Page 39 of Ruthless Vengeance
He would likely rather die than hand over information without knowing there is something in it for him.
It looks like taking Ben to visit Clara might be my only option, but not that easily. This is my game. My rules.
“There’s no fucking way you’re getting anywhere near Clara unless you give me something now. And only I get to decide if it’s good enough, got it?”
Ben nods, and I reluctantly remove my hands from around his neck, but I don’t take a step back. I’m not that much of an idiot.
Ben licks his bloody lips, hesitating just a second. “Cillian’s involved in some seriously depraved shit.”
“That’s not news to me.”
“No.” Ben shakes his head. “It’s worse than you think. I’m talking sex slavery. The kind with auctions and underage girls.”
I tense, my pulse thrumming as his words sink in.
Surely, if Cillian was caught up in that sort of thing, either myself or Andre would have heard about it from the grape vine.
It’s likely Ben is just using shock-factor to try and distract me, and unfortunately for him, it’s not going to work.
“Bullshit.”
“It’s not. I heard him talking about it. And that’s not all. I heard him talking aboutyou, too.”
I keep my expression neutral, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “Yeah? And what was he saying?”
Ben’s eyes flicker slightly, like he knows he’s about to reel me in for good. “He said you think you’re better than everyone else. That it’s going to be fun watching you get your hands dirty for once.”
A cold shiver runs down my spine.
“Dirty how?”
Ben shakes his head, pressing his lips together. “I’m not saying another word until I see Clara.”
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand down my face before stepping back. “Wrong answer.”
Ben barely has time to process what’s happening before I grab his arm and twist it backwards.
He cries out in pain, and I take the momentary distraction as an opportunity to quickly reach into my pocket and pull out a zip tie.
I wrench Ben’s hands behind his back and secure them tight.
He grunts as he tries to pull against the tie, the skin around his wrists already turning pink.
I shove him toward the door. “We’re going for a little ride.”
The driveto my family’s warehouse is silent, except for the occasional pained groan from Ben shifting in the back seat.
My grip is tight on the wheel, my jaw locked, as my mind races with everything Ben has told me so far.
Could Cillian really be involved in sex trafficking?
It’s not exactly unheard of among the sort of circles I run in but still, it’s not ever something I saw Cillian being caught up in.
The thought makes me uneasy, especially when I owe him a favor.
The second I confirm if this is true, there won’t be a hole deep enough for that son of a bitch to hide in. I’m no saint, but even I know where the line is.
As I pull the car up to the warehouse, a pang of guilt hits deep in my gut as I think of Clara.
