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“And what did he want you to do?” Callum growls from his place by my shoulder.
The man swallows. There’s already defeat in his eyes. Like he knows his life is at an end and he’s accepted it.
“Please…” he says before he finishes. “Promise me my family will be safe from that monster. I’ll tell you anything, everything. Just promise me he won’t get to them after I’m gone.”
I guess our reputation precedes us. Perhaps he always knew death would be the outcome.
Callum gives a noncommittal grunt and almost looks like he might strike the guy again, but I step forward with my own assurance, first checking on the other two men to ensure they’re not conscious, even though it means getting their blood all over my shirt. Don’t want any ears on our deals. “You don’t need to worry on that account. I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.”
My brother gives me a vicious side-eye, but I have ideas that I’ll pitch to him when we’re done here.
“He wanted me to sell for him. But I wasn’t really selling. Hell, I wouldn’t know how.”
It’s becoming more and more obvious this bloke is one of those people in the wrong place at the wrong time. So far removed from this lifestyle, his existence within it is laughable.
“He gave me the product and told me when and where to be. Dates, times, who to expect. I didn’t actively sell at all. Hell no… when a couple of kids approached me, I told them they had the wrong fella - they were far too young to get into that shit. The others? Well, I don’t know what their deal was, but I figured he sent them. Maybe to check I was doing what he said. The only thing I know is it was all bullshit, and I never would have entertained the idea if he hadn’t threatened my family.”
I nod, but my mind is elsewhere. Beside me, Cal’s getting restless again, but I have plans for this man. He’s not the enemy. He’s not one of us. He’s nothing more than a victim of circumstance, and I’m not so much of a bastard that I’ll punish him for being afraid, and for trying to protect his family.
But I will use him for my own ends.
“Cut him down,” I order my men. A few of them look at me in confusion, but none of them question my decision. Not that they’re gentle. The ropes binding the prisoner to the beam are cut and he crumples on the cold concrete floor in a groaning heap.
Snapping my fingers, I point to a blanket, and someone grabs it, throwing it over the shaking figure who now cowers on the floor. I grab a chair and drag it across the room, seating myself before his prone form.
“I understand your motivation,” I tell him. “I realize your actions weren’t malicious, and for that reason, I’ve decided you can live.”
There’s a muted muffle of sound as our men comment to each other in low voices.
Maybe they think I’ve lost my mind, but I didn’t get where I am today without a certain level of awareness. “There are conditions, though.”
“Anything,” he offers, more than a hint of hope-tinged desperation in his voice.
I nod. “You’ll work for us now…”
His face is resigned, but I’m not the monster the Viper is. “Your family, your daughters, are safe from us. I have no interest in them. All I want is for you to let us know what is required of you from this man who’s pulling your strings. And you feed him only the information we give you.”
“That’s it?” he asks, tired surprise coloring his tone.
“That’s it. And in return, you and your family will benefit from our protection.”
“Really?” There’s enough awe and relief in his voice that I know he’ll keep his word. In response, I nod just once before I get up and walk out, signaling my men to release him back to safety.
Chapter Thirteen
MARICELA
It’s not particularly late when I’m awoken by somebody moving about the room, but I still jar out of a surprisingly deep sleep with a jolt, my fight-or-flight mode kicking in and rapidly smothering any post-sleep daze.
The ambient light shows a dark figure in the room, and for a moment, I’m frozen with fear as my brain actively searches for what to do next.
It takes a few beats before I reorient myself and realize I’m not in Vito’s wing of the Rossi compound, but I still curse myself for falling asleep. I sure as hell should know better.
But everything in the room is calm. There’s no one ripping the sheets from around me. No rancidly stinking body pressing down on top of me, tearing at my clothes, or debilitating me with disorienting punches. No pervading impression of doom stealing silently through the ether on terrifying wings while I am forced to consider my doom.
I find Ciaran in the soft, diffused light from the desk lamp on the other side of the room. As my eyes grow accustomed to the gloom, I can see his pristine white dress shirt is covered in blood and a streak of trepidation slashes through me. I stay quiet, not moving or talking as he strips out of the shirt, carefully depositing it in a lidded container, then moves into the bathroom. An arrow of relief loosens my tense muscles when I hear the shower start up.
It doesn’t last long. It feels like no time at all before he comes back into the bedroom and pads over to the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of skin-tight black boxer briefs, which leave nothing to the imagination.
