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“You’re quite the charmer,” I said with a chuckle. “You kiss your mama with that mouth?”

“Shut up and tell me what you know. You’ve given me nothing but shit for two weeks. If you give me something worthwhile, maybe I’ll tell you what I’ve heard.”

I stared at him for a long moment, but he didn’t appear to be bluffing. I wasn’t sure what kind of information he had, but it must be noteworthy enough to taunt me with it. Bringing it up so soon, though—that also meant he wanted me to hear whatever it was.

That was not good news.

If he had something he wanted to tell me so badly, it would most assuredly be something I wouldn’t like hearing. It also meant I needed to hear it, so I made sure Trent had something he would consider valuable.

“I have something you’re going to like,” I told Trent. I sipped my scotch before setting it on the table in front of me and leaning forward. “Greco’s got a woman working for him—a Miss Jenna Ranger. She’s the bitch that collects the goods for one of his businesses. She’s high up in the organization and thinks she’s invulnerable.”

“Yeah,” Trent said as he narrowed his eyes at me, “I know who she is. What about her?”

“Well, Greco’s not happy with her at the moment. It seems the last shipment of people-cargo wasn’t what it was supposed to be. His idea of punishment is that he’s going to go along for the ride personally when she picks up the next batch.”

“You mean he’s going to be there himself when she picks up a bunch of kidnapped kids, illegally smuggled into the country?”

“You got it.”

I could see actual drool as it formed at the corner of his mouth.

“When? Where?”

“The when is around the middle of October,” I said. “They haven’t decided on a where yet.”

“That’s still a ways off. When are you going to have the details?”

“Probably shortly after I bang the bitch,” I replied. I didn’t really intend to fuck Jenna, but I also knew Trent expected that kind of shit from me, and it might throw him off Lia a bit.

He smirked.

“You are a low-life little shit, aren’t you?” he said. “Every once in a while, I think maybe there’s something redeemable in there, but there isn’t. You’re just a fucked up, murdering, shell-shocked, piece-of-shit bastard.”

I’d been called worse.

“The shipment is coming from the Caribbean, probably Haiti or the Dominican Republic. I think they’re still in the process of acquiring the cargo.”

“Sick fuckers.”

I happened to agree with Trent on that one. I might not have had a whole lot of scruples, but that was one of them. He finished his drink and started to stand up without commenting any further.

“You had something to tell me?” I reminded him.

Trent’s eyes glittered as his mouth turned up.

“I do,” he acknowledged. “It’s pretty good and ripe, too.”

“So spill it.”

“Moretti knows you’re working for Greco,” Trent said with a sadistic little smile. “He’s on to you, seriously pissed off, and has decided to teach you a lesson by putting out a contract on your lady friend, if you even care.”

There was no lie in his voice or posture—none at all. What he was saying was completely true, and now Lia was officially caught up in the shit-storm that had been brewing since Trent and Johnson first visited me in jail.

“It’s an open contract,” he said. “First one to her gets the cash.”

“How much?” I asked.

“You thinking of taking the job?” Trent said as he laughed. “Kill her while you fuck her, maybe? That would make it an easy hit.”

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