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He snorts, derision clear in his face. “Oh, so your attempt to make it big in the world didn’t pay off? I told you they always come crawling back. That’s okay. Since that john Giselle found for you decided not to fuck you after all, I’ll cut you a deal. You bend over and take it like a good little slut, and I’ll cut my price down to ten thousand instead.”
He reaches for her as he speaks, hooking an arm around her waist and yanking her closer, vindictive anger burning in his eyes. There’s not even any desire there. He just wants to hurt her for fucking him over.
That thought jabs through my brain like a red hot poker, and I wrench the bedroom door open, moving before I even realize it. I charge toward him, grabbing the back of his neck with one hand and yanking him away from Willow.
He doesn’t see me coming, and the suddenness of my attack catches him off guard. He lets go of Willow, who scrambles away as Carl spins to face me, lashing out with a wild punch. He clips the side of my cheek, sending my head whipping to the side, but I recover quickly and bum rush him, bringing him down to the floor.
We grapple for my weapon, and I headbutt him, then yank a pillow off the couch and shove it against his chest, pressing the barrel of the gun against it before firing twice.
Carl jerks, then goes still.
Willow claps her hands over her mouth to stifle a scream, her gaze riveted to the pool of blood slowly spreading across the floor beneath the pillow-covered body. I grit my teeth, rising to my feet and looking down at the mess with distaste. The impulse to clean it up is strong, but I grip the back of the couch, forcing myself to ignore it.
Killing Carl was a mistake, and I’m pissed at myself for being so fucking impulsive. I should have tried to disable him instead of outright killing him. Then maybe my brothers and I could’ve gotten information from him, interrogating him to find out who came to see him asking about the brothel.
Shooting him wasn’t the smart or logical thing to do. I lost control and let my emotions take over, and that’s never how I like to do things.
Willow is still rooted in place, her luminous eyes wide with shock. She gapes at the body, her face white as a sheet, and I let out a sigh, turning away from the seeping blood and pulling out my phone to call my brothers.
26
RANSOM
I bobmy head to the music playing over the speakers I set up in the garage, turning a wrench to tighten the part I’m setting into the car I’m working on.
I’m lost in my own little world, the way I usually get when I’m working on something, but I catch the sound of footsteps a second before Malice comes stalking into the garage, looking pissed.
“Hold on, I’m putting you on speaker,” he says into the phone at his ear.
I straighten up and wipe my hands on the rag I have tucked into my belt.
“We have… a problem,” Vic says over the speaker. “Willow’s old boss showed up at her apartment. Someone came to him, asking about if he had sent any girls to the brothel the night we killed Nikolai. Her boss knew Willow was there at some point, and he tried to blackmail her, saying he’d keep her secret if she fucked him. He’s dead now.”
My eyebrows shoot up.
Fuck.
It’s kind of amazing how Vic’s voice stayed totally even as he spoke, all the way up to the part where he coolly mentioned that Willow’s ex-boss is now dead.
Malice and I look at each other, and I can tell he’s thinking the same thing I am: this is bad.
That means someone almost got to Willow. Someone was asking around, following the breadcrumbs that led from the whorehouse to the strip club. Whoever it was clearly didn’t know exactly who they were looking for, but they got one step closer.
“Carl lied to this guy?” Malice asks, his eyes narrowed as he stares at the car I was working on—although I don’t think he’s really seeing it.
“Yes,” Vic replies. “Either to keep himself out of it or just to get leverage over Willow.”
“That’s something, at least,” I mutter.
Malice nods. “That means whoever was poking around doesn’t know she was there, and the only other person whodidknow is now dead.” He pauses, then adds, “I’m assuming you’re the one who killed him.”
Vic huffs a breath. “Yes.”
“We can’t relax just because that fucker is done,” I point out. “The fact that someone was looking at all, pulling on those threads and trying to get answers, means someone is out there trying to find out who killed Nikolai. We were right to worry about someone trying to avenge his death.”
Malice curses, gripping the phone tighter. “We need to get the girl here. Now. She has to be under our watch all the time. It’s the only way we can be sure no one can get to her and use her to find us.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” I nod, tugging the rag out of my belt and tossing it down. Guess I’m done working on this car for the night.
