Page 95 of Love Him Like Water

It made sense that, whoever was behind this, was recruiting kids still in, or fresh out of, of high school.

They were a fuckuva lot easier to talk into shit. Full of ambition and a bone-deep belief that they were invincible. And likely not truly understanding how organized crime worked. How at risk he was by trying to make a move against me.

“Go on then,” the kid said, angling his chin up like an invitation. “Believe me, I’ve had worse.”

“Who are you working for?”

To that, his lips curved up, his dark green eyes taking on a devilish light. “Myself.”

Cocky fucker.

“Let’s try this again. Who told you to be a Lombardi bagman?”

“You know… seem to have some amnesia, man,” he said.

This asshole.

I almost wanted to respect him.

If he didn’t possess the information about the rat in my organization, I would.

“Alright then,” I said, sucking in a deep breath as I curled my fist, and struck.

His head whipped to the side as the crack of the punch filled the room.

“That all you got?” he asked, turning back to face me, a smirk tugging at his lips.

My gaze flicked up to Dav standing behind him, knowing him well enough to communicate shit without saying a word.

This guy wasn’t going to crack easily.

An hour later, I had blood on my hands, smattering my shoes. There was a tooth on the floor, and blood steadily trickling down the kids face. From a gash near his eye. From his lip and mouth. Bruises were already starting to form.

He didn’t scream.

Didn’t try to call for help.

Didn’t beg for mercy.

No.

This fucker kept taunting me.

Then Dav when I tagged him in.

Even bloodied and bruised, he kept angling his head back, inviting more abuse, his green eyes indifferent.

“Who—“ I started, then got distracted by my phone ringing.

I reached for it, seeing Elian’s name, then turning it to silent, before tucking it away again.

It vibrated once, then Dav had tagged me back in, his knuckles broken open already because that man never pulled a punch in his life. When he let himself uncage that other part of himself, he was ruthless as fuck.

It wasn’t until the door flew open, and Rico was standing there, that I realized something was wrong.

“What is it?” I asked, tensing.

“It’s Elian,” Rico said, his phone to his ear.

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