His lip curls, “He deserved it.”
“Sure,” my head tilts, the predator under my skin finally feeling more at home. Here, in the face of certain death, either mine or his, something wicked in my soul stirs, and I grin, all teeth and condescension. “And I’d bet good money you only got away with it because of Steele.”
His momentary pause is all the answer I need.
“So heownsyour ass,” I chuckle, hanging my head.
“Ben has dirt on half the criminals in the city,” he mutters. “I’m hardly the only one doing his fucking bidding. I mean, that’s whyyou’rehere, isn’t it?”
He’s not wrong.
“So why go after Brigit? She has no part in any of this.” Vengeful, furious ice bleeds into my tone, and he takes it for the threat that it is.
All the color fades from his face. Before he even answers, I can see the lie on his tongue. “That was Steele’s idea.”
“Yeah?” I raise a brow, wishing he would get within striking range so I can fucking end this. All I need is two seconds to have my knife buried in his throat.
“It wasn’t personal,” he offers up like it matters. “You were supposed to die. You were supposed to be dead and Steele was going to discover everything in your house linking you and your partner to the murders. But then neither of those things happened and I had to improvise. We hoped just threatening her would draw you out but it didn’t, we tried tipping off the media so you’d do something crazy and get locked back up, Steele has been trying to bait you into coming here so I can end this forweeks. Nothing else was working, so we did what was necessary.”
I stop the heavy, furious breath that threatens to escape at his slip of the tongue.Hehad to improvise.
“Why Foley? You’re too cowardly to do your own dirty work?” I pry.
Before he can answer, his doorbell rings.
He jumps, and my brows furrow, “Expecting company?”
“Only you,” he responds with a cruel smile.
“Jesse Morrison,” Someone yells from the front door before ringing the bell again. “Mr. Morrison, it’s the police. Detective Benjamin Steele requested back up to this location.”
“Steele?” he mutters to himself, only looking toward the front of the house for a second, peeking out the window.
But that second is more than enough time.
Faster than he can react, I lunge toward him, closing the distance quickly.
With a manic shout, he raises the gun to shoot, but he doesn’t have any experience facing someone head-on when he attacks them, and even though he manages to fire off a shot, it barely grazes my thigh.
It burns like a fucking bitch, but the pain only makes my bloodlust take over, knocking it from his hand and tackling him to the ground, slamming his head against the hardwood with a sickening thunk.
My hands wrap roughly around his neck, and I only distantly register the sound of footsteps approaching as I fight to separate his fucking head from his body.
“Cormac,” Skyler shouts, bringing my attention to him and not the struggling man beneath me.
“I’m a little busy, Sky,” I mutter.
He frantically runs toward us, “Too bad. We need to go.”
I scoff, “This little fucking prick,” I emphasize with a squeeze of his neck so hard he squeaks like a dog toy, “tried to kill Brigit. I’m gonna end him as slowly and painfully as I can.”
“No, you’re not.”
I can’t stop the dark laugh as I look up at my friend, “Why not?”
“Because Steele got into the house,” he says, leaving me frozen on the ground.
“Brigit,” I say aloud the only thing I can even think about.
