“You see, I wasn’t always a ski instructor. I used to kill people for a living. I was very, very good at it. My skills are slightly rusty, but I’m training up again, Donny. Just for you. Because you really are an inspiration.”
His face was turning red. His breath wheezed through his nostrils as he inhaled around my squeezing fingers.
Was I already breaking my vow? Some would call this violence. And it felt way too good. Making him suffer a little after how he’d treated Keira.
“I know you threatened Deputy Marsh the same night she was shot. I know all about it, Donny. How you were harassing a server. Making a nuisance of yourself. How you told Keira she’d made a big mistake, because you ‘know people. Important people.’”
Phelan shook his head frantically, his eyes bugging out even wider.
I leaned in close so I could murmur in his ear. Just to be sure I got my point across. After all, the key was taking a stand. Right? Making sure this asshole knew his place.
“If I find out you sent those men to hurt her, I’ll destroyyou. I will end you. I’ll go Jack and the Beanstalk on your ass and grind your bones down to bake them into bread. Same thing if you ever bother her again. Am I getting through to you, Donny? Do you catch my drift?”
I lifted my hand from his mouth just enough for him to rasp, “Yes!”
“Do you feel like a Real Man now? Like a king in his castle?”
Donny shook his head slightly, leaking more tears from the pain in his nose.
“Good. I’m glad you’re catching on. The thing is, real men,goodmen, take care of their families and friends. They’re not selfish. They choose forgiveness over cruelty. But guess what, Donny?”
I leaned in one last time.
“I’m not a good man. I’ll break you apart, piece by piece, until there’snothing fucking left.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Keira
I walkeddown the hallway with Natasha just ahead of me. A thick rug muffled our footsteps, swallowing every sound in the oversized corridor.
Ugh, I’d been suffocating in that room listening to Phelan speak. Thank goodness I was out of there.
I was far more curious about his assistant.
“So, do you like working for Mr. Phelan?” I asked Natasha, keeping my tone conversational.
“It’s an excellent position.” She walked with brisk, efficient footsteps, zero inflection in her voice.
“Are you from Hart County?” I tried again.
No answer.
I walked a little faster to pull up beside her. “Are you a fan of The Real Man Formula? I’m curious about your perspective. Since you’re a woman and all.”
“I’m focused on the logistics of Mr. Phelan’s business. He has other people who consult with him on content.”
Okay, then. She wasn’t going to give me any dirt on her employer. Not that I’d really expected it.
There had to be something else I could learn about Phelan in this house. The place was gigantic.
A branch appeared in the hallway to our left, and I started to follow it, curious about what lay down that direction. I thought I heard voices, low and muffled, but couldn’t make out any words.
Natasha’s hand landed on my shoulder. “Not that way,” she said sharply.
Oh, sure. That wasn’t suspicious at all.
She steered me onward. A few seconds later, we stopped at a door halfway down the main corridor. “Here’s the restroom. Go ahead.”
