Page 29 of Demanding Mob Boss

She doesn't squeal but gives Ronan a sultry look instead. "You like it rough, tough guy?"

Ignoring her, he grabs one of the porous cloths we keep for this and covers her nose and mouth with it, connecting it around the back of her head with the straps for that purpose.

"You think you'll hold out," I say to her in a conversational tone. "You think you'd rather die than talk."

Her expression tells me that's exactly what she believes.

"The problem for you is that we aren't going to let you die, but we will get you to talk."

The defiance in her gaze lasts through the first two rounds with the water splashing over her airways. This makes her gag and feel like she's drowning. The cloth remaining on her face makes it harder for her to catch her breath between sessions with the water. It feels like the water is still being poured as every breath in she takes is heavy with the water dripping from the cloth.

I know because my father taught me by example.

Ronan was trained the same way. He's an expert at this technique and Carmen is at no risk of dying. Her expression and body language says she wants to by round three.

Ronan doesn't pause. He doesn't bother to start questioning until he's warmed up the client.

Her eyes have leached of all defiance by the time he removes the cloth from her face.

"What is your name?" he asks. Then leans down and speaks with his mouth only an inch from hers. "Your full name."

"Valeria Carmen Vega-Martinez." It's a whisper. She's got very little voice left and none of her confidence.

"No one is coming to rescue you, Valeria Carmen Vega."

That sparks a last glimmer of defiance in her dark eyes.

Ronan shakes his head and puts the fabric back over her face.

"No," she says.

He takes her through another session. She's limp, her head lolling back off the bench when he's done.

"Who do you work for?" I ask.

"Kicks Bandidos." She barely gets the words out.

Ronan goes to put the cloth back over her face. She tries to turn her head. "El Fantasma."

"I don't need a ghost," I say, pissed she's still fighting. "I need a name."

Ronan taps her face. He doesn't slap her. He never uses more force than necessary, but he'll cut a throat without hesitation when it's needed.

"Martina," she says.

El Fantasmais a fucking woman. Now we're getting somewhere. "Martina who?"

"Vega."

Fuck me.

"Cousin, sister? Aunt, mother?" Ronan asks.

"Cousin."

Ronan refills his jug of water. "Your cousin has you tricking on the street?"

Carmen's gaze slides to the now full jug.

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