He remains silent. That is until I grab his wrist and drag the edge of the knife along his middle knuckle.
“Fine!” he squeals like a little pig, struggling against my firm grasp. “Fine, I’ll tell you!”
Releasing him, I stand to my full height and cross my arms, being careful of the blade in my right hand. “Start. Talking.”
“I can only speak for the Allegretti family.”
“And what did they know?” I press in a cool tone.
“That I was throwing a tournament together.”
“Did you have any buyers lined up for the girls?”
He laughs. “You mean the fruit? Of course.” At the mention of his favorite conquest, he brightens. “Any good businessman would have a buyer lined up for fresh merchandise. Don’t you?”
“Have a buyer? For the girls? No. I don’t believe in selling women, remember?”
“I meant I’m sure you always have a buyer lined up for the drugs. The guns. The…information.” With a smirk, his cloudy gaze moves from mine to Ace’s. “Do you know who you’re screwing, Pretty Girl? Because if you did, I think you’d be running in the other direction. Sure, I’m not a good guy, but he isn’t a saint, either.”
“I know exactly who I’m sleeping with,” Ace replies indifferently from behind me. “But thanks for your concern.”
“If I’d have known you’d slip into bed with someone of our caliber willingly, I’d have––”
“Careful,” I interrupt. “I have a few more questions that I need answers to, and I’m afraid if you keep talking, I won’t be able to control myself.”
“Then get to the point, Kingston. I’m afraid I’ve grown bored of your little game.”
“I thought you loved games, remember?” With a sarcastic laugh, I wave the knife through the air. “But you’re right. I’ve got more important shit to do today than let you breathe much longer. Who were the buyers?”
Annoyed, he mutters, “You already know. They were in the process of purchasing before your lie swayed them––”
“I meant the buyers you’d lined up for after you won the tournament. We both know you’re too much of a cocky sonofabitch to not have assumed you’d come out the victor.”
“Touche.” He smirks. “Unfortunately, I don’t know the names off the top of my head.”
“Lie. Who were they?”
“Why does it matter?” he argues. “They’re not getting the girls.”
“Yes. But they’re likely looking for them. Answer me.”
“No.”
Impatient, I turn back to the cabinet and grab a set of pliers with the intention of ripping out a few of his fingernails. When he sees them in my hand, he shakes his head back and forth rapidly.
“Fine! I don’t know the names off the top of my head, but we corresponded through email. I’m sure your tech gurus can take it from there. J-just put it down.” He stares at the pliers as if they’re a damn viper that could strike at any second.
Interesting.
Once Lou breaks into his email, we might be able to find out the location of Q’s buyer and can keep her far away from him to avoid any chance encounters. We can’t let anyone recognize her, or she’ll end up in a casket.
Satisfied, with his previous answer, I say, “Last question. Was Vince the only guy you were in contact with in the Romano family?”
I keep my expression indifferent, though my entire body is vibrating with anxiety.
The asshat gives me a sinister smile. The blood from his internal bleeding––I think I can thank Q for that––stains his teeth, making him look like something straight out of a horror movie.
“I’d heard about Vince’s disappearance. It’s a shame. I didn’t even have to work for his intel. He gladly handed it over in a handbasket.”