Page 149 of Seeking Vengeance

Layla mutters a curse.

“And how do you know?” I turn my attention to Salvo, the asshole who promised Remy hadn’t spilled.

“I didn’t say a damn thing.” He glances to his father. “We were going to tell you once Remy returned.”

“Of course you were, son. But I have faster ways to gain information.”

Faster?

Emmanuel could only have learned the news from Remy. Bishop wouldn’t betray me. And Layla hasn’t left my sight.

Unless… “You have someone listening in on their calls.” I grin at Salvatore. “I bet that’s comforting.”

The muscles in his jaw tic.

“I watch my children more than most.” Emmanuel drags in a deep breath and lowers the mask. “You’re never too old to need guidance.”

“I bet. But the guidance you offered two years ago has placed your ass in a hospital bed with the Grim Reaper stalking your shadow. So maybe your leadership skills need a tweak or two. Don’t you think?”

“I’m not scared of Cole Torian. Enemies are the price you pay for power and money. And he’s merely a pup. Nowhere near the type of cutthroat businessman his father was.”

“My father was a sex trafficker,” Layla snaps. “Cole would never aspire to be anything like him.”

“And that’s why he’s weak. Are you as pathetic, my sweet?”

“I’ll show you how pathetic I can be.” She storms closer, but I block her path.

“Don’t let him provoke you,” I growl under my breath. “You’re smarter than that.”

“How smart can she be?” Emmanuel wheezes another chuckle. “She didn’t even know your real identity until this morning.”

I grab her wrist as she takes another thunderous step, willing her to ignore him with my strong grip.

“I can promise you, your daughter showed far more tenacity in the face of adversity than you are,” he continues.

“Dad,” Abri warns.

“She was a real little spitfire when we first got hold of her. We had a great time, though. In fact, I’d really love to see her again. I should—”

Layla screams, yanking her arm from my grip to barge past me like wildfire. She charges for Emmanuel, her face turning red, her hand shoving into her jeans pocket in search of something.

Shit. The fucking cyanide.

I lunge for her, grabbing her upper arms from behind as guns are drawn by the guards, Salvo, and Remy. My men follow suit in opposition.

“I’ll kill you, you fucking prick.” Layla thrashes and bucks against my hold. “I’ll kill every single one of you.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Remy levels his barrel on her.

“Come on now.” Bishop holds up a hand in placation, his weapon pointed at Emmanuel. “Nobody wants to lose blood over this.”

She continues to thrash and scramble, rampant and manic. “Let me go, you bastard.”

“Stop it.” I smother her against my chest. “Calm down.”

I stalk her from the room, Bishop hot on my trail as he walks backward to cover his ass. My anger is barely bottled as I guide her into the far wall, pressing her chest into the plaster before closing in behind her.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” I clamp both her wrists in one hand and use the other to delve into her pocket, retrieving the vial of fucking cyanide. “What was the plan?” I growl in her ear. “You’d sprinkle some magic fairy dust and try to kill us all?”

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