I slam my shoulder into his chest, ramming him into the wall. Kieren lets out a soft grunt of pain and reaches for something in his jeans, but he’s way too slow. That should’ve been his first move. Instead, I get my gun shoved against his belly, jamming the barrel in tight so he keeps it.
“Don’t fight. Don’t scream. I’ll gut shoot you, and you won’t die, not for a while anyway. I’ll still have plenty of time to talk to you.”
He’s breathing hard, his face shiny with sweat. “What the fuck do you want?”
“A conversation, that’s all. Come on, Kieren, we can be civil.”
Now the panic sets in. He’s probably trying to weigh how far I’ll take this. He’s maybe thinking I won’t pull the trigger, but he’s wrong there. I’ll shoot him, the noise be damned. This bar might be in Baranov territory—a calculated risk to make sure he really showed up and wasn’t on guard—but it’s not technically a Bratva establishment. I can’t guarantee there aren’t any soldiers here, but I doubt it.
He’s doing that same math right now, and he’s not liking the outcome.
When he says nothing, I jab him with the gun and tug him by the collar. “This way.” We walk together, him stumbling ahead, my gun against the small of his back near his spine. “You ever see someone get their vertebrae blown off? Real nasty shit. This low, your arms might still work, but your dick will be cold and dead. How will Vera feel about that?”
Again, he says nothing, which is the right play. I feel grudging respect as I shove out a side door and kick him into a dirty alley. Another reason I chose this spot: easy access to a tight, dark, relatively private space with a connection to an outside street.
Kieren leans against the wall, breathing hard. I keep my gun trained on him. His hands stay up.
“See, this isn’t so bad, right? This doesn’t have to get ugly. We need to talk.”
“What the fuck do you want from me?” His eyes dart to the entrance, but it’s too far for him to run. He’d never make it before I blew out his knees.
“I want to know why you fucked that Russian girl in Regan’s bed.”
His mouth twitches. He grimaces, eyes locked on mine. “What the fuck do you care about that for?”
“Regan cares. I’m only curious. Why’d you do it? Are you really that stupid?"
“I guess so.” He sneers at me. “I know you married her. Is she still heartbroken? Does she still talk about me? Regan was fucking mine first?—“
I crack him across the teeth with the barrel of the gun. I do it hard, lashing out. It’s not smart, since I need him conscious andtalking, but fuck it feels good. He groans, toppling sideways. I kneel on his side, pinning him against the nasty ground, and pluck the gun from his waistband. I make sure he’s watching when I throw it into a nearby dumpster.
“Don’t talk about Regan like that again. She was never yours. You were never good enough for her. Do you understand me?”
“We were together… for a long time…”
“And you threw all that shit away the second you took another woman in your bed. Stupid mother fucker. You really think that Baranov girl is half the woman Regan is?”
“Regan’s a little child… can’t grow up…”
I hit him again. He moans and spits blood. “Who helped you steal from Regan’s father?”
He looks dazed. “What the fuck?”
“Who helped you, Kieren? Don’t tell me you’re smart enough to do it yourself, because you’re not. I’ve been watching you. I haven’t moved on you until now because I thought you were hiding something. Now I realize what it is. You had help.”
“No. I didn’t.”
“You’re lying to me. I really don’t like lying.” I hit him twice, relishing the crack of his skin against my fist. I don’t normally enjoy torture like this, but hurting Kieren is deeply satisfying. I only wish Regan were here to see it too.
He moans, head lolling. I grab his hair, yank it back, and jam the barrel of my gun into his throat.
“Who helped you?” I press, whispering harshly.
“I don’t… nobody…”
“If nobody helped then you’re fucking worthless to me.” I press the gun harder. “Give me a reason not to end you now.”
“Wait!” His eyes widen in terror. The bastard’s been holding up better than I expected until right now. “No… you don’t have to…”
