Page 12 of Cruel Devil

Vito wiggles his hand. “About?—”

I snap my fingers, and he cocks an offended eyebrow at me in return.

“You want her to know how far away from Doc’s house we are?” I mutter.

He purses his lips, nodding slowly when he pieces it together.

Strawberry makes an angry sound in the back of her throat. “That’s not why I’m asking. Ten minutes, and I should be okay. Twenty minutes, and we’re looking at a concussion. Possibly even swelling on the brain.”

I hold out a hand, tilting my head to the side. “Relax. Some aspirin and you’ll be right as fucking rain.”

She glares at me for this, but her face clears the moment I hinge at the hips to put our eyes on the same level.

“Now who the fuck are you?”

“You don’t scare me,” she says, despite the flickering unease in her eyes as she tries to keep both me and Vito in sight. He’s pacing up and down beside her, squinting like he’s trying to remember if he left the iron on.

I reach instinctively for my jacket pocket to get my knife out, then I remember I’m not wearing my fucking jacket. I snap my fingers at Vito instead. When he just stands there staring at Strawberry, I pin him with a long-suffering stare.

He widens his eyes, shrugging.

“Give me something to hurt her with,” I grind out.

“I’m not part of the cartel,” she says calmly.

“Which cartel aren’t you part of?”

“Any of them. I’m a civilian.”

I huff through my nose as Vito walks back, my eyes fixed on the woman’s. She’s younger than I thought, maybe two years older than me. The more I look at her, the more familiar she seems.

It’s fucking haunting me.

When I hold out my hand, Vito puts a red leather flogger in it. I stare at it, then at him, then at the woman.

“I’m nobody!” she blurts out, her eyes growing wild. She yanks at the ropes holding her in place. “Please!”

That’s more like it.

“I swear to God, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!” she yells, frantic.

Never thought a fucking whip could cause this much panic, but I’m leaning into it. For fuck’s sake, he should know better, but he seems distracted. Maybe he took offense at the whole rope thing.

I’ll talk to Vito about appropriate torture devices later. Possibly while using some of them on him to demonstrate.

I flick the whip, catching Strawberry on the side of her leg. I doubt she can even feel it through her jeans, but she flinches and lets out a terrified whimper, her eyes practically bulging out of her head.

“Wrong place, wrong time? No shit. At the scene of a murder, with blood on your clothes.”

“Then there’s the gun, of course,” Vito adds.

“Of course I had a gun!” She squirms in her chair as I flick the whip, getting ready to use it again. “It’s a dangerous fucking neighborhood!”

“She’s not wrong,” Vito murmurs, as he goes to stand behind her.

When I glare at him, he lifts his hands and steps back like I’m about to explode. I guess I’m giving off some dangerous vibes, because even Strawberry is biting the inside of her lip, watching me like she’s expecting her life to be over soon.

“Name.”

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