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“Are you waiting for an invitation?”
“How do you know my London?” Marcus asks, not moving to follow directions. He’s fidgety, brow showing a hint of perspiration. Reeks of guilt.
“Sit down.” I’m done with being pleasant. These two fucks need to understand just how vulnerable they are. “If I have to repeat myself, you’ll each walk out with something broken. Understood?”
“Crystal.” Marcus tugs on his son’s uninjured hand to sit across from Javier on the opposite couch. For a few minutes we’re quiet, my eyes on Alton while his grow uncomfortable with each second that passes. Pussies.
I have all the time in the world; my Twirl is safe.
A throat clears, and I shift my gaze to Marcus. “Speak.”
“I’m sorry, but you must understand that as her father, I worry. How do you know London?”
Her father. Her father. Christ, this man is playing with the kind of fire that eviscerates, leaving no trace behind. It would be so easy. A flick of my wrist and two bullets is all it would take to eradicate the world of this filth.
“That’s the wrong question, and we both know that.” Leaning forward, I keep my eyes set on his. Let him see the fury burning behind this calm facade. “The correct one, is what don’t I know?”
“Why are we here?” This time it’s Alton who speaks up.
“Another stupid question.” Standing up, I walk over to my bar and pour myself a few fingers’ worth of gin. I can feel the stares on my back—the tension mounting—and I revel in it.
“Yet you give us no answer.”
A chuckle escapes me, and I take a sip while walking back to my seat, savoring the crisp notes of citrus while the two asswipes squirm.
Another human trait that most cannot control: their nerves. Those ticks that are a part of our genetics—the makeup of our identities that controls reactions.
The shaking of limbs.
The twitch of a jaw.
The bouncing of a leg like the older man before me.
“Congratulations, Alton. You’re as stupid as I thought you were.”
“What the fuc—”
The click of Javier’s gun stops him. “Try again, and be respectful. Do not mistake his generosity with patience.”
“My apologies. No disrespect meant, I’m just...” He takes in a deep breath while shifting in his seat, using the same hand with the dislocated knuckle to push his weight toward me. He’s in pain. Wishing he could retaliate against me—be me—but instead, is once again reminded to know his place.
I nod at Javi and he lowers his weapon. “Carry on.”
“Please understand,” Alton grits out, rubbing his hand, “I’m just concerned for my family. My sister isn’t aware of our family’s dealings, and yesterday’s late-night visit has shaken her. I just want to make sure that everything between us is cool. That—”
“Save the bullshit spiel, Foster. We both know where your worries lie.” I grab a small remote from atop a side table and point it toward the wall across from me. At once the whirling of a motor reverberates through the room as a faux wall moves up, exposing a hidden television screen above the fireplace.
Father and son look at the screen with trepidation that quickly turns to horror when a single image appears a second later. The color drains from their faces as reality smacks them.
It’s his guy. The same piece of shit I personally killed less than forty-eight hours ago.
“Why are—”
“No more lies. No more playing dumb.” The next photo is a close-up of his injuries. Each deep gash my knife made. Another shows his lifeless eyes and the gunshot wound that killed him. I leave the last one up. “Before you leave today, I want you to take a single lesson with you.”
“Please let—”
“I know everything that happens in my city. Each move you make. Each breath you take.”
