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Nine ducks so he doesn’t hit his head on the low ceiling by the door.
Everything except maybe head space.
“Good, then point me in the direction of said vodka because I’m going to need a drink or twenty before we begin the torture and interrogation,” I announce.
Nine shuts the door behind me, and I jump at the sound of the lock clicking into place. Unsure of what to do with myself and unsure of where the vodka is, I press my nails into my palms until it stings.
Nine sets down my backpack on the counter. He’s a large man, but looks even more massive in this space. Like a giant crashing in a home belonging to elves.
He takes two strides, and he’s in the kitchen. He opens the cabinet above the refrigerator and takes out two paper cups and a full bottle of vodka. He pours one drink and sets it on the counter, pushing it toward me.
I bypass the cup and round the counter, plucking the bottle out of his hands. “Thanks,” I offer, I plop down on the stiff green sofa. I feel his eyes on me as I take several burning swallows. When I’m done, I don’t set the bottle down but rather I cradle it like a baby in my arms. “I’m ready,” I announce. “Commence with the torture.”
Nine drains his cup and sets it down on the counter, not even cracking a smile at my attempt to lighten the potentially murderous situation. He makes his way toward the couch, but remains standing, towering over me.
“Were you involved in Jared’s scheme to rip off the cartel, the MC, and my friends?”
“No,” I answer.
He looks to be thinking.
“Did you sign as a witness on any of the documentation forms for the transfers from our accounts to himself?”
“No! I’ve never signed anything with Jared. I have nothing to do with his company or whatever it is you think he stole. Why don’t you find him and ask him? I think that might be a better use of your time. I’m just saying.”
I take a big swig from Baby Vodka.
“Is this the part where you taze me or rip out one of my teeth?” I ask.
Nine’s serious façade breaks with the slightest upward turn of the corner of his mouth. “Not just yet.”
“Okay, saving the excitement for later. Delayed gratification.” I wink. “Got ya. Like your tactic. Draw out the torture. Make me mentally suffer before I physically suffer.” I take another swig from the bottle. “Okay, next.”
He frowns. “Do you know where Jared hid the money he stole or where it is now?”
I hold his gaze, unblinking. “Nope. But I was kind of wondering where the money is that he stole from me as well, or better yet, why he would steal my money when he’d already stolen all this cash from you guys. How much was it by the way?”
“Millions,” Nine offers.
I’m so surprised by the amount that I accidentally spit vodka all over Nine’s jeans. He doesn’t so much as flinch. He just stares at me, gauging my every reaction.
I bet he didn’t see that reaction coming.
“Shit, and here I was pissed about sixty-grand.” I say.
Nine’s only response is a hard stare.
I sigh. “Alright, is this when you get out the tools? Show me how sharp and pointy they are?”
He wrinkles his forehead. “No, I had something else in mind.” His eyes darken, and my stomach flutters. I don’t know if it’s fear or the vodka that makes my body suddenly feel too hot for my skin.
“And…what is that?” I ask.
Nine leans down, his lips are a breath away from mine.
I smell mint on his breath. I close my eyes, not sure what to expect, but it sure isn’t, “Food.”
“Food?” I open my eyes to find that he’s already across the room in the small kitchen. He opens the refrigerator and gets out lunch meats, breads, and paper plates.
“Food?” I repeat the question.
“Yes, food. I can hear your stomach growling from here.”
“Oh, that’s just my stomach processing the vodka,” I lie. “I can’t remember the last time I actually ate and I hadn’t even heard my stomach growing until he pointed it out and now it’s all I can hear.
I stand with my bottle and walk to the small counter. I take a seat at the bar and set the bottle down without releasing it.
Nine raises his eyebrows. “It’s yours. I’m not going to take it. You can let it go.”
Reluctantly, I let it go, and he pushes a large sandwich in front of me.
“Eat,” he orders.
My stomach growls again; my mouth waters at the sight.
Apparently, I’m not the only one who’s hungry. I’m not even halfway done with my sandwich when I look up and Nine’s already finished with his first and working on making a second.
