“That bartender?”
The word lands like gasoline on a fire.
“She came looking for you,” I say.
“And she found me.”
His tone is casual.
Like we’re discussing a parking ticket.
“You had your men hold her down.”
He shrugs.
“She walked into my warehouse swinging.”
“You split her lip.”
He leans forward on the desk.
“Maybe she should’ve stayed home.”
The room goes very quiet.
I reach across the desk and grab the front of his shirt, dragging him halfway over the metal surface.
Papers scatter to the floor.
“Wrong answer.”
Voss’s grin falters slightly when the knife presses under his jaw.
“You gonna kill me over some girl?” he asks.
“She’s not some girl.”
His eyes narrow.
“Oh?”
I lean closer until he can see exactly how serious I am.
“She’s mine.”
The realization flickers across his face.
“You’re serious.”
“You touched what’s mine,” I say quietly. “That was your first mistake.”
The knife presses harder.
“You had your men hold her down.”
His breathing tightens.
“That was your second.”
