Page 86 of A Shade of Evil

I nod and leave them to talk and head into the office we use for the less pleasant side of our business. Killian is checking his phone and stands when I enter.

“Shade.” He brings me in for a hug, kissing me three times as is customary with family and then says with a grin. “I enjoyed the results of your weekend.”

“Not as much as I did.”

I laugh and drop into the seat opposite the desk and light a cigarette.

“Fuck, Shade, haven’t you quit yet?”

Sighing, I stub it out and groan. “Habit.”

“Then I had better keep you otherwise occupied.”

“Shall we?” I stand and he nods, the light of revenge dancing in our eyes as we head out of the door, our men falling into step behind us, and we move as a hunting pack toward the door at the end of the barren hallway.

We enter and the bare concrete walls offer no luxuries and the man sitting on a chair in the center of the room hasn’t been granted any.

He is stripped naked with a bag over his head. Stark lightning glaring down harshly on his shivering frame. He is handcuffed to the chain that is suspended from the ceiling and is waiting for his fate to be decided.

Kill nods to the enforcer standing behind him and he rips off the bag over his head, causing our guest to blink against the harsh lighting.

His eyes widen with fear when he sees who’s come to play and he whispers, “Don Vieri. I am honored.”

Killian grabs a chair and sits astride it facing him and growls, “You pre-empt my title. Don Vieri couldn’t be with us today and sent us instead.”

I step beside him and smirk. “Two for the price of one. You are indeed honored, Freddie.”

He starts to perspire, his tongue running along the ridge of his lips, and he says quickly, “Ask me anything.”

Kill chuckles. “What, no attempt at a fight, no denials, just ask me anything and I’ll tell you what I know?”

Freddie nods nervously. “If I thought I was going up against the Vieris, I would have come to you willingly. He didn’t tell me you were involved. I didn’t know. You must believe me.”

Kill says nothing and makes him squirm for several seconds and then he growls, “Then you had better start at the beginning.”

Freddie nods, shivering in the cold room.

“I was asked to blackmail that new star of the Jets. A woman was found murdered and the person asking saw an opportunity.” He shakes his head.

“I used River. He does work for me like this occasionally and I knew I could rely on him.”

His voice shakes as he whispers, “The dude’s sister got involved and took over. She made the drop, and River sent Diego to mess with her head. We were going to split the money as payment, but our instructions were to intimidate her. Terrify her even and if the opportunity arose, we could have some fun.”

I actually feel my blood boiling and Kill must sense it because he turns and fixes me with a hard expression, designed to get me to back the fuck down and yet how can I? I was there. I saw what Diego was going to do to her and I want to drive my fist through this fucker’s head.

Kill says icily, “Who was the man behind it?”

Freddie starts to shake and says in terror, “I was never told his name. I swear to God, I would tell you if I did. He used one of those voice changers and his phone wasn’t registered. He paid ten thousand up front and told us to keep the blackmail money. It seemed an easy job, and I never questioned it.”

I share a look with my brother who rolls his eyes because there’s a reason guys like Freddie Connor stay low-life villains. They don’t have the brains to move on from the gutter.

I am so frustrated because this is getting us nowhere and Kill says suddenly, “What does the name Jefferson Stevenson mean to you?”

I stare at Freddie’s reaction with interest and note the confusion in his eyes.

Killian sighs. “That’s inconvenient.”

“What is?” Freddie says nervously.

---