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Ashley nods quickly, and I remove my arms from the mock cage I was surrounding her in.
I turn and walk away from her, checking behind each curtain until I see Dom sitting in a chair next to the fucker who tried to get away with Evelina.
“Got here quicker than I thought you would.” Dom glances between me and the man lying in the bed. He’s got an IV hooked up to his arm and a nasty-looking gash across his forehead. “Figured I’d let you have your fun with him. Hasn’t said much, but you know me. I’m good with silence.”
Dom pats me on the back and moves to stand outside the curtain as I take his place.
“Hey, man, I—”
I shake my head, causing him to stop talking as I eye the fucker up lying there helpless in his little hospital gown like a useless loser. I’m getting really fucking sick and tired of people speaking out of turn.
“I’ll let you know when I need to hear you speak,” I say as I crack my knuckles. A bad habit that I don’t care to break.
The man’s eyes dart back and forth between the curtain and me. His gaze never strays for too long. I can tell he wants to say something as he nervously taps his fingers against the mattress, but he’s smart enough not to.
“Were you buying her for yourself or someone else?” I ask, and before he can answer, I follow up with, “I’m going to let you answer me, but I already know the truth. So you have exactly one chance to not lie to me.”
“Can I ask who you are?” he asks, his voice low as he looks me up and down.
“No.”
He takes in a deep breath. “She wasn’t for me.”
I slap my hands against my knees and bend at the waist, resting my elbows on my thighs. “Good boy. I knew you’d make the right choice,” I tell him in a coddling voice, but I make it clear I’m being nothing but a smug fucking bastard. “Now, who the fuck are you working for? I assume you’re a nobody. You got yourself wrapped up in a real shitty deal, didn’t you? What can I call you?”
“Frank,” he says as he throws back the blanket, and a bead of sweat trickles down his cheek. “I was told not to speak to nobody, and everything would be fine. Now I’m sitting in a hospital bed with a tall, dark, and murderous man towering over me like I’m about to be his next meal.”
That earns the guy a chuckle. I can’t help but let it out even though I wanna rip his tongue out of his mouth and shove it up his ass.
“Tall, dark, and murderous,” I muse. “Kind of has a ring to it, don’t you think? I don’t eat pricks, though. Just pussy.”
I wink at him, and he flinches. Glancing down at my watch, I make a show of my annoyance and the patience I have that’s thinning by the fucking second.
I decide to give him another few seconds, but he still hasn’t answered my other question. I guess he needs a little help.
Moving my hand to my sidepiece, I lift my suit jacket out of the way and yank my gun from the holster.
“Fuck, man. You guys with your guns. Put it away, please.”
“Tell me who the fuck you’re working for, Frank,” I say, my voice echoing in the small, square room.
I stand up and pace the room, knowing I can’t just shoot the fucker in the head. Controlling the desperate urge I have inside of me to just blow his brains out, to be a product of my environment and not give a fuck who I kill in the process, flickers in my fucking veins.
Turning toward the bastard in the bed, I point my pistol at him, and finally, the fucking moron smartens up. I’m sure Dom is growing impatient with how long this is taking because I’m fairly certain he’s fighting off people outside.
“Okay! Okay!” he shouts, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. “Roy Underwood.”
Doesn’t ring a bell.
I narrow my eyes at him and cock the gun.
“Fuck, man!” He sits up and tries to stand but nearly yanks his IV out of his arm. “Shit!” he hisses. “Banker, He’s a banker in Bridgeport. I swear to you. I swear.”
His voice shakes as he starts to plead for his life. It only makes me bring the gun closer to his head. Little does he know, I can’t kill him here. Too many eyes and too fucking messy.
“There’s a business card in my wallet.” He nods to a small basin with his shit piled in it, and I walk over to it, pull his wallet out, check to make sure there’s a card with Roy’s name on it, and shove it in my pocket.
He goes to argue, but I just hold a finger to my lips.
