Page 114 of SINS & Riley
I’d rather his army come straight to me. Better to see exactly who I’m dealing with.
Plus it gives me time to stalk the perimeter. One corner at a time.
“So tell me,” he calls out, lips curling, “what’s it worth to you?”
I chuckle, kicking up a few pebbles under my feet. “If it comes through, you can almost name your fucking price.”
Declan drops his cigarette and whistles.
Three men peel out of the shadows, circling with whatever junk they could scrape together.
A tire iron.
A baseball bat.
And numbnuts with the rusted chain—swinging it like we all just walked off the set of a bad prison flick.
I shake my head. Where the hell does he find them?
The first swing comes wild. A tire iron cutting air. I duck, drive my fist into his throat. He wheezes once before he folds.
The big guy lumbers in with the bat. I’m not sure who taught him to fight—or play baseball—but it helps if you actually swing. He doesn’t. I grab his arm. One twist, and bone cracks, the bat clatters to the tar.
I knee him in the head for good measure. He’s out cold.
Chain-boy gets brave, whirling steel like he’s helicoptering a T-shirt. Who has the patience for this? I rip it from his grip, wrap it once around his throat, and drag him down until a telltale snap hits the air.
Two minutes. That’s all it takes.
The rooftop’s mine.
They’re coughing, staggering, bleeding. The two still breathing, anyway. I stand over them, chain dangling from my fist.
Then—
Crack.
I freeze.
Declan, the drunk bastard, finally ditched the toy blade. A revolver gleams in his hand, grin splitting wide.
“Playtime’s over,” he drawls, voice thick with smoke and whiskey. “Thanks for the offer, but I already named my price. With Andre. Ten million for your unmasked head on a stake, Zver.”
35
RILEY
“He did what?”
Enzo’s roar rattles the walls before I even touch the door. Subtlety isn’t usually his strongest suit. He’s notorious as more the cobra type, voice dropping soft and deadly before the strike.
But right now?
This is a Richter-scale level of rage Verona probably felt. My hand freezes, curled around the handle.
Kennedy assured me that if I wanted a private word with him, this was the best time.
There’s no time like the present, Dory added as she cleared our plates.
