Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
I scowl at the information. Most likely, Oleg still hired the man, but I would have liked a more solid tie. Doesn’t matter. Neither man is leaving here alive, even if Oleg isn’t the one who hired him.
My father has left me to the interrogations while he prepares for the war this is going to start. Oleg’s family is going to retaliate. They’re probably already preparing to since Oleg hasn’t returned from the meeting and it’s been several hours. Maybe Nina is experiencing some of the fear I’m feeling about my missing fiancée.
I’ll send her father’s head to her.
For mourning, of course.
“There’s a chance Emma got away and went into hiding with Matteo,” Andy says. I suck in a deep breath. The idea has occurred to me. Not only were the two captors incapacitated, but one of the off-roading vehicles is missing. No cars have come on or off the property, but there is the possibility the recreational vehicle would have been able to slip onto the neighbors’ property undetected. But once Emma got far enough away from the living room with the jammer, then she would have been able to use her cell phone again to call me. She hasn’t. This means if she got away, not only is she running away from her captors, but she’s running away from me as well.
I don’t like the thought. Everyone is thinking about it, but no one besides Andy has been brave enough to bring it up with me. Other uncomfortable questions get attached to that line of thinking. Like, will I let her go?
No. I’ll bring her back and chain her to my bed if I have to.
“Let's focus on this. We’ll start with baldy.”
Chapter Forty- Enzo
“You know, if you want him to talk, you might ask a question instead of just beating him senseless,” Andy suggests from the corner of the interrogation room. Baldy’s face is bloody, his nose is crooked, and he’s sporting two black eyes. I haven’t said a word since I stepped into the room.
“He knows what I want, and what he needs to say to get me to end this. Don’t you, baldy? Or do you prefer Mr. Mikhaylov?”
“I’ve met preschoolers who have better insults,” Ivan spits at me. His Russian accent is thick, which matches the information Andy found about him. Officially, he came to America on a work visa. The restaurant he was a chef at was a cover for a hitman operation. Somehow, he’s gained citizenship. I wonder what politician he has blackmailed for it.
“And I’ve met preschoolers smarter than you.”
Another kick to the gut. It’s therapeutic, and that’s the only reason I haven’t switched over to my tools and the more creative methods of torture. I give Andy’s suggestion the benefit of the doubt. Maybe our contract killer needs a little more direction to open up.
“How did you end up unconscious on my living room floor?”
He doesn’t answer. He tries to spit at me, but his mouth is so swollen it doesn’t properly work. As much as I've enjoyed the interrogation so far, Emma and Matteo are missing, so I need some real fucking answers out of this shithead.
I don’t move him from the chair, I just knock it to the ground and cover his face this a cloth. When he realizes what’s happening, he struggles against me. Andy passes me the hose.
After thirty seconds, I kink the hose and stop the water, ripping the cloth off his face. “How did you end up unconscious on my living room floor?”
“It was that fucking bitch. She threw a vase at my head.”
It doesn’t take much to identify who he means by “that fucking bitch” and while I’m not fond of the language used to describe her, I’m proud of her for being able to take out a man so much bigger than her. Once I get her home, I’ll reward her heavily for it.
“What were you doing in my house to begin with?”
He doesn’t answer right away and I don’t hesitate to throw the cloth back over his face. When he feels the wet fabric, he scrambles to answer. It’s too late. The water from the hose is cold as it drenches the rag covering his face. When I’m done, he gasps for breaths of air.
“Answer quicker when I ask you a question. Why were you in my house?”
“We were supposed to grab the bitch and her bitch-ass kid. Keep them alive and bring them to a warehouse where we would collect our money.”
He needs to learn to watch his mouth. I’d make him wash it out with soap, but since he won’t be leaving this basement alive, its a moot point. I’ll cut his tongue out instead.
“Who gave you the job?”
“I don’t know his fucking name, but he said he would make sure the house was empty, and grabbing her would be a straightforward job. Said she’d probably come with us willingly to get away from her dickhead fiancé.”