Page 58 of Demanding Mob Boss

"Oh." She scrunches her nose. "That's boring."

"It's safe," Connor pipes up.

She smiles at my cousin. "Because you can't get in trouble for talking about going to a house?"

I glare at Connor to shut it and answer, "Exactly."

Anna and I are talking right now. She doesn't need anyone else answering her questions.

Connor takes a hint and keeps his claptrap closed, but there's amusement in his eyes. He won't be laughing if I give him a beatdown. Anna likes him though. If he comes into work tomorrow bruised up, she'll be upset.

"It's sorted," Ronan says from the doorway.

I put my hand out to Anna. "You'll wait in the office."

"Can I wait here?" she asks, but places her hand in mine.

"Someone else may come in. I don't know how long it will be."

"If I get uncomfortable, I'll go to Mr. Byrne's office."

I squeeze her hand and then let it go with a nod. "Connor, if Anna goes to the office, you and Arlo are to stand outside it until I get back. You don't leave her alone."

"Yes, Boss," both men say in unison.

Chapter 19

CIAN

When we are in the basement hallway, I ask Ronan, "Has Carmen said anything useful yet?"

"I haven't had time to start questioning her. She only woke up an hour ago."

"Problems?" I ask.

"Nothing more than the usual."

I take his words at face value. Ronan is savvy enough to notice if anything was happening with the businesses he runs that might be linked back to the Kicks Bandidos.

Wearing a typical hospital gown, Carmen is lying on the cot in the infirmary. We have to keep the gowns and scrubs on hand. If our people get shot, we can't take them to the hospital. We bring them here. The man we call the Butcher is a medical board certified surgeon. He has a handpicked team that works with him.

They all do rotations at clinics or hospitals in the area, but they understand that their commitment to us comes first.

Carmen watches us approach in silence. The nurse attendant we keep on call raises the back of the gurney, so Carmen is sitting up a little.

She winces at the movement. "What did you do to me?"

"Didn't the doctor tell you?" I ask.

"He gave me a fairytale about some kind of bomb inside me." Her accent is thicker than it was, even after the waterboarding.

The anesthesia is not completely out of her system, or she's not reacting well to learning she'd been weaponized with every expectation of dying.

She grimaces. "To be honest, I feel like I dreamt the whole conversation with the doctor."

"It wasn't a bomb. It was a biological weapon. The device was created to either dissolve on its own, or rupture if you were beaten."

Her eyes round with horror, but she says, "I don't believe you."

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