He trails off under the weight of my stare.
“Who does he have that knows my family’s business?” I narrow my eyes. This is information I need to know.
His shoulders start to shake. “I don’t know. I swear.”
“What do you know?” I hit him again.
“Only what I was told,” he cries out.
“And that is?”
“They said to hit the warehouse you ran for your uncle, that you were distracted and busy with other problems. Said it was the perfect time to test your borders.”
Rafe growls, “Stupid fucking bastards.”
I toss the hose back into the bag and grip the edge of the chair, leaning down until I’m eye level with the rat.
“So let me get this straight . . .” I grab a knife from the table. “A kid in Boston wants to impress his uncle. He skims our money through you, hits our warehouse, steals our product, and thinks he can spread rumors that I’m too distracted to notice.” I stab his thigh, all while smiling. “Do I look distracted?”
The man shakes his head so fast he looks dizzy. “I didn’t hit the warehouse. I didn’t touch your men. I just—”
I tap the knife against his cheek, silencing him. “Sadly for you, I don’t grade on a curve.”
“Please,” he croaks. “I told you what you wanted.”
“If this is genuinely all you know,” I cut in, “then you aren’t very useful, are you?”
I straighten, rolling the tension out of my neck.
Rafe watches me carefully. “What do you want to do with him?”
I consider the man. He’s shaking so hard the chair vibrates.
“There’s a certain mercy,” I say, “in making sure he doesn’t end up back with the Gallaghers.”
His eyes go impossibly wider. “No—please—”
I look at Rafe. “Get whatever else you can out of him. Cross-check what he said. If it all lines up . . .” I glance back at him. “Make it quick. He did talk, after all, so no reason to torture him . . . too much.”
Relief and terror cross his face in the same breath.
Rafe nods once. “You got it.”
I step away, dropping the knife on the table before wiping my hands on my jeans.
As I reach the door to leave, the man croaks, “You’re going after them.”
I pause, looking back. “What do you think?” I ask.
His throat works. “They’re not ready for you.”
I grin, dark and sharp. “No one ever is.”
I step into the hall with Rafe on my heels.
He stays quiet until we clear the threshold into the main warehouse. “You want to loop Matteo in?”
The question hits like a warning shot.
