Page 198 of The Rising


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“Love,” someone says from behind me. I swing around. Higham. Is he for real? He’s going to come in here and brandish his fucking sarcasm? I look at the others, maybe searching for a sign that my thoughts are reasonable, because I seriously want to kill him.

“Danny,” James says quietly. “Don’t do it.”

I steam forward and take the prick off his feet, deciding today I get to do the torturing. He grunts when he lands, and I straddle him, sit up, and start launching my fists into his face one at a time, over and over.

Bang, bang, bang, bang.

“Danny, for fuck’s sake!”

Bang, bang, bang, bang.

Blood comes like rain hitting a lake and splashing up into my face, but still I don’t stop, the outlet exactly what I need.

“Danny!”

A pair of hands grab my shoulders and hauls me back, and I land on my arse a few feet away, my fists covered in blood, my face and suit splattered. Higham starts rolling around on the floor, his face a broken, bloodied mess, groaning. “Fucking hell, Black,” he chokes. “You fucking madman.”

I snort, wiping my face with the sleeve of my jacket, and push myself to my feet, putting my boot in his stomach with force, making him cough. I drop to a knee, fist his jacket, and haul him up. “Why the fuck are you having coffee with Natalia Potter?”

His face drops, and doesn’t that speak volumes?

“Love his gentle approach,” James says, retreating, leaving me to my own devices. Good. Today I want to kill, and I don’t feel like doing it slowly. So much for my good mood.

“Talk!”

“I’m seeing her.” Higham strains the words, his face pained, and not because he’s in fucking agony.

“What?”

“I’m having a fucking affair, okay?” He pushes my hands away and sniffles, roughly wiping his bleeding nose with the back of his hand.

“With the woman who wrote a report about me and James?”

“Yes,” he yells, distressed. “Fucking hell, yes. I told her she was on dangerous ground. She wouldn’t fucking listen, would she? She’s young. Hungry.”

I peek up at Otto. He said that. “So you didn’t feed her information on us?”

“God no, I value my life.”

“Then... who did?”

“She wouldn’t say.”

“Oh, come on, Higham.”

“I swear, she wouldn’t say.”

“So, we need to have a little chat with your girlfriend?”

His eyes widen, worried. I can’t figure out if he’s concerned for her or himself. “Danny, come on.”

Yeah, maybe he’s sticking his dick in another woman, but how did they get to know each other in the first place? It’s all rather convenient if you ask me. I get my face up in his, fisting his jacket again. “I don’t believe you.”

“Oh, how cozy is this?” a female voice asks. One I can’t claim to recognize.

Higham’s bloodied face drops, and I hear a few quiet curses behind me. I look back, still with Higham in my grasp. Collins is standing in the club. Her smile salacious. “Oh, we finally get to chat,” I say, smiling. It’s as salacious as hers.

She pouts, looking at Higham in my grasp. “Assaulting an FBI agent? I’ve only been here five seconds, and I already have a reason to arrest you.” She pulls out her cuffs and dangles them. Fuck me, I’ve met some cocky cops in my time, but this female is taking the fucking cake.

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