Page 113 of Shatterproof

“I’m gonna pass out from all the bleeding!”

“Don’t worry,” Blu suspiciously starts, “if you pass out, Wahl’ll just shoot you again to wake you up.”

Guggenheim glances over his shoulder my direction only to be met by an arrogant beam.

Like I’ve said before, I don’t like torturing people.

But if it’ll help me get to whoever is trying to kill the only woman I’ve ever loved?

I won’t hesitate to do it.

After relocating him to his corner office only a couple doors over, he’s dropped down into his caramel-colored leather chair at his desk as I park myself on the edge of his built-in bar and remove one of my coms. “We know you’re the owner and operator of Blaakkboaard. We also knowhowit works. We know all the ins and outs you do so that the clients who need something posted maintain their anonymity, that the entire reason your site thrives over the competition’s isthanks tothis anonymity, that your programs and structure were created toprotectthat anonymity.”

A small sniffle precedes a quiet, “That is correct.”

“We are also aware such skills were groomed and perfected under the eyes of the Doctenn government, courtesy of your lengthy career for the royal family.”

Guggenheim adjusts uncomfortably in his seat. “That is…also correct.”

“Your years with them, undoubtedly taught you the undeniable importance of proper security-”

“You really should’ve hired higher quality than the bouncers with guns you had,” Reynolds criticizes.

“Andthe importance of proper leverage, which is why I know that when you mayclaimthat those posting jobs and those accepting them are both remaining anonymous, you’re lying. You store that information on backup drives and servers just in case the wrong people ever come knocking.” I lean slightly forward. “Knock. Knock.”

Guggenheim loudly gulps down his fear.

“The good news for you is all I want is information aboutoneperson.” One leg crosses in front of the other. “And all you have to do is grant access to my associate for him to grab it. Understood?”

“But-”

Calmly firing off a round that pierces his left pinky toe cuts off the remainder of his sentence. “I’m not negotiatin’, Guggenheim.”

“Fuccccc-”

A matching shot is delivered to the right. “And I’m not arguin’.”

“And if he keeps pumping holes into you, you won’t be able to pull off that move your favorite fuck boy from Dalvegan University likes so much,” Reynolds casually reminds. “It’d be a shame if he had to find himself a new ‘daddy’ to help put him through college and take him on dick sucking adventures in Cabo.”

Horror immediately floods our target’s stare.

“Oh yeah, Guggenheim. We knowallabout Crispen.” His shallow gasp simply convinces me to continue. “And Andre from Ashwin who probablydoesn’tknow about Crispen or Peanut Butter for that matter.” The sinister expression on my face deepens. “Peanut Butter who is waitin’ for your call about goin’ out on your yacht tonight, isn’t that right?”

Guggenheim’s jaw hits the bloody floor beneath his feet.

“Gonna be hard to bring him the jelly if we don’t get you patched up soon,” Reynolds villainously teases. “And he,” his finger motions my direction, “needs me,” he kicks his thumb inward, “to get the gear to stitch you up, which Iwon’t dountil you give our associate the access we’re requesting.”

“And it’d be such ashamefor somethin’ to happen to those barely legal boys that would ruin their lives as well as ruinyours,” Blu joins in on the persuading. “Leaked sex tapes or photos or voicemailsorletting it slipyou’rethe reason each caught that case of the clam they all pretendednotto get because you decidednotto wrap it with that snow bunny you let your brother watch you bang when you were back in your home country visiting your sick mother.”

“Be such a shame if you died of blood loss right after she won the battle with blood cancer,” Reynolds theatrically adds.

“‎Multiple Myeloma,” I announce to further demonstrate the severity of the situation. “Isn’t that right, Guggenheim?”

New waves of fear rise in his wide-eyed gaze.

“I’ll take that look as a yes. So,” I lift my eyebrows to the ceiling, “what do you think? Do we have an understandin’ here?”

“Yes.”

---