Page 88 of Break the Ice
Blackman picks up his pace. We walk across the pavement to the last limo parked against the curb. His driver sits behind the wheel like a trained dog.
“Howie, why don’t you take a break?” Blackman says.
The driver gives a nod and then gets out to give us privacy. He leaves the car running so that we’ll be able to enjoy the amenities the limo provides.
I slide into the back after Blackman. The interior’s sleek and polished with cushy leather seating. Blackman’s initials are stamped on everything in black and gold.
“Nice limo,” I say. “But I would’ve preferred the table in the restaurant. Everybody should hear about their close business associate being a slimy piece of shit.”
He grits his teeth. “I’ve had about enough of your back talk, Golding. Hawk might’ve put up with it, but you won’t get away with that here.”
“Back talk,” I repeat. Then I laugh. “You want to talk about back talk, Quig?”
SMACK!
Blackman grunts as I bitch slap him into last week. He tumbles back against the limo’s leather cushioning, his eyes spacey and vacant. A red imprint of my hand glows on his cheek.
He comes to with a jolt, then an indignant growl. “What the hell’s a matter with you? Do you ever not go around acting like a wild animal?”
“You forget who you’re dealing with, Quig? I’m a wolf. The alpha of the pack,” I answer. My grin darkens. “You must not get I’m a predator—I’ll rip your fucking throat out before you can even piss your pants. Listen up.”
Blackman shrieks and leans back as I leap forward. My fists grip him by the front of his dinner jacket, and I wrench him toward me ’til our noses are almost touching and I bare my teeth at him.
“I’m going to keep it real fucking simple. You’ve got five seconds to tell me you’ll stop, or I end you. Are we clear?”
When three of the five seconds tick by and he still hasn’t answered, I snap. I grip him by the back of the neck and drive his face into the backseat TV screen.
Blackman twitches against me, his brow split open. Blood trickles down the slope of his nose by the time I let him up. “You fucking lunatic!” he spits. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”
I slam my fist into his ribs and relish the pained groan he releases. “Marisse March—you’ve been threatening her. Blackmailing her!”
He spits more blood out. “What transpires between us is none of your damn business! ARGH!”
His scream fills the limo as I yank him down to the floor and snatch the knife off the minibar panel. I press the blade to his long, knobby throat and let a few drops of blood bubble out.
“You sure about that? Because I’m thinking it’s my business. Marisse March is my damn business. This is your only warning—stay the fuck away from her and you’ll live to see another day. Keep it up, and I cut your fucking dick off.”
Blackman’s bushy brows press together. Tension works his jaw. He grits his blood-stained teeth up at me. “Your threats mean nothing, Golding. Hawk being dead’s the best thing to ever happen to me. And, guess what? All I needed next was for you to go. The big troublemaker on the team with so much influence you have half the team under your command. You’re a nuisance. Nobody could get a handle on the team ‘til you were out of the way.”
“You sent those guys to take me out so you could have control of the team?”
“Why else would I? All that’s left after Hawk were Beringer, your father and you. Beringer’s been cracking under pressure and you’re so reckless, you’re possibly one of the easiest targets to get rid of,” he explains with a gleam of triumph. “But you’re too busy beating your fists into your chest to realize you’re not going to stop what’s already in motion. Even without my plan to get rid of you, you won’t be saving her. That’s what you don’t realize. It’s too late.”
“Save her from what?”
Blackman drips with smugness as he holds this piece of info over my head. He’s savoring every last second he gets to dangle the carrot.
“It’s her fault for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She’s not the first slut to screw Hawk for a job—she just happened to be the one that had to take the fall. It doesn’t matter whether she did it or not. She’s the one who has been picked to go down. It’s been fun watching you try to save her.”
“From who? WHO?”
He gives a taunting, bloody-gummed laugh. “Like I’d ever tell you. I’m taking that to my grave?—”
“Then let me help you.”
I jam the knife into Blackman’s throat all the way to the hilt. His nostrils flare as his eyes go wide with surprise and blood gushes everywhere.
He fights the onset of death for as long as he can before his body jerks and he gives in.
