“Tell him before he grabs the crowbar,” Kane warns.
Owen stares at me, his face already a smear of blood and spittle, calculating with whatever scraps of courage he has left. He didn’t know he’d been following what’s mine. That ignorance should count for something. It doesn’t.
I swing again, the wood driving into his gut. He doubles over, bent and heaving. More coughs. More blood. More cries. On the next lift, he shuffles away on one knee.
“Stop!” he cries. “I was just asked to track and trail. That’s all.”
“Whose orders?” Kane asks.
“Tommy. He thinks he can get a hefty ransom for her.”
“Ransom?” I snarl.This fucker thought he couldtakeher?
The idea of her walking into that club alone—unprotected—dressed in red, had already pushed me close to the edge. Butknowing someone could be watching her, waiting for the perfect moment to strike? God, it sends a violent, blinding rage through me.
“Not us,” Owen answers. “Tommy. He’s wired straight into the top tier. Berkeley knows.”
My eyes lift to Kane, hoping he can translate this fucker’s jargon before I truly lose it. But he just stands there with knitted brows and a blank face. Finally, he gives me a cautionary look before he turns to James.
“Take him away. He’s fucking useless.”
James moves to drag Owen out, but I cut in, tossing the bat aside. It clanks against the wall before it drops to the floor.
“You as much as look at her again,” I grab Owen’s collar, shredding the cotton under my fingers, "I’ll claw your fucking eyes out. You hear me?” The confused glances around me tense the air. “A Grant order is a Fort order,” I add, loud enough for the watchful eyes.
And because I can’t fucking take the sight of him anymore, I punch him across the face, crushing his bones and what’s left of my knuckles tonight.
James hauls him off the floor and shoves him out the back. Luka throws me a towel. I take my time wiping the blood off my face and knuckles, making sure I don’t miss any, in case she notices. Then I toss it in the sink and face Kane.
“The fuck was he talking about?”
“The more important question is, what the fuck did you smoke?” he seethes. “Was I not clear with my warning? I needed him to keep tracking her. How else are we going to find Tommy’s source?”
“Find another way,” I snap. “And don’t ask for my help if you can’t stomach it.”
“I’ve got his phone. I’ll find out what I can,” Luka cuts in.
“Find out. la tua fottuta vita dipende da questo”
Your fucking life depends on it.
I warn my cousin in the only language he understands. And I’m not talking about Italian.
“Ma almeno lasciami rinnovare la mia assicurazione sulla vita,” he huffs.
At least let me renew my life insurance.
“Vaffanculo,” I bark.Fuck you.
Luka barks a laugh and leaves, heading to the lounge. As soon as he is out of earshot, Kane’s on me again.
“That was completely unnecessary. We could have made him talk without turning my kitchen into a crime scene.”
“The fucker deserved what he got.”
“Fine.” He tosses a dismissive wave at me. “Go. Fuck off to yourPoker and Pleasure. Clearly, you need more of that to do less of this.” His gaze drags across the chaos smeared across the room.
I snort a laugh. “You coming back to The Barrel?”
