Page 98 of Devil's Tulip

We end the call, and I shoot out a text to my lawyer, laying out exactly what I want him to present to Peter—my non-negotiable conditions spelled out in explicit detail. His reply comes almost instantly, as it should. I don’t pay him an obscene amount for anything less than absolute availability.

Hank Templeton

The place isn’t worth that amount, Michael. We could cut the price in half and it still wouldn’t be worth it.

I don’t care. Close the deal.

Loretto is the only hospital close to my house with owners desperate enough to agree to my terms. If it speeds up the process, I don’t mind throwing in more money than it’s worth to sweeten the deal for them.

We reach the club in a little over thirty minutes, and this time, I don’t bother slipping through the backdoor. It didn’t quite work the last time anyway, so what’s the point?

Even though it’s still early evening, the club teems with bodies—mostly lowlifes drawn to this seedy part of Brooklyn. The air reeks of booze and sweat, the music blaring to the rafters.It’s not quite as beautiful and elegant as Rafael’s, but it suited my purposes a couple of years ago—and so I frequented it.

I’m not proud of everything I did back then. Some of it cemented my reputation as crazy. But I don’t regret the image it gave me. If it means people know to leave me the fuck alone, then good.

And judging by the way the crowd parts like the Red Sea as they see me and my men approach, that reputation is still very much alive. I keep my gaze locked on my phone, glancing up only occasionally as I track my prey.

Then a pair of red, strappy heels crosses my line of sight.

I’m frowning before I even look up at their owner. “Evie,” I say tonelessly.

One of the girls I used to fuck around with back in the day. I favored her more than the others because of her boldness and fearlessness. She was willing to try anything.

Tonight, that trait is nothing but an irritation.

“Michael Hart.” She flashes what she probably thinks is a seductive smile. “What are you doing on my turf? Finally missed me and came back for more of this?” She palms her tits and jiggles them.

I don’t take the bait. My gaze stays firmly on her eyes. “Get out of my way, Evie,” I say impatiently, raising my left hand so she can clearly see the wedding band I haven’t taken off since Gianna slid it onto my finger a few days ago.

She scoffs. “And so? You think that’s supposed to deter me? You know how many married men come in here, thirsty for pussy that isn’t their boring wife’s?” She takes a step closer, reaching for my chest.

Big mistake.

I grab her wrist before she can make contact, gripping tight enough to hurt. She lets out a small, startled cry, and I use my free hand to adjust my jacket—just enough for her to see the gunholstered on my hip. “You really don’t want to fuck with me right now.”

Her eyes widen, and I let her go. She stumbles back, cradling her wrist, muttering, “Crazy motherfucker,” before scurrying away.

Damn right.

Lorenzo growls, starting after her with murder in his eyes, but I place a restraining hand on his shoulder. “She’s not worth it.”

I glance down at my phone, my pulse kicking up for half a second. Did my prey run while I was distracted with that bullshit?

No. They’re still here. They haven’t moved.

We follow the tracker to a backroom, meeting no resistance from the bouncers or management. Inside, we find the bastards absorbed in an intense game of poker with some unknown fifth man. Their heads snap up as we enter, eyes going wide.

Then, like the cowards they are, they try to run, just like they did the last time.

But tonight, there’s nowhere to run. I’ve made sure of it.

I take my gun out of its holster and fire.

The unknown man drops. So do two of the original four. Blood splatters across the poker table, staining the cards mid-game.

The last two are frozen in place, scared shitless.

I point my gun directly at the head of the fourth man. “Tell me everything about the drugs you’re selling, or you’ll join your fallen comrades.”

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