“How would I know?” he growled, sitting up straighter. “It wasn’t me, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Piercing him with a stare, I took in his tight features and rigid posture. He definitely knew something. And I had just the thing to entice him to share with me. “If you tell me what you know, I’ll give you the east district.”
His features evened out, and I knew I had him. He’d been after more territory for a long time, and I’d given him some when we negotiated last time. He thought I was an idiot for giving up our territory so easily.
But I didn’t make mistakes. Certainly not twice. He’d always been an arrogant prick. Thinking he was untouchable. Thinking he knew better than everyone else. And I knew how to work it to my advantage.
“I don’t know who shot your da. But you made a lot of enemies taking out Garret. Any one of them could have done it.”
I ground my teeth, thinking it might be worth the trouble if I punched him. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. And Garret was a cockroach who needed to be put down.”
Cian huffed, and the Hannibal Lecter look-alike stepped forward, the muscles in his neck bulging. The movement caused Cian to get up, holding his hand up. “Calm down.”
Gabriel stepped up next to me, his hand hovering over his gun.
The tension in the room kept climbing. “I think we’re done here. You obviously don’t know shit, and I’m done wasting my time.”
Cian shot a look at Hannibal and stood up. “I don’t know where it came from, but someone put a hit out on your da. One million for a kill shot. I heard there’s been a lot of interest.”
I stilled. Who in their right mind would order a hit on the head of my family? And why hadn’t I heard about this before now? “And you’re only telling me this now?” I growled the words, my beast fighting to break free and kill something.
He shrugged, looking entirely too unperturbed. “Why would I tell you? We’re not exactly pen pals.”
Forcing steady breaths into my lungs, I calmed myself enough to talk. “Who put out the hit?”
“How would I know? I didn’t take the job.”
Scraping together the last dregs of my patience, I asked another question. “Where was it posted?”
“Pussycat.”
I cursed at the mention of the strip club. It was a front for a range of other businesses. I avoided going there as much as possible. It was a cesspit, one I couldn’t show my face at after having had a disagreement with the owner a few years ago that ended with me taking his club apart.
I would send Jude to talk to him. He could charm a rock into changing color.
“Anything else you failed to mention?”
Cian smirked at me. “Nah. Not this time.”
“Fuck you.”
I turned to walk out, and he called after me. “You’re welcome. And I’ll be moving into the east district tomorrow, so you better make sure you’re gone.”
Giving him the finger over my shoulder, I left.
Getting back into the limo we’d taken, I exhaled. The information was only a small piece of the puzzle. I didn’t know anyone who would be ballsy enough to put out a hit on a member of my family.
Pouring myself a glass of scotch, I leaned back into the leather seat. Gabriel punched the door, his face a mask of barely contained fury.
“Why the hell did you give him more ground? I didn’t understand it the first time you did it, and I understand it even less now. He wants to take over, and you’re playing right into his hands.” He shouted the last few words.
The burn of the scotch traveled down my throat and into my stomach. “Do you think I’d willingly give Cian anything?”
Gabriel studied me, a grin spreading over his face. “You have a plan.”
Pouring him a glass, I nodded. “I have a plan.”
He relaxed back into the seat, taking a hefty gulp of the $600-a-bottle drink I’d handed him. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense. Talk.”
