Page 63 of Vengeful Union

“Remember me, asshole?” We are far enough away from the others that they can’t hear us unless he screams.

“R-Rory,” he stutters, twisting his head to look at me. “What are you doing here?”

I shrug. “Just passing by, saw you here, and thought I’d ask you what the fuck you thought you were doing with Lara Burke.”

He snorts. “It's none of your business what I was doing with Lara Burke.”

I let out a short breath through my nostrils, trying to calm myself. “That’s where you’re wrong, boyo. Lara Burke is now Lara Murphy. She’s mywife.”

I loosen my grip on him, and he turns, frowning. “So what? It doesn’t mean anything. A Burke isn’t fit to be a Murphy. You’re just doing it to piss off Patrick.”

“I need to know if my father treats all women this way, or if this was all you.”

He rolls his eyes. “What’s your problem, anyway? She’s just aBurke. Filth. Less than human.”

“I bet a guy like you thinks all women are less than human.”

“Well, they’re not like us, that’s for sure.”

My head hurts, my heart beating in my ears.

“Tell me what orders you were under.”

“You can’t ask your father? Aren’t you daddy’s little boy?”

I slam him up against the wall again, and he gulps, looking around.

“Who are you looking for? There’s no one around to save you. No one gives a shit. I’m Rory Murphy. I could slit your throat right now, and no one would say boo.”

His Adam’s apple bobs. “You wouldn’t.”

“You want to try me, or do you want to tell me what I want to know?”

“He said to keep her safe. He didn’t say don’t touch her.”

“Does he usually allow his men to touch women like that?”

He pushes me away roughly.

I stumble backward, and he throws a punch at me, catching me high up on the cheekbone.

A bloom of pain sweeps through my jaw, but it doesn’t knock me out. Unlucky for him.

I draw my knife out of the spine sheath I keep it in and press it to his throat, pricking his skin so that blood slowly begins to trickle down to pool in his collarbone.

“What are you doing?” he asks in a strained voice.

“I’m getting you to tell me what I want to know, Scott. It’s not that complicated. You talk, and I don’t cut you to ribbons.”

“Your father?—”

“Is my father here?” I look around mockingly. “Looks like he’s not. Too bad for you.”

“Fine.” He huffs, licking his lips. “What do you want to know?”

“Does he allow you to touch women like that? Like you did with Lara?”

“He always says that once the job is done, the product doesn’t matter to him,” Scott says, and the words sound so much like my father that it makes me physically ill.

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