Eventually, I pause, breathing hard as I prepare for another barrage with the hammer. The broken sobs that shake Greer stir no pity in me. He made his choice when he threw in with Dallas during that coup months back. And maybe if I had Dallas, the mastermind behind that plot, chained to a petal peg in this warehouse, I would have ended Greer quickly for his part in all of it. But Kase Cruz blew a hole out the back of Dallas' head, robbing me the chance of exacting my vengeance. Yet another thing that Cruz's family stole from me, I reflect bitterly.
I cock my head to one side, peering over my shoulder at the diminutive figure perched on top of the packing crates nearby.
"It almost looks like you're getting off on this," I remark dryly, meeting the eyes of the Hellions' newest representative.
Avis Harding's smile is a sharp little thing. Copper waves have been pulled back away from her face in a short tail that gathers at the base of her neck. Her hazel eyes regard the broken figure on the floor with amusement. The overall impression she gives off is a vulpine temptress, clad in dark leather. Maybe Kolton thinks sending a woman to parley with me will increase his chances of securing the Kings as his allies.
"I am," Avis admits with a little shrug. "I love it when I see a man get what's coming to him. Not sure how much longer this one will last, though."
She gestures vaguely at Greer. He's in bad shape. There's barely a bone unbroken, and dark blood pools beneath his skin. She's right that he's on his way out. If I wanted to keep him alive, I could. I know how to draw this out over months if I have to. Years, if I'm careful. But Greer's a shabby stand-in for the people I want to kill, and I'm quickly losing interest in torturing him.
Avis' thighs rub together, and she touches her top lip lightly with the tip of her tongue. She is getting turned on by this. It would take no effort at all to drag her to a pile of pallets and fuck her within earshot of Greer. I consider it for a nanosecond. Fucking and fighting are the only things that can distract me from my fury for more than a few minutes.
But I'm not an imbecile. Fucking Avis Harding isn't worth what that act would cost.
Kolton is hoping I'm rock stupid enough to think with my cock. That a pretty face and the pussy attached to the bearer will make me weak enough to be led around like an obedient pup on a leash. That perceived weakness led a quarter of the men in King territory to follow one of my lieutenants, Antony Dallas, in an attempted takeover. And it had ultimately cost me the one thing I still cared about most in the world.
Thoughts of my daughter steel me once more, and I feel the pressing urgency to be inside Harding recede. It's fucking ridiculous to want her, anyway. If Kolton wants to appeal to me, he should send a spunky brunette instead.
"End him if you like," I say, jerking a thumb at Greer. "I'm going to head back."
Avis purses her lips, as though that wasn't what she wanted to hear. "I can't stick around long. Kolton will want your answer."
"It hasn't changed from last time," I tell her, turning to walk away. Greer is trying to form a plea through a mouthful of blood. "Tell him I'm still thinking about it."
Avis’ sigh trails behind me like the wind. "Fine. But he won't be happy."
Like I give a damn what makes Kolton happy.
I reach the doors and wrench them open just as Avis' shot cuts Greer's moans off.
* * *
I still haven't decided an hour later.
I don't for one second think the Hellions are sincere in their desire to share the territory once they've eliminated the Sleepless Spades. Things will quickly settle back into the way they've always been, with two warring factions toeing a boundary line that keeps the city from devolving into all-out anarchy.
The question boils down to if I put trust in the devil I didn't know, to eliminate the one I do. A year ago, the answer would have been an immediate fuck no. It's infinitely easier to exploit the Spades because I know all their petty little foibles. The Spades' ridiculous moral code hamstrings them at every turn. The Hellions have no such compunctions and will be harder to deal with if the time ever comes.
But the Hellions used to be Spades. And the knowledge they have to barter makes the deal more compelling than it should be. I make one phone call to Kolton, and I'll have a veritable cornucopia of information at my disposal. Such as where to best find and corner Roman Cruz. He's not the Cruz brother I want at the moment, but he'll do. Killing him would draw Kase out of hiding and ensure I get to take my time with the remaining twin. If I'm exceedingly lucky, he might bring Brooklyn with him, and I'll be able to see my daughter again.
I unfold the picture in my lap to peer down at it again. The grainy black and white still shows a small body floating in utero.
I hate that some part of them took root in her. That my grandchild shares blood with the people I despise most in this world.
I snort once. Grandfather. It doesn't seem possible. I'm barely forty-six, and it's impossible to tell at a glance I'm squinting hard at fifty. Rigorous lifestyle and good genetics mean I look nowhere close to my actual age.
If I kill Kase Cruz, Brooklyn will never forgive me. But part of me just doesn't give a damn. I'm sick and fucking tired of having things stripped away from me. It's about damn time that the Cruz family suffers for their collective sins.
I fold the photo closed again and reached for my phone. I've about decided when the damn thing rings, startling me so much I jump. It's been too fucking long since something has startled me. When I check the number, I realize I'm overreacting. Because I know this number too damn well by now.
It's Malick on the other end. My new second is over-correcting, trying his damndest to make sure I know he's trustworthy, so he doesn't meet the same fate as Dallas or Greer. As a result, I get daily reports about the minutiae of the day-to-day operations of the Calamity Kings I don't need. I've told him to call only me if there's a problem.
I consider letting it go to voicemail. I'm not in the mood to listen to a laundry list of what they have accomplished today. But I reconsider at the last second. I can always hang up on him if this is a false alarm.
"You there, boss?" Malick asks.
"What do you want?" If this is another report, I will kill him.
