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“I assume so, yeah, I’m just wondering in what part?” He nods at the window near me. “Can you see anything?”
The window is grimy, a permanent haze covering it, but from my angle, I can see a sliver of clear glass at the top.
Through there, I can pick out just a few shapes because I’m on the ocean side of the building.
“Not much. No buildings over here, just the water.”
Luke nods, looking out his own window.
“Okay, that’s actually useful. We’re right on the water, then. I’ve got…shipping containers? I think. An old building in a shipping yard. Hmm…”
There are a few options that come to mind when I hear him say that.
There was a fire at a shipping company office a few years ago, and I remember it had been right on the coast.
“Do you think it’s the old Pelican Trails building?”
We both look around for any type of signage, and I notice Luke sits up taller against the pillar he’s against.
“That’s not a bad thought. Maybe?—”
Hurried footsteps come up behind us, and then the loud boom of a familiar voice echoes around us.
“Shut it! You two ain’t talking about shit anymore. The only words I want from you—” the Cobra from the hospital circles around in front of Luke “—are the locations of those fucking brothers of yours.”
The man hunkers down inches from Luke’s face, and I can’t do anything as he levels his fist at Luke’s jaw.
Chapter 36
Luke
The fucker from the hospital, the one who dragged me out of my apartment just hours before, is kneeling in front of me with his fist pulled back.
It swings forward, connecting with my jaw in a loud crack, and my head whips backward.
The binds on my wrists are too damn reinforced, several sets of ropes circling each one, so I can’t do anything but sit here and let him punch me.
Shaking my head to clear my vision, I spit a bit of blood on the floor as the guy leans back and smirks at me.
“Oh, fuck. Where are my manners? I never said who I was.” He’s still a two-bit thug, but I can tell this guy is higher up in the Cobras. “Name’s Marco. Good to see you again, Mr. Shaw. And your bitch.”
I fight against the ropes again, yanking myself forward in a vain attempt to level this fuckhead.
“Watch what you say about her.”
Marco tosses his head back in an exaggerated laugh and then swings again, this time landing a punch to my stomach.
The air is knocked out of me, and I tense against the sudden jolt of nausea that powers through my gut.
“Ha! You are a piece of shit, aren’t you?” He punches again, connecting with the other side of my ribs. “I’m going to say whatever the fuck I want. And you? You’re going to give up your brothers’ locations.”
Pain swells through my midsection, the dull ache stronger over the recently healed stab wound.
While the discomfort definitely isn’t nothing, I can tell this Marco fucker is holding back. He’s leaving a place for these rounds to go, warming me up.
“I’m not telling you anything, Marco.” I lower my chin, looking from under my brows at him. “You’ve dealt with me before. How’d that go? Oh, yeah. Your buddy who stabbed me got himself killed. Whoops.”
Knuckles smash into my face, right at the jaw where he punched me before, and I know I’ll have a hell of a bruise. I’m goading him, though, and it’s working.
