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“Threaten me all you want. I’m not averse to foreplay.”
I jerk back. “Foreplay?”
Surprise.
Gabriel reaches into his back pocket and opens the lighter.Mylighter. The one I keep in my jacket. Everything inside of me tenses when I see him holding it, the metal dwarfed by the size of his palm.
“Where did you get this?” he asks.
Panic freezes my tongue and no words come out, my eyes widening as I watch him ignite the flame then extinguish it.
“You’ve got the finest set of tits I’ve ever seen, by the way,” he continues. “I hope you don’t mind. I did a little exploring while I waited for you to come to. The tits make up for the flat ass.”
“You goddamn son of a bitch!”
“I’ve been called worse.” He flicks the lighter again. “Where did you get this?”
He might be hot, might know exactly how to use his looks like a weapon, but there is nothing but fury inside of me. And that fury makes me spit at him.
It lands on top of one of his perfectly polished shoes and Gabriel only tracks the trajectory and notes the landing.
“My dead father’s body,” I say venomously. “I’m the one who found him and the lighter was placed so carefully on top of his mutilated chest. All right?”
“That’s not possible.” Gabriel’s answer is quick. “These lighters—” He shakes it. “—they’re only used for hits sanctioned by the Black Market Syndicate.”
The what?
“Would you know if your father had a hit out on him?” he continues.
“What? No. My father was a drunk but he wasn’t into anything illegal.”
Gabriel’s eyes flicker, holding both a promise and a warning that he is reaching the end of his patience with me. Annoyance at his overbearing attitude threatens to consume me.
Not to mention terror at what might happen if I push him too far.
“Dad was a jackass on a good night, but he loved me. He did his best when it was just the two of us, and there’s no way he would have been involved with any of the cartels in Empire Bay.”
Yet someone cut him down viciously and too soon.
Drugs?
I’ve never even heard of the Black Market Syndicate.
“This lighter is a calling card,” Gabriel continues. “A way to claim the kill when it’s called for by Broderick Stevens.”
I stiffen at the name.
At least it’s one I know, and not for anything good. Stevens is one of the biggest drug dealers out there but also the one with his fingers in every pocket like a fucking Gotham City politician. He works the underbelly of the city like a pacemaker, ensuring every beat is to his tune.
Shock ripples through my bloodstream along with a healthy dose of adrenaline. I’ve had my eye on Broderick Stevens for years but I haven’t been able to pin him for anything.
Not one single crime.
And I’ve never heard of the Black Market name linked to him, either.
“You do not want to mess with Broderick. Do you understand me, Detective?” Gabriel slides the lighter into his pocket and shakes his head. Disgust narrows his eyes, as though he’s taken aback that he told me anything in the first place. “So you’ll stay under the radar and keep your mouth shut unless you’d like your friends and family to find you floating face down in the Maddock River.”
“Listen, you piece of shit.” I lean forward. He’s been called worse names in his life, I’m sure, and I’ve heard more creative threats. I’m not scared of him. Even when I should be. “I’m expected at work at sunrise. And I’ve never so much as missed a day in my entire career. Unless you want every officer we’ve got on your ass, you’re going to let me go.”
