Page 478 of The Sinner: James

“Who sent you here, motherfucker?” I thunder, slamming his head against the floor again.

“The Azarians.”

“Who are the Azarians?”

“The people I work for.”

“And what are you looking for?”

He stays quiet and only groans from time to time.

“Don’t make me lose my patience, Oleg.”

“A man. I’m looking for a man. Tiago Rossi.”

I let go of him and push to my feet.

“Stand up,” I order, taking a step back.

He pulls upright.

Dazed, he touches the back of his head.

“Stand up,” I shout.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“Up.”

He shifts his position and slowly pushes up.

“American?” he mutters.

“What was your first clue?”

He swings his eyes to the door.

“Don’t even fucking think about it. My men are waiting for you outside.”

He lifts his eyebrows, surprised.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Your worst nightmare. Now get in the fucking kitchen,” I say, motioning to the room at the end of the hallway.

Dragging his feet, he heads that way.

Moments later, we enter the room.

I kick a chair away from the table and gesture at him.

“Sit,” I order as I turn on the light above the table.

He crashes into his seat, his eyes flying at me as I pull a cigarette from the pack inside the pocket and toss my jacket on the second chair.

His eyes peel wide, his mouth falling open as the cone of light glows over me.

“Who the hell are you?” he asks, looking at me dumbfounded.

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