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With my back to him, I ask, “Is she taken care of?”
“Have I ever let you down?”
No, he hasn’t. But that’s the thing about being in my position. There are endless numbers of plates to be spun all at once. I can’t lose track of my walking, talking repayment simply because another plate is in danger of crashing to the floor.
Who am I kidding? It’s already crashed.
I turn to him, lifting my glass in silent invitation. All that earns me is a slight head shake. Jock prefers to keep a clear head. One of the many reasons why he’s indispensable. “That was Doctor Lewis on the phone, calling from the midtown location. They called him in last night.”
“And you were only alerted today?” He perches on the arm of the sofa where Delilah recently sat.
“If anything, I appreciate them not calling over every little dust-up.” A long gulp from the tumbler sends heat through my chest but does nothing to blunt the bitterness eating at me. “Though in a case like this, an immediate phone call would’ve been preferable. If not immediate, at least once the doc made his assessment. I told him so, not that it matters right now.”
“What happened?”
“One of the girls. She’s in bad shape after a customer beat the shit out of her.”
“Bad shape?” He snorts before sliding me a knowing look. “I’ve never seen you come off a phone call looking like you saw a ghost until a few minutes ago. She’s in worse than bad shape, isn’t she?”
I stare into the glass before bolting back what’s left inside. “The truth? I’ve never heard him sound the way he did, and he’s been handling things with the girls since I was too young to understand what the girls do or what a brothel is.”
My ragged breath fills the air. “He said she might not make it. Severe internal damage.”
“Fuck. What the hell did they do to her?”
“All I know is, he stuffed a sock in her mouth after tying her to the bed and turned up the TV in her room to drown out her screams. She would’ve screamed, too, if he did everything the doc theorized based on her injuries. Lacerated liver. Broken ribs. Broken jaw. Trauma to the genitals—I left that there. Didn’t ask for further clarification.”
Bile rises in my throat. “He said the bed was soaked with blood when he got there.”
“Fuck,” Jock mutters again. “Who was it?”
“That’s where you come in. I’m going to need you to find this piece of shit and bring him to me.”
“With pleasure. They still scan IDs of every swinging dick that walks in?”
“They’re sending the file over as we speak. It contains the card he used as payment, too.”
If there’s one thing I’ve come to expect, it’s his ability to think ahead. That ability is what makes him indispensable. “So we’re shutting down for the foreseeable future?”
“Now that one of the girls was so badly beaten, she needed the attention of an actual hospital? Yeah. We’re shutting that arm of the business down for the foreseeable future.” Now I need another drink. Knowing it is one thing, but saying the words out loud is another story. How much has the family lost during the course of this conversation? I need to stop asking myself questions like that or else say goodbye to a functioning liver, myself. There isn’t enough whiskey in the world to dull my rage.
“Hence the girl staying here.”
“Correct. A real shame. She could bring in a mint.” I bark out a laugh while pouring myself another drink. “She will, too, once we’re up and running on that front. She might make back everything we’re losing by staying under the radar.”
“If she doesn’t turn everybody off with that smart mouth of hers.”
I have to duck my head to hide a grin. Just why his statement should make me smile is a perverse mystery.
“She reminds me of…”
End of smile. My head snaps up. “Since when do we talk about her?”
His head snaps back before he shakes himself like he forgot where he was, who he was speaking to. “Right. I forgot. My apologies.”
I nod before sipping from the glass. The mention of her makes me want to drink what’s left in the bottle, which is exactly why I need to control myself. Men in my position can’t afford to drown their sorrows the way other men can. No matter how tempting the idea might be. Drinking myself into oblivion, forgetting everything for a little while.
When he speaks again, Jock’s voice doesn’t carry the note of nostalgia it did a moment ago. “I’ll be on the trail of whoever this sick asshole is.” He stands before buttoning his jacket. “Anything else?”
