Page 76 of Wicked Truths

“How are you so calm? He’s been with Francesca, and he tried to kidnap her tonight. Why aren’t you begging to rip him limb from limb?”

I shrug. “Shooting him helped a little, like rage therapy, but underneath the surface, I’m still pissed. Besides, Chessie is a grown woman, and we weren’t together. Do I like that he’s touched her or made herhappy? No, but it’s something I have to deal with and accept.”

“That’s bullshit. She never should have left.” He gets up and heads toward the stairs to the main floor of their house.

“That wasn’t our decision to make, and I’ll never make her feel guilty for choosing to leave and pursue a degree. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need some answers.”

He doesn’t say anything as I push past him and head to the large metal door. I enter my personal code on the keypad and push the heavy door open.

I wait until the door is shut behind me to step deeper into the dark room.

There’s only one light on and it’s the one directly over the man slumped in the foldable metal chair.

His arms and legs are zip tied to the chair. His leg is bandaged, like someone medically treated him. It had to be Joey or Spencer. They are the only two, besides me, that know how to treat a gunshot wound.

My footsteps echo off the concrete floor.

The man snaps his head up as I get closer. His blank expression turns into a smirk as I step into the light. He cracks a hollow laugh as I step up to his chair.

“Did they really send their worst shooter in here to interview me?” His gaze flicks down to his gunshot wound.

I scoff. “I’m not the worst shooter. The only reason you are alive right now is because I need answers.”

“You’ll have to find them somewhere else. I’m nota rat. I take my oath very seriously, and if you were a real mafia man, you would know what happens once you betray your family.”

My fist flies through the air before connecting with his cheek. He acts as if the punch was a feather hitting him, despite the angry red mark growing on his face.

Damn, it felt good to wipe that smirk off his face. I might not be a real mafia man, but I’d do anything to protect Francesca and her family.

“Let’s try this again. I’ll ask you a question and you answer it. If you don’t, I will inflict more and more pain. You got it?”

He doesn’t answer or nod his head. Instead, he spits out a mouthful of blood.

I take a few steps away from him. “I’ll take that as a yes. Let’s start with an easy one. What’s your name?”

He stares at me, blinking from the bright light, but he doesn’t answer my question.

“I’ll give you one last chance to tell me what your name is before-”

He sits up straighter in his chair and squares his shoulders. “Before what? You punch me again? I’m not afraid of you. I know your type. You’re a sucker. Always have been. Always will be.”

My fist lands on his opposite cheek, causing his head to snap to the side. My knuckles sting and when I look down, I see my own blood seeping from the cuts.

“Do you want to answer now?”

His jaw clenches as he takes a deep breath.

I wait a few seconds before throwing another punch. I put more effort into this punch as it lands on the left side of his mouth. Blood spurts out as his lip splits open.

“Jax.” He says before leaning forward and spitting out more blood.

“Jax what?” I growl out.

He’s just fucking with me. I don’t have the patience for this right now.

He glares at me, like he wishes the roles were reversed.

“Jax Brown.”

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