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9
River
I glancesideways to watch the guy named Priest go, noticing his tense, angry posture. His features were still impassive when he turned away, but this is still more emotion than I’ve seen from him since I got dragged into this mess. Even when they were interrogating me down in their creepy dungeon, he didn’t show anything on his face. But this is a line for him, apparently.
Huh. Interesting.
So there’s at least one of these men who doesn’t want me here just as much I don’t want to be here. I file that information away for later.
I’m not sure whether that fact will make him more or less of an ally in this case. Maybe it just makes him more likely to kill me.
No one tries to stop him from leaving, so I forget about him for the moment, letting him go off to sulk or whatever. Instead, I focus on my new surroundings.
I walk out of the large foyer we’re all standing in and follow the short hall to the living room, plopping down on their stupidly comfortable sofa and making myself comfortable. It’s a nice house from what I’ve seen so far. Not ostentatiously decorated, even though from the size of it, you’d expect something like that.
They’ve got nice, serviceable furniture, a couch, love seat, and recliner all in a soft gray leather. It’s probably real leather, even. The floor is hardwood, but a shaggy white rug covers the floor between the seating and the large TV, with a coffee table in the middle of it all.
I prop my feet right up on the table, letting the heels of my combat boots rest right on top of a magazine, not giving a shit.
Dog and the three men who didn’t storm off to have a tantrum follow me in, and Dog moves to curl up on the rug under my legs, tail still wagging. It’s probably the first time he’s been in a house for a while, and he’s clearly loving it.
That just adds to the image of me making myself comfortable, putting on a show to make sure they see it.
They might have dragged me here and left me with no choice but to put up with their shit, but that doesn’t mean they own me. I’m not some terrified, cowed little girl that they can boss around and intimidate. I’ve killed men more powerful than them. Bigger and stronger, too. They won’t get the best of me.
Besides, they “invited” me here, so it’s my space too. That’s just how it works now.
“Can one of you get me a drink or something?” I ask, looking up at the three of them like I’m just noticing them for the first time. “And some breakfast if you’ve got it. I didn’t have time to eat anything this morning before I was assaulted in my own home.”
I shoot Knox a narrow-eyed look as I say the last part, since he seems darkly amused rather than sorry about breaking into my place. It’s hard to know what’s going on in his head, but he’s grinning, his eyes still wild.
Ash just looks hungry, watching me, dragging his gaze over my legs where they’re stretched out.
Gage looks pissed off, but I don’t think he has another expression. Everything seems to rile him up. I lean down and pet Dog, not breaking eye contact with the imposing man who seems to be the leader of this little group. He’s not the only one who’s angry here, and I think I have more of a right to be mad than he does.
He folds his arms and clears his throat, staring at me hard. I can tell he wants to say something about my little show, but he doesn’t, cutting right to the chase instead.
“How do you plan to kill Ivan St. James?” he asks me. “He’s powerful, paranoid, and well-protected.”
I fight the urge to scowl at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
As if I don’t already know that. As if I haven’t been trying to get at him for months and coming up against dead end after dead end. I don’t need a lecture from this asshole about the facts.
“I don’t know yet,” I admit, clenching my jaw. “I thought I had a lead, but the guy lied about it. That’s why I killed him last night. So now I’m back to square one.”
“So you have nothing,” Gage says. “Why should we think you can even do this?”
I bristle at his implication, narrowing my eyes. “Why don’t you share whatyouknow about him then?” I challenge him. “Maybe it’ll help me since you think I’m so fucking useless.”
He drags a hand through his dark brown hair and then nods curtly. Whatever these four men do other than run a nightclub, they’re clearly well-connected enough in the criminal world to know something. Enough that they have issues with Ivan in the first place.
“He’s got heavy security,” Gage says. His face is all hard lines and sharp edges, and I can’t even quite imagine what it would look like if he smiled. I doubt it’s something he does often. “The man is so paranoid he’s gonna end up with a knife in his back that he doesn’t go anywhere without his team. He rotates them often, and he doesn’t let anyone get close. He rarely conducts business outside of his home, since it’s more easily defensible than going somewhere else. He forces people to deal with him on his turf, and more than a few people have gone missing after trying to strike a deal with him that didn’t go the way he wanted it to.”
A lot of that is shit I already know. Ivan is big enough in the crime world that he has his own legend about him. Rumors fly, and it’s not always easy to tell which are true and which are exaggerated. With Ivan St. James, it’s probably best to assume they’re all true and play it safe.
“He’s also a slumlord,” I put in. “He’s got a shitload of properties scattered around the city, and basically everyone who lives in one is doing his dirty work in one way or another. Even if they don’t know it yet. There has to be a weakness, though. I know he’s crazy paranoid and doesn’t take big risks, buteveryonehas a weakness. The thing about powerful men is they think their power keeps them safe, when really it just paints a big, red target on their asses.”
“You think there’s a hole somewhere?”
