I nod. “Didn’t think so.”
The Vulture president leans back in the chair, metal chains clinking softly as he shifts his weight. He raises his arms and spreads his hands as far as the cuffs let him like he’s got all the time in the world, but the movement is stiff, measured. His shoulders lock instead of relaxing. His jaw works once before he speaks, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek. When he finally looks at me, it’s from under his brow, eyes sharp and searching, like he’s bracing for the inevitable which is his body in an unmarked grave by the end of this shit show.
“What d’you want from me, Savage? And don’t ask me ’bout Veles. I ain’t sayin’ a damn thing.”
His voice roughens, and his words drag. But it’s the hard swallow that tells me he fears the Russian.
As he should be. That fucker is the brother of Ares, the president of the Bratva Savages MC. He’s our friend and the man who fed us every filthy detail about how Veles operates. He will kill without hesitation and do anything it takes to take over his father’s criminal legacy. Then he’ll move on to eliminating Ares and then what? Naturally he’ll come after us. Ruthless, soulless greedy men are never satisfied.
Grudge knows it too. I see it in the way his shoulders tighten, in the way his eyes flick away like he’s expecting death to step out of the shadows. He’s not afraid of me.
He’s afraid of what Veles would do to him if he talks.
I tilt my head and silently study him like a puzzle that already bores me. “You’re wrong. You’re gonna tell me everything I want to know, eventually. You want to stay alive, start making it worth our while to keep you alive. Where do we find Veles? Tell us. Or we give you a proper Bayou burial.”
He smirks, confidence bleeding back into his expression. “You think I’m scared’a you?”
I lift a single shoulder. “Nah,” I say honestly. “But I think you fear what happens when you stop being useful to us and we let Veles know where to pick you up. Think Veles will believe you didn’t tell us every dirty detail we wanted to know?” I tap the book between us. “You tell us, or we go fishing and we use you as bait. Sounds fun and I’m bored.”
His eyes flick down to the book again, then back up.
Damn, I love the way fear crawls over his ragged expression.
“You got some names. Congratulations.” He gives a short, humorless huff, shifts in the chair like the chains are suddenly too tight. “But if you think you’ve won, you’re already behind.”
His jaw works before he goes on, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek. “Veles got the same book. Carbon copy.”
A long pause carries on between us as he considers me from across the table.
“Whered’you think my VP lifted all that dirt from? Blackmail is king. You got leverage, you got all you need. I ain’t stupid.”
Grudge shrugs, but it’s stiff and comes off as forced.
“One little sleight of hand, that’s all. Tilted the scale back my way.” His eyes flick to Phantom standing silently behind me and then back to me. “Ain’t nobody ever gonna have the upper hand on me.”
Then his voice drops. “’Sides… that man ain’t sentimental.” His voice is raw and gritty. His throat works another hard swallow. “He’ll off every last name in there ‘fore you can squeeze another damn secret outta ’em. Mark my words. Your detective friend’ll be draggin’ bodies outta the Bayou for Christmas.”
I lean back in my chair and prop a foot on my knee. “Nobody gets an upper hand on you, huh?” I let the smirk on my lips stay in place as I continue. “And yet here you sit, Grudge. Your crew is being run by their new president and Veles is just waiting for you to pop back up so he can end you. You're nothing but a loose end to him now.”
Silence is all I get back.
I grab the book. “Nothing? Okay then. Let’s check the book for who we can expect to be gator bait first. It should be fun to see the kill list. Can’t say I’ll miss any of the fuckers in here.”
I flip the book open, my fingers moving automatically, scanning lines and names I already half-know. Yada-yada. Dirty politician. Dirty club owner. Dirty beat cop…nothing new.
“Fun, huh?” There’s a dark glitter to Grudge's eyes that gives me pause when I look up from the book.
He gestures to the book. “You might wanna look twice, Savage.”
I flip the page and my eyes catch on a name near the top of the list.
Motherfucker.
A slow, cold dread settles under my skin, rooting itself deep in my chest. Every instinct I have screams to cross the room and bury a blade in Grudge’s chest, to spill his secrets right here and now. But my pulse never gives me away. My expression stays smooth, even as a storm rips through me.
I read the name again.
Agent Harlow Montgomery.
