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“Can I please have your number? I realized that I don’t have it, and what if—”
I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial her number. Her phone starts to ring, and she lifts an eyebrow.
“Of course you already have my number.”
“And now you have mine. I’ll make sure Spider’s number is programmed in your phone as well. I’m going to ask that you don’t go anywhere without your guards.”
“I won’t,” she assures me. “But Charlie does need to go to school tomorrow.”
We’ll see about that.
“Go get some rest.” I kiss her forehead, her nose, and then her lips, sinking into her. Christ, I can’t get enough of her lips.
“Stay whole,” she replies, making me smirk.
“Yes, ma’am.”
If we were in Vegas, I would have Nico in my cell in the basement of King of Spades, where I have all my tools, it’s soundproofed, and I would work him over for days.
I don’t have that luxury here. I had no idea that I’d need a cell in Portland. My sunshine has been hiding for years with no threat to her or Charlie, so I got comfortable.
And that’ll never fucking happen again.
“I have the tools,” Spider says as Julian and I stare at the house from the back seat of the SUV.
“You know that house isn’t soundproofed,” Julian says. “And we need to make him hurt to get him to talk.”
“I’m going to waterboard him,” I reply as I open the door. “He can’t scream when he’s drowning.”
“Scary motherfucker,” I hear Julian mutter as I saunter my way up the walk to the front door.
“You picked the lock?” I ask Bacon, who’s waiting by the door.
“It’s open,” he confirms, and with a nod, I push inside, my gun in my hand because being unarmed is a stupid fucking mistake, and I don’t make those.
I already know that the bedroom is upstairs, so I head that way with Julian right behind me.
“He lives like a fucking pig,” he mutters.
“And he’s going to die like one,” I reply as I walk down the hallway to the owner’s suite. The door is standing open, and there’s Nico, snoring in the bed.
He’s alone, which is helpful. Less to deal with.
Without trying to be quiet, I stomp over to him, and when his eyes pop open, I grip him by the front of the neck and squeeze.
“You can’t kill him yet,” Julian reminds me, sounding perfectly calm.
“I’m just waking him up.”
I let up on his windpipe, and Nico takes a deep breath as he tries to fight off my grip. But he’s thirty years older, and he’s gone weak. He can’t get away.
“Good morning,” I growl, and all the blood leaves this motherfucker’s face. “I hope you slept well because it was your last.”
I drag him out of the room and down the stairs, not at all careful to avoid hitting his head, to the kitchen, where my men have set up the makeshift cell.
One chair sits in the middle of the room, and I shove him down into it.
“It’s been a while,” Julian says, and it seems that Nico didn’t notice my brother upstairs because his jaw drops, his eyes go wide, and it looks like he might cry.
