Page 92 of Beauty and the Daddy
"Right." He tilts his head. "Everything okay?"
"Peachy," I say, not giving him even a snapshot of my life, for he's not the kind to want an innocent chat.
His smile sharpens. "Is that so. You know, I've started to wonder what a girl like you could be hiding."
There it is. The question with teeth. Declan's favorite way to end a chat.
I smile, sweet as sugar, while my throat closes like he's got my neck in his hands.
20
LUCA
Ihate dingy rooms, but I'm entering the dingiest of them all in my basement.
What can I say… I have a special guest down there.
"This better be good," I growl, passing one of my men.
"Trust me, boss. We caught him alive and are waiting on you to break him."
A thrill goes down my spine. I want to be a better man, but these fuckers stormed in with guns, scaring the living daylights out of my kid and Belle.
So yeah, my plan is to enjoy beating the shit out of someone.
Down here it's always cold and dark, with the concrete smelling wet. The room is simple with a chair, drain, a table. No mirrors. No one here needs to look at themselves because that'll only make them shit their pants.
He's zip-tied to the chair, breathing like he's got bad lungs. He's in his late twenties, tattooed like a thug without class, and has a chip in his front tooth that says he learned hard lessons cheap.
Just seeing him here, for me to play a round of questions and answers with, makes me damn glad for whoever dragged him alive out of the east corridor.
His one eye's already swollen shut, and he's looking at me like he's still brave.
Oh, hell yeah. I'm about to have some fun.
"Name?"
He spits blood at my feet. Cute.
"Let's try this again," I say, circling him like a shark that smells dinner. "Who sent you?"
He just glares like he can deliver vengeance through his eyes.
"Wipe that look off his face." I nod to Alexei, who stands guard behind me.
My cousin steps forward and drives his fist into the guy's kidney. The scream is a sweet symphony bouncing off the walls.
Not many people know about this room under my house. The soundproofing is excellent. Nobody hears you down here except the people who put you here.
"You're the only one left alive," I tell him when he catches his breath. "So here's the deal: you talk, you walk. Or you can join your friends in the Hudson. Your call."
He stays silent. I grab a pair of pliers.
His eyes blast open, darting around the room like Moses might come save him.
"Talk, or I make your death real slow." I look at his fingernails.
"P…Please don't… I'm just muscle," he wheezes. "They don't tell us shit."
