Page 51 of Consumed By the Mafia

Rush hadn’t really wanted to talk. He ran his mouth a lot, but they’d had to wade through a lot of nothing to find words of substance.

Abigail had made several marks on her digital notepad while Ryoma worked. The one thing Rush did like to do when he was running his mouth was hurl insults and derogatory words—at them, at the De Salvos, even at the Irish. The latter of which she suspectedRyoma found more entertaining than anything else.

Ryoma’s preset alarm went off, startling their captive and sharpening Abigail’s focus. Ryoma himself immediately straightened, dropping the hold he had on Rush’s chain and letting Rush’s arms go slack. “Looks like our time here is done, Rush,” Ryoma said as he silenced the device. “Now you sit there, and you wait.”

Rush let out a groan. If he’d been aiming for aggravated, he’d fallen short. Probably because of the various careful cuts and handful of precisely broken bones surely still radiating pain throughout his body. “Wait … for what?”

The smirk that lifted Ryoma’s lips this time was far more dangerous than his usual expression. “My boss.”

Abigail was pretty sure she knew what he meant, and she still found herself suppressing a shiver at his answer.

So she understood when Rush’s eyes blew wide for the first time in hours. “Wha—Fuck, no! I’ll talk. I’ll—”

Ryoma moved back. “Too late for that.” He turned his head toward her. “Know where you put that gag?”

Abigail tucked her phone into her pocket and moved over to the shelf where she’d rested the impromptu gag from before. She was the one who’d volunteered to be the assistant in this. She was the one who’d landed them both in their current mess. So she had no right to feel any degree of apprehension. It didn’t matter that the whole scene went against everything she’d been taught.

“Wait,” Rush said, his voice filled with urgency, as Abigailapproached with the gag. He eyed her only briefly before returning his focus to Ryoma. “Wait, wait. I—”

Ryoma folded his arms across his chest. “I already told you, it’s too late for—”

“I know where Cezar is!” He pushed his weight away from Abigail, staring at Ryoma almost imploringly.

Ryoma shot out a hand, latching onto Abigail’s shoulder to hold her in place. His voice was sharp when he spoke, his words directed at the man he’d been prying little answers from for hours. “That’s the kind of shit you should have been giving me to start, dumbfuck. Tell me what you know.”

Rush swallowed visibly, his gaze darting to the lone door before returning to Ryoma. “J-just please don’t … fuckin’ burn me.”

Abigail barely kept her mouth from gaping open.Thatwas what broke him, after everything else? After all his bravado?

Her memory flashed back to the moment in time when she’d stood in front of an angry Dante De Salvo, his fury briefly aimed at her. Of course, there were people in the world who were simply afraid of fire. But anyone with a sliver of a survival instinct would fear that man, or at least the potential of him. She had to respect that.

“Talk. Now.” Ryoma’s words were in response to Rush’s plea. He gave no indication that he was willing to negotiate, let alone that the Dragon himself was not the De Salvo they were expecting.

Rush sagged on the floor, his head hanging. “Bloomfield,” he said, voice little more than a whisper. “He lives in Bloomfield.”

Ryoma released Abigail’s shoulder and stepped forward, grabbing Rush by the chin and jerking his head up at an awkward angle, forcing the chained and bleeding gangster to meet his glare. “Give me the address, or I will recommend you burnslow.”

Rush dragged in a loud, rasping breath. Something like a tremor rolled through him. He rattled off an address, barely loud enough for Abigail to hear.

She purposefully repeated it to herself, committing the information to memory, and the door to the room swung open. Abigail looked over, unsurprised but still not entirely comforted by the sight of Mikey De Salvo striding toward them.

Ryoma released Rush and again took a step back, pulling Abigail back with him.

“No, no—what the fuck is this?” Rush demanded, his eyes wild as he snapped his stare between them repeatedly.

Mikey tilted his head faintly to one side and glanced toward Ryoma. “You didn’t tell him I was coming?”

“I did.” Ryoma shrugged. “Seems he made the assumption I meant someone else.” A grin lifted his lips that probably ought to have frightened her, but Abigail found she had developed a very inappropriate reaction to that expression. “For most of the day this asshole’s just been spouting stupid insults and slipping in small things we may not even need. Like how he was lookin’ for me, specifically, because he thinks I’m the guy who iced his bestie.”

Rush jolted forward. “You—”

“Gag him,” Mikey said, projecting his voice over the protesting Ink Blot.

It wasn’t until Mikey’s stare locked onto her that Abigail realized the instruction was for her. She’d completely forgotten she was holding the makeshift item. She nodded and pushed herself forward, succeeding in strapping it around Rush’s head before getting the bulbous portion shoved effectively into his mouth. Of course, the pain in the ass managed to bite her hand in the process.

“Ow!” Abigail yanked her hand away and gave it a reflexive shake. “Asshole,” she muttered. Still, her job was done, so she stepped back. Only as she did so did she hear herself and process the scene in her mind. Yeah, Rush had bitten her—not even hard enough to draw blood—but he was inarguably the victim in this immediate situation. She was contributing to his suffering. And yet her reaction to his defensive tactic had been anger for herself.

She didn’t realize Ryoma and Mikey had continued talking until the sounds of their voices ceased and Ryoma’s presence settled at her shoulder, looming over and surrounding her. It was an oddly equal sense of ominous weight and the promise of protection. His voice was rough in a way that perfectly matched that feeling when he asked, “Something wrong, baby girl?”

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