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“Because she’s got a pussy, you believe her? You should know not to trust something that bleeds once a month and doesn’t die,” I sneered.
“By that logic, we can’t trust you,” Brennan retorted.
“You can trust me because I’d die for Conor and Conor would do anything for his family. That’s how you can trust me. You’re fucking lucky. Not many people get that kind of grace from me.” I narrowed my eyes at the unlikely trio. “You three can head on out and leave this to someone who she can’t bat her eyelashes at and convince she’s innocent.” When none of them made a move, I barked, “Get the fuck out.”
“You heard the lady,” Brennan rumbled, directing Forrest and Bagpipes with a jerk of his chin. He slouched back against the wall though.
“Are you sure, Bren?” Forrest inquired, edgy with nerves as he kept on glancing at Priestley.
“I’m sure. Leave the psycho and the traitor with me,” he said with a sigh.
As they traipsed out, I whispered to Priestley, “I’m going to rip your fingernails off. Are you ready for that? Every time you don’t answer a question, that’s your punishment.”
Her gaze darted over to Brennan—it was loaded with a plea. I snapped a glare at him but found he was staring straight ahead, his eyes unfocused.
Though I heaved an inward sigh, I saw the change in Priestley when she realized that her best chance of getting out of here with her head attached had walked out of the back room.
The change was immediate.
Satisfying too.
Men were led by their dicks.
“You can’t do this to me,” she hissed, that ‘lost little girl’ look fading from her expression to be replaced with that of the stone-cold bitch she was.
“Where did your tears go?” I mocked.
“You can’t treat me like this. I’m a Five Pointer’s wife!”
“I think it’s unwise to use that as an argument,” Brennan retorted. “Seeing as your ties to the Five Points are through two traitors.”
Two?
"Her father-in-law," he said, answering my silent question.
Priestley growled, “You have to stop her, Brennan. She’s going to hurt me and I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Do you know who Danny is?” I queried, getting up from my standing position to peer down at her.
“He’s a pencil pusher,” she dismissed.
I angled my head to the side as I studied her, knowing full well that she was a consummate liar. “What’s your son’s name?”
She reared back in surprise. “What?”
“You heard me. What’s his name?”
“Niall. Are you going to hurt him too?”
For the first time, I saw genuine concern in her expression.
Hmm.
“Your mother’s name?”
“Sandra.” She swallowed. “She’s dead. You can’t get to her anymore.”
“Shut up, Priestley. Answer the questions she asks,” Brennan retorted.
