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The man's head jerks up, only one eye staring at me due to the other one being swollen shut. I don't say anything at first, only taking my watch off and placing it on the metal table a few feet from me.
"I have nothing to say to you," the man spat, spitting at my feet.
I nod. "You'll change your mind soon enough." And he will. They always do.
I don't waste time going back and forth with him, as time isn't on my side. Instead, I move over to the wooden wardrobe closet that's outfitted with different small weapons and devices meant for torturing people. After glancing over my options, I settle on the cattle prod before moving back to him, sitting on the edge of the tine.
"We can make this easy, or this can be hard for you," I start, pressing the button on the cattle prod as I hold it in front of me. "Do you want to tell me everything you know, or am I going to have to shock it out of you?"
"Go to hell," he growls.
"Suit yourself," I say with a shrug before I press the cattle prod into his thigh. He screams so loud that my ears ring for a moment, a string of curse words flying from his mouth.
"You stupid son of a bitch!" he bellows. "Let me out of this fucking chair, and we'll see how much of a big man you are. I can crush you!"
"I'm the only one with an actual weapon in here," I muse with a grin and thumb over my shoulder to the wardrobe. "And without a code, you can't get into that closet to get a weapon. You're still at a complete disadvantage whether you’re loose or not."
"Then let me out of the chair, and we'll see," he sneers.
I tap my chin as I pretend to think before shaking my head. "Nah," I taunt as I poke him with the cattle prod again on his side.
"Fucking Christ!" he exclaims when he stops screaming long enough to form words.
"Christ can't help you, but giving me the answers I'm after just might." I stand to my feet and take a few steps closer. "Why were you at the Thomsons' house last night?"
"I'm not telling you shit, you fucking?—"
I don't let him finish his sentence, poking him yet again with the cattle prod and holding it there longer than usual. Drool drips from his mouth as his head bows, ragged pants leaving him as he struggles to catch his breath.
"Why were you at the Thomsons' house last night?" I ask again. I raise the cattle prod again to prepare to shock him once more. He jerks backward in his seat, trying to get away from the electric end of the prod.
"Fuck! Okay! Okay! I'll tell you! Just stop with the shocking!" the man pleads. I lower the cattle prod just a little, but I don't lower it completely.
"I'm listening," I state.
He sucks in a deep breath. "We were there to finish the job," he starts. "The boss said something was going on with the original hit, something about the hitman claiming thatsomething was wrong. So he sent us there to take both her and her father out and make it look like a home invasion."
Anger tightens my muscles. The news isn't surprising. I knew it was only a matter of time before someone else either tried to take her out themselves or the hit be reassigned within The Hotel if Natalie found something incriminating against Morgan. I swallow the ball of anger threatening to lodge its way into my throat.
"Who is your boss?" When he doesn't answer immediately, I take a step forward to prepare to poke him yet again.
"The Chernakov Bratva!" he answers quickly. I frown as I let the information settle, even more questions coming up. What in the world does a Russian mob want with a nineteen-year-old girl? Morgan doesn't seem as if she has any kind of ties to any criminal organization, which only makes me wonder who her father had been setting up deals with. It also makes me wonder if her father is tied up in this since he's the one who obtains the deals for her. Considering that he had also been attacked last night, I can't help but wonder if the hit on Morgan might've been retaliation or punishment for her father or if they're just innocent victims caught up in a dangerous scheme because of the business they conduct.
"What business do they have with a nineteen-year-old college student? Morgan has no ties to the bratva for her to be a threat," I mention. There isn't even any information in her file about that possibility.
The man shook his head. "The main company that she does a lot of advertising for is a major competitor for my boss," he explains. "They've been having her give coded messages for the trafficking auctions they have, and this last one conflicts with one that my boss is trying to have for himself. Like, this upcoming auction is for virgins. Don't believe me? Look into the company she did the advertisement for."
Looks like I was right, after all,I muse. I tuck the piece of information in the back of my mind as I nod, making a mental note to mention it to Natalie when I check in with her about any information she may have found.
"Okay, continue," I say.
"So my boss figured if he got rid of the girl, his competitor would lose its main source of advertising. The girl was pulling in a shit ton of money for them, and my boss wanted to disrupt it, especially since he couldn't get her to do any advertising for him."
I shake my head. At least the motive now makes sense. "So all the information about this so-called bomb threat was planted?"
The man nodded. "My boss paid some guys to hack into her phone and email to send communications back and forth to an email and phone number that he had to make it look like she was actively planning things. They also got her credit card information to order items to make it appear as if she was making her own bombs."
"And he wasn't worried about getting caught for fraud?" I ask with a raised brow.
