Page 109 of Crush

“I need something from you,” I blurted, attempting to swallow the huge lump my earlier cockiness had put in my throat.

He contemplated my words before replying, “If you’re thinking about trying to blackmail me for what you witnessed at the vault, I’d advise you to reconsider.”

“Do I look like I’m stupid?” I barked out, shocked that he thought I hadthatlevel of guts.

A derisive curl to his upper lip appeared as he watched me, “Do youreallywant me to answer that?”

We stared at each other for a beat or two before I explained. “I come in peace, I’m not your enemy.”

His lip curled with genuine amusement, “I know you’re not. To be my enemy, you’d have to be at my level and you fall considerably short of that. You’re an annoyance who thinks he has somethingonme.” And I did but I wasn’t about to go down that route. I’d seen what happened in the movies when people tried toblackmail the mob. Concrete shoes never looked good on anyone. I was Italian leather all the way.

His expression told me he didn’t give a shit either way. It would take someone more powerful than me to ruffle this fucker. I had never met anyone as cocksure, “You’re wrong, I’m not here to blackmail you either.”

Cracking his tatted knuckles, he shot me a disinterested glare. “Wise decision. This should be good. So, what the fuck do you want?” His fingers started to drum against the desk and it was unnerving.

And there it was. Time to get down to business. Kinlan was lounging in the chair opposite, but he didn’t appear relaxed, more frustrated by my presence; like a tightly wound coil that could spring open at any moment.

I pushed back into the body of my seat, attempting to look at ease.

“I need your help.” Releasing those four words intothisenvironment made me feel like I had just signed my life away in blood.

His jaw started to tick. Not a good sign. “I hate to crush your expectations but do Ilooklike I run a fucking charity?” His expression was the same type I received from Gabriel when he’d had enough of my piss-taking attempts.

“I’m not asking for a handout. I have a business proposition for you.” My voice was much calmer than it had been in my head.

Kinlan’s lips twisted into the shadow of a smile, “A business proposition? One connected to your girlfriend from the vault I presume.”

My brow crunched up, “No, it’s nothing to do with Leonie.”

“I was talking about Gabriel Knight, the guy you have a boner for?” Kinlan replied with a sneer on his face. His insult failed to have the effect he wanted. If I let my temper get the better of me, this meeting was fucked before it even started. I knew he would try and push me so that I’d lose control. That was part of the mafia’s MO.

I carefully schooled my features. “Look, it’s nothing to do with them or that night.” My mention of it must have reminded him of his injury as he shifted in his seat and pressed a hand to his side. This drew my gaze.

“How’s the wound by the way? Does it still tickle?” I asked, playing down his injury. Probably not good to provoke him on purpose but I could be a cocky twat too.

Kinlan shot me a dirty look. “It did more than tickle you cheeky little fucker, but I’ll live.” I must admit, his comment brought a smile to my lips as little was something I had never been called, even at thirteen when I’d been just shy of six feet tall.

“I assume you found her. Your sister?”

A dark look passed over his face and I knew I’d crossed a line.

“She isn’t my sister fucknut. Look, I’m seriously trying not to put a bullet in your head, so I would suggest you stop testing me,” he grunted, a muscle in his jaw started to tick and he pulled his jacket back to reveal he was packing. Oh dear.

Moving his hand back to the desk, Kinlan then rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck from side to side, “You now have five seconds to explain why you’re here before I shoot you. So. Make. It. Good.”

His threat didn’t worry me. I knew from Gabriel that this guy was a mean fucker but he did havesomemoral code. He wouldn’t harm anyone who wasn’t a threat. At least, I didn’t think he would.

A muscle flexed in his jaw, “Well, spill it.”

I washed a hand down my face, “I’m getting there oh ye of little faith,” I snarked, annoyed by the fact that he was rushing me. He really was a first-class arsehole but I needed him and his army of thugs; the enemy of my enemy and all that shite

Save me from Irish gangsters with a God complex!

Kinlan watched me with a soulless, impersonal stare. “Faith is for pussies. I’m a nihilist.”

Of course, you are, silly me.

I cut to the chase, “Do you know a man named Alexander Harker?”

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