“You think I’m scared of you?”
“I think”—he stepped closer—“that you have an inflated view of your safety. You see, my friends and I have done things that you couldn’t even imagine. Found people no one else in the world could find. Ended people who should have been bulletproof with a single gunshot to the head.”
Gerome’s eyes flared.
“And last night, someone set fire to our workplace. That fire could have hurt someone. If it wasn’t you who set it, you have nothing to worry about. But if it was… Well, that’s not a place you want to be.”
Gerome swallowed. “I was at a friend’s house.”
“Which friend?”
“Pen.”
“Pull up your phone.”
Gerome’s eyes narrowed, but when Ethan stepped closer again, so close he couldn’t move without touching the guy,Gerome must have sensed the danger, because he pulled his phone from his pocket.
“Call him,” Ethan said quietly. “But say one word and you won’t like what happens.”
There was a second of hesitation before Gerome’s jaw clicked and he scrolled through and found his friend’s number.
The guy answered immediately. “Gerome, buddy, I’m on my way to the shop now.”
Ethan took the cell. “Pen.”
There were a few seconds of silence. “Who are you?”
“Doesn’t matter. Where were you last night?”
Another pause. “Last night? What the fuck’s going on?”
“What’s going on is that you have five seconds to tell me where you were last night, or your friend Gerome here might find himself in an uncomfortable position.”
“Gerome, you there?”
“You’re talking tomeright now, Pen, and you have three seconds left.”
Another pause.
“Two. One?—”
“I was at Gerome’s house.”
Ethan hung up and turned to Gerome, who was now holding up his hands.
“I meant to say he was at my place. I?—”
Ethan grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him against the wall. “I’m only going to say this once. I don’t like repeating myself, and I find actions have more impact anyway. Ward won’t arrest you, we both know that. But you ever pull shit like that again, and it doesn’t matterwhoyour father is, he could be President of the United States—I…will…murder you. And they won’t find so much as your little toe. You understand?”
Real fear shone in the guy’s eyes, but eventually, he nodded.
“Good.” Ethan shoved the phone back into Gerome’s hand before heading toward the door. But before stepping out, he turned. “And you might want to hurry up and do something with this place before I do some digging into what’s really going on here. Because trust me, I’m good at finding information people want to keep hidden.”
Then he stepped outside to find Joel pulling in behind his truck.
“What are you doing here?” Ethan asked.
“Making sure you don’t get your ass put in prison.”
