Page 144 of Shattered Pieces

“I’ll hook you up, but Hunt won’t let you until your throat’s better. You’d make us some good money, I’ve heard how people talk about you from the Shed.”

“Does it make me a traitor if I start fighting for you guys?” I asked with a sigh, and he gave me a pointed look.

“They already think you’re a traitor, so it’s only going to add fuel to the fire. Do you care at this point?”

“I care that Diesel’s going to get shit over it.”

“Talk to him before doing anything so he has a heads-up,” he suggested, putting an arm out to stop me from walking. “Follow my lead when we get inside, okay? I don’t mind if you want to jump in and play, but let me get my shit out of the way first. I’d rather you didn’t kill him either.”

I nodded, motioning for him to keep walking, and I spotted the house before he even told me which one it was. It was a small house with a rusty car out front, the lawn needed a good mow, and one window was boarded up.

Definitely looked like a dodgy person.

We walked right up to the front door to knock, waiting as we heard someone call out that they were coming. The door swung open and a guy stood in front of us, the smile falling from his face when he realized who it was.

“Time’s up, man. Where’s my money?” Marco asked, giving the guy two seconds to reply before pushing him back into the house and stepping inside behind him. I followed, closing the door with my foot to avoid touching anything. I wasn’t risking it.

“I’ll have it next week!” the guy insisted, tightening his robe and telling me we’d probably woken him up so he’d thrown it on to answer the door.

“You said that last week. You’re already a month late. Do you think we run a charity?” Marco drawled, clicking his fingers when the guy’s eyes kept flicking to me. “Hey. Don’t fucking look at her. Look at me. You think she’ll help you just because she’s a woman? Maybe she’s softer than me? She’s more likely to kill you than me. She just got out of prison for murder, you know?”

He failed to mention I got out because the case had been dropped, but I wasn’t going to correct him and make the guy feel better.

Seeing the fear in the man’s eyes did something inside of me. It was like a growing sense of power, giving me something similar to an adrenaline rush. I hadn’t even done anything and the guy looked ready to piss his pants.

Having a grown man cowering to you was kind of nice.

“So, hand over the money or you lose fingers,” Marco continued, crossing his arms lazily, and I stepped a little closer to make it look like we were a unit. I didn’t want to look like a tag-along. More like a partner in crime to really scare the guy.

“I have six. I can get the rest⁠—”

“You put all twelve in my hand before I walk out that door or you lose a finger for every grand I’m missing. That’s six, in case you can’t count. You’ll have two thumbs and two fingers left,” he stated, pulling a butterfly knife out and flipping it around in his hand with ease. It was slightly impressive.

We watched the guy rushing around the house pulling drawers apart to find as much money as possible, which really didn’t make much of a difference. He still needed five grand by the time he’d torn the house apart.

“Look at that, you saved a whole finger,” I joked, not expecting Marco to bark out a laugh. He was laughing so hard he was bent over slightly.

Apparently, that was a good time to try and escape.

The man made a break for it, and I didn’t think twice before making chase. I tackled him to the ground before he could reach the back door, and thankfully, he wasn’t a big guy or this wouldn’t have worked. Once I was straddling his back, I smashed his face against the ground, leaning down to talk in his ear as he started crying.

“Now you’ve got a broken nose and you’ll still lose five fingers.”

My body was tingling, I felt like I’d been zapped with electricity or something as Marco appeared with a smirk.

“Nice catch, Princess. Climb off. I’ll hold him if you want to take one of his fingers.”

Did I want to do that?

“What does he owe you money from?” I asked. “What kind of person is he?”

“Not everyone is a bad person, they just make bad choices, so you won’t always be able to find a good reason to warrant the violence to make yourself feel better,” he chuckled, squatting beside me. “Brent is a bad guy though. Right, Brent? Tell her what you did to your wife.”

The guy, who’s name was apparently Brent, started thrashing, but I held on to make sure he didn’t get up. I fisted his hair and smacked his face against the ground again, making him cry out in pain.

“What did you do to her?” I spat, tightening my hold and feeling some of his hair pull from his scalp.

“I didn’t mean to!”