Page 62 of Daddy's Oath
“You can’t just do this!” one of the hired thugs growled.
He, like his colleagues, had his hands secured behind his back by zip-ties. They were all in the large parlor that probably served as the planning room and lounge area when they were around, sort of like the den at the Guard’s mansion, Ace figured.
Only this place had a better view, he had to admit. The way it was perched on a cliff made for some spectacular scenery out the floor-to-ceiling glass that made up the west-facing wall.
“Looks like we did,” Ace said. “Now, we need some info and you’re going to give it.”
“What the fu?—”
“Watch your language,” Ace snapped. “A couple of nights ago someone in this firm broke into a young woman’s apartment up on Whitley in Hollywood. Why?”
Of course, Ace didn’t know it was someone from the firm who’d done it. It could have very well been someone from the gang’s LA branch. But he was taking a stab at this, going off a hunch.
The thug he’d directed his question to didn’t deny anything.
“We don’t divulge our client list.”
“So you admit it was you,” Ace said. He looked at Jack and then Kendric. “You two hear that? They did it.”
“I didn’t say that!” the man spat.
It was Ryan who spoke next. “You know, it’s illegal to break into someone’s apartment. Even if someone hires you to do it. So this protecting your client bullshit means nothing. Just means you’re willing to go down for them while they walk away free.”
One of the other thugs on the floor laughed. “It’s illegal to break into someone’s place? You don’t say. Huh.”
Ace actually laughed. “Oh, we see the irony in this. We just don’t care.” He reached for Ryan’s shotgun. Ryan handed it over.Ace worked the side, the chilling sound jarring in the heavy quietness of the tense room.
This seemed to get everyone’s attention.
“Look!” the first thug yelled. “It doesn’t matter. We had a client, but the contract ends at midnight tonight.”
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you that!”
Ace moved the tip of the gun’s barrel against the back of the man’s head.
He’d never shoot a man like that. Even if it was a beanbag round inside the long weapon. At close range, it still might kill. Or seriously maim. And torturewas notAce’s style. But these guys didn’t know a thing about him. He’d pulled off the acting role just the other day, when he’d pretended to be the HVAC repair guy back at Lana’s apartment.
He could pull off this role, too.
Apparently, Jack knew what he was up to, because he played along.
“Man, don’t do this again. Remember how much we had to clean up last time?”
Ace fought back a laugh.
“He’s right,” Isaiah pleaded. “I’m not scraping brains off the carpet again.”
The guy on the ground cried out.
“We don’t have to,” Ace said. “Leave it for the CSIs to find. LAPD will get a cleanup crew in here after their done processing the scene, anyway. Whoever buys this place next won’t even know that someone’s head opened up like a damn melon on the floor.”
“Shit!” the guy yelled. “Look, Miguel Garza hired us! Okay! Move that gun away, dude!”
Miguel Garza. Lana’s stepfather.
Ace pressed the gun against him a bit further. “Why?”
