Page 76 of Corrupted Memories
A smile stretches on my lips. “Yeah, and where’d you hear that from? The little goons you would send to my college campus to follow me around?”
He pulls at his restraints, his arms stretching from where he’s being held up on the warehouse hook. He grunts when it’s as fruitless as his other attempts before turning to glare at me. “What’s your plan, James? Just gonna leave me here until your daddy comes to sort it all out for you like always?”
I raise an eyebrow and then laugh. “Oh, that’s cute. You think I’ve gone rogue? That I wasn’t granted permission to parade you around like the pig you are?”
“That’s treason,” Arthur snarls. “Christian wouldn’t allow it.”
Shrugging, I pull the cart in the corner closer. “Treason? That doesn’t apply to traitors and the proof of your betrayal has been shown to Christian.”
“What proof? You have nothing.”
I roll my eyes. “This is where I launch into a long speech, blah blah. I found you communicating with the Italians to help plant spies and disrupt Irish deliveries, so they could help you take over Chicago when you make your move.”
There’s a tense silence as Arthur’s breathing picks up, his chest rising and falling faster in quick pants. “That’s impossible.”
Tilting my head to the side, I stare at him. “Which part? That you’re a traitor or that I have proof?”
“All of it! I demand to speak to Christian.”
I tongue my cheek, debating if I should grant him this request before pulling out my phone and dialing the very man while leaving it on speaker.
“Bastian, do you have any idea what fucking time it is?”
Glancing at my watch, I calculate the hours in my head and chuckle. “Don’t act like you don’t have a whore in your bed right now.”
Christian ignores the comment. “What do you want?”
“Arthur doesn’t believe you’d sanction my little craft project.”
“And I give a fuck why?”
“To crush a dying man’s last hope?” I say with a frown.
Christian is silent for a moment before he laughs. “Tell the bastard I’ve been salivating for the chance to get rid of him. He’s caused too many of my men and too much of my money to dwindle to nothing.”
“Thanks, buddy. TTYL,” I say cheerily.
“James—” I hang up, knowing that the next time I see him, Christian will probably punch me in the face.
I smile at Arthur, taunting him by waving my phone around. “Anything to say now?”
He doesn’t, just stares defiantly at me. Annoyed, I push my phone back into my pocket and shrug.
“Okay then.” I let out a whistle, waving my hand at the door behind me. “You can come play if you want, boys.”
Luca walks in with a grim expression, followed silently by Rian. I’m honestly impressed the two managed to stay civil until I called them in.
Arthur’s chains rattle as he realizes who is walking in. His pupils widen, looking between the three of us with a barely concealed fear.
“See the thing is… if you had just kept your little tantrum to Chicago, you probably would have met death at the end of my barrel. But I’m a generous person, the Irish and Italians deserve a little retribution,” I explain.
Rian walks toward him and Arthur trembles. It brings a smile to my face. Someone had grown too confident, thinking my father wouldn’t hurt him, but he forgot there are others out there that have no such problem. Moving to the cart, Rian browses the tools before picking up a large knife. He moves to Arthur, gripping the edge of his shirt and slicing it open. Arthur’s stomach flexes when Rian presses the tip of the knife onto his skin.
“Here’s the deal. You tell us what you know, and we’ll keep it short. But if you don’t…” Rian lingers, looking back to Luca and me. “Then we all get a turn.”
I bare my teeth. “And just because I prefer to keep my hands clean, don't think my father hasn’t taught me a few things.”
Luca snickers under his breath.
