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“Due diligence was done. We watched the targets. Measured their suitability. Bryant was sent in to expedite the process.”
“To ask questions about their lives,” she said. “Find out who would be missed, who these women were close to. Their hopes, their fears, their vulnerabilities.”
“We wouldn’t want anyone problematic involved.”
“Problematic? This is sick! How can you possibly—who thinks something like this is acceptable? It’s murder. Kidnapping. Torture. Murder!”
“An indulgence that’s not worth the trouble anymore. The risk outweighs the benefit.”
“It’s a business decision?” Another sickening point. “How do you live with yourself?”
“Very well,” Silvio said, his gaze cooling. “This was a side project, a hobby. It is not worth jeopardizing our other operations for.”
How much would the men pay for the service? Hundreds? Thousands? Whatever it was would be a drop in the ocean to the Manzani empire.
“Am I supposed to be grateful?”
“You’ve done enough to make your point,” Silvio said. “Spirited women are enjoyable to a point.”
“What point is that?” she asked, not sure she appreciated the description.
“To the point at which I break them.”
No apology. No shame.
“You haven’t broken me.”
“We’ll see,” Silvio said and stood to stroll over. “Write the piece as directed or you and those you care about will suffer for it. You have your perpetrator and Yvonne Ingham is being picked up by ambulance as we speak.”
She gasped. “She’s alive.”
“You don’t do what you’re told and she won’t be for long.”
He paused at her side. “Any story other than the approved version will never make it into your newspaper.” She looked up. “Steeple is your boss, isn’t he? He is a reasonable man. A man who understands how this relationship works.”
Silvio carried on and the door opened.
“Genny?” Jagg asked, coming around in front of her. “Babe, are you okay?”
“I… maybe.”
“My guys will leave the garage after we’re all out safe,” Swerve said.
“What about Mila?” Going to the end of the bed, she grabbed the rail. “What did you inject into her—”
“She’ll be fine,” Swerve said. “Though she is weak, anything could happen any time.”
Still staring into her friend, so small and vulnerable, Jagg left with Swerve, but she stayed put.
Write the story or lose her life. If that was the only choice, she might take the risk. Steeple had a wife, a family. Her brother, Jagg, her dad… Was revealing a charge the Manzanis would wriggle out of anyway worth their lives?
FORTY-FIVE
EXHAUSTION SWIRLED on the ride back to Jagg’s Autos. None of her choices were appealing and she didn’t trust herself to decide.
Jagg killed the engine but didn’t get out. “Are you okay?”
“I have to write it, don’t I? His way.” When nothing followed, she shifted the angle of her head to look at him. “How can I ask for anyone’s trust or respect…? How can I ask you to love me knowing I’m a coward and a sellout?”
