Page 70 of Savage Little War

I slam him down on the ground before he can finish.

“Get the fuck off of me!”

Mark, Leo, and Denis help me drag Devon into the nearby dining room and zip tie his hands to the arms of a wooden dining chair.

“Don’t fight,” I warn. “You get one chance to make this easy.”

Devon laughs in my face. He isn’t going to work with us. I slam my knuckles against his jaw, making his head snap to the side. “Then we do it the hard way.”

“What the fuck do you want?” Devon grits out as he glares up at us, moonlight flitting across his angry face.

“You tried to carry out a hit outside of a wedding dress shop,” I state, watching his expression stiffen. That’s enough of an admission of guilt, and I can’t help but punch him in the face again just for thinking about killing my fiancé.

“What the hell, man?” Devon snaps at me, blood dripping off his chin. “It wasn’t me!”

“You almost killed my girl,” I grit out as I step closer to him, resisting the urge to strangle him to death. “Your car was there,” I snarl. “Your plate is on camera. And you’re the one who just stumbled out of bed at midnight like you’ve got nothing to hide.”

Devon scoffs at me. “Yeah, fine. I shot some old guy.”

“That was her father,” I say in a cold voice. “Who paid you?”

Devon tightens his jaw. “Don’t know. Can’t tell you.”

“Yes, you can. You will,” I reply as I hold my hand out.

Mark drops a knife into my palm. “Should we search the place while you handle him?”

“Might as well,” I say. Just in case I can’t get this bastard to talk.

“Leave my shit alone, you sons of bitches!” Devon spits out as my men spread out to search the house for anything helpful. Based on his panic, maybe they will find something useful.

“Tell me who hired you. Were there other hired contractors with you?” I ask as I point the knife toward him.

Devon glares at me. “I work with some other guys on important gigs. That’s all I can say.”

“You don’t want to talk because you don’t want to get in trouble with whoever fucking hired you. Trust me, that’s the least of your concerns right now.”

Devon grinds his teeth. “I’m not trying to get skinned alive and dumped in a river somewhere.”

“I will do exactly that if you don’t fucking talk,” I tell him as I press the tip of the knife blade against his cheek.

“I was paid for discretion,” Devon replies evenly.

“Your money won’t matter in hell,” I bite out before slicing the knife downward, splitting his cheek the way they did to Cara.

Devon cries out in pain as he recoils from me.

“Found anything?” I call out to my men as I shift the knife in my hand to get a better grip on the handle.

Ten seconds later, Mark strides back into the living room with a phone in his hand. “If he won’t talk, we trace the money.”

Devon stiffens as he stares at his phone.

“Let’s do it,” I say before stepping closer to Devon and letting the tip of the knife blade hover only an inch away from his eye. “Unless you want to tell me yourself.”

A faint shudder rattles through Devon, but he doesn’t say a word. That’s enough of an answer for me.

I walk around Devon and grab both sides of his face, keeping his head straight so that his phone’s facial recognition software can read him. It unlocks. The bank app opens. His balance flashes on-screen.