“Got info.”
“So, tell me.”
Razor glanced around, checking out the row of shrubs and the empty gravel driveway.
“I’ll pass it on, you know I will.”
“Yeah, for a cop you’re okay, Mitch.” He folded his arms, and his nostrils flared.
“Thanks for the compliment.” I gave a tight laugh. “So? What you got?”
“When I was inside, my cellmate, he was a total twat, fucking scumbag asshole.”
“And?”
“And he was also one hell of a fucking showoff. Always going on about what he’d got away with and the women he’d had.”
“He was some kind of stud, huh?”
“Huh, he had no fucking teeth and wart on his nose big enough to land a plane on.”
“Nice.”
“This one time.” Razor lowered his head. “He got into one, started going on about these women he’d bought from Kosovo.”
“Go on.” My hearing seemed to intensify, and I resisted the urge to lean in.
“Got them from some English guy who had a warehouse full of women, apparently you could take your pick. Tall, short, big tits, blonde muff, black muff, shaved muff, whatever got your dick hard.”
“And you know who this guy is? With the warehouse?”
“No, how would I?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“No, why would he? All he wanted to do was go on about these women he’d bought from him and then kept prisoner for six months. Fucked them whenever he wanted. Had his mates round for ass-fucking parties and let them all have a go at these poor girls until they passed out and their asses were totally fucked up.”
Anger gripped my belly, and a familiar need for vengeance burned in my soul. “Why did he go inside? This cellmate of yours.”
“Drink driving, nothing to do with the sick things he did to these women.”
“He still in?”
“No, he got out last month.” Razor grimaced. “I want him dead.”
Sounded like a plan to me.
“So why didn’t you take the opportunity when you were inside?” I asked.
“He wasn’t worth adding to my time for.”
“I take your point.” I nodded.
“So you can do it?” Razor snorted then spat on the ground.
“You think we’re hitmen to hire?”
“Aren’t you?”
