’ve intercepted our last two shipments, so an eye for an eye and all that shit.
“If I don’t tell you, I won’t go home,” he wheezes in a thick Russian accent. “And if I tell, I won’t go home.”
A smile curves my mouth as I pull his head back even further, making sure he’s able to see every glimmer of violence coming his way. Seems to work too—the guy blanches beneath the blood covering his face before swallowing roughly.
“You’re a smart kid.”
His breathing is ragged, but I can hear a definite wheeze. Could be a collapsed lung. Apparently, he fought pretty hard when we scooped him off the street. I wasn’t part of that, though—I’m just here to handle the questioning.
Ace and Brick are leaning against the warehouse wall, bullshitting and smoking cigarettes while I do all the heavy lifting. But I can tell this kid isn’t ready to talk yet, so he can be their fucking problem until he softens up.
I step away from him and move over to my bag of goodies, rifling through until I pull out two nine-inch knives. I admire them as they glint in the setting sunlight then look back at the bratva brat.
“You sure you’re not up for a chat?” I ask.
He watches me hesitantly but stays silent.
I admire that. It’s the only way to stay alive in this world. You don’t narc, ever. You get kidnapped by the enemy, you’re basically already dead. And if you do escape and they find out you narced, you’re gonna wish the enemy had killed you.
I shrug then bury the knives into his thighs. He lets out an ear-piercing shriek that reverberates through the warehouse. Thank fuck we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere right now.
He howls and whimpers, fighting against his restraints as I watch. I shake my head. If he’d stop moving, it wouldn’t hurt so much. Fucking pussy.
Okay, maybe that’s a lie. I sank those fuckers all the way through. Still.
I turn away from the whimpering mess in the chair and head for the door.
Brick nods to me as Ace gestures towards the guy. “What do you want us to do with him?”
“Take turns watching him. He needs some time to think on how loyal he wants to be to his ‘family.’ I’ll be back in the morning.”
Ace nods then turns to Brick. “I’ll catch second shift,” he says before heading out the door with me.