Page 89 of The Liar

I wasn’t sure I could watch them do this again, even if it was what he wanted. What if they left it too long and he passed out?

What if he drowned? Could I live with that?

Sure, I didn’t know as many of the details of the operation as West did, but I knew some. Possibly enough to make them stop.

Sewell pushed him backward, and West only just caught himself before his head cracked against the concrete floor.

The dirty detective’s mouth twisted. “Do you know how I confirmed that you’re not really a bartender?” he asked West, rounding on him. “I just showed a photo of you to my brother, and lo-and-behold, it turns out you were with the cop he took out last year. A little more digging, and I realized he’s your dear departed dad.”

“Don’t talk about my father,” West hissed, his eyes gleaming with fury.

Sewell cocked his head. “Don’t you want to know who pulled the trigger?”

“Your brother,” West ground out.

“Yes.” Sewell’s lips quirked. “Clever. Dirk?”

The man in black stepped forward. My heart dropped.

He had killed West’s dad.

Now that Sewell brought my attention to him, his military bearing was undeniable.

West’s eyes shot fire at Dirk Sewell but he didn’t say a word.

Detective Sewell huffed. “I was really hoping you’d be one of those people who run their mouths when they’re angry. I guess I’ll have to try another tactic.” He turned to me. “Lee, apologies for assuming you were the weak link in this arrangement. I shouldn’t have said that just because you’re a woman. Let’s try this all again, shall we?”

He closed the distance between us in three steps, grabbed me by the arm and jammed the knife into the fleshy part of my left shoulder. Searing pain tore through me.

I bit through the soft interior of my lower lip and swallowed a scream. I stared at the blade, embedded in my shoulder, and resisted the urge to try to yank it out after he let go. Doing so would only worsen the bleeding and possibly cause more damage.

“Jo!” West shouted, drawing my attention. His face was pale, his eyes full of horror. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I got you into this.”

I didn’t respond because, really, what was there to say? I wished we weren’t in this situation too, but wishing and praying wouldn’t do us any good right now.

23

JOANNA

Sewell smiled. “How sweet. He cares. Let’s aim for something more important next.”

My mind blacked out for a millisecond as he ripped the knife out of my shoulder. He scanned me from head to toe, as if deciding what part of a prime cut of meat he wanted for himself.

“Or, we could go old-fashioned,” he mused to Dirk.

“A finger?” Dirk asked.

Sewell nodded. “It sends a message without killing her.”

Fuck. My heart sped up.

I didn’t want to lose a finger, even though they were right that it wouldn’t be fatal. I’d seen enough torture victims to know how painful it was.

“Put your hand on the ground,” Sewell ordered. “Fingers wide.”

Shaking, I lowered myself down and splayed my left hand on the concrete, the other tucked behind it. I gritted my teeth through the pain. Putting my right hand forward would have hurt less, but I’d rather lose a finger on my left hand than my right one.

“Hold her,” Sewell ordered his brother.

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