Page 48 of Where Demons Hide

She’s quiet. They usually are. This is the moment when most people catalog through all their memories trying to pinpoint the moment they pissed off the Angel of Death.

“I’ll make it easy on you. A few months ago, I walked into Sylvester Morano’s office to handle some business, and he was shoving his cock down your throat. It took me a minute to figure it out, but I never forget a face. By the way you reacted to seeing me the other day, neither do you.”

She starts gathering the yellow packets. “Why are you here?”

“Why areyouhere? New Orleans is a long way from Miami.”

“You’re butting into things you don’t understand.”

I don’t even count to three before I pull out my blade and slam her against the wall, pressing the sharp edge against her cheek. “Then why don’t you explain them to me?”

Her hands fly up to claw at my forearm.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It would be a shame if I lost my grip.” I pressed the blade harder against her skin.

Her hands fall to her side.

“Good girl.” I bring my face next to hers and speak softly in her ear. “I’m only going to ask one more time. Why the fuck are you here?”

“Because she belongs to me.”

I turn my head toward the voice and spot a balding man with a pot belly and a cigar hanging from one corner of his mouth. He stops just in front of the bar on the back wall. It doesn’t take a genius to knowthiswoman wouldn’t belong tothatman unless she was bought and paid for.

The second his eyes meet mine, the cigar falls to the floor, leaving a trail of ashes and embers on the hardwood. “Oh, shit.”

Yeah.Shit.

I lower my hand and step away from Renee, although I’d bet my balls that’s not her real name. “Who’d you get her from?”

Renee bolts to the back of the restaurant.

“She walked in one night looking for a job,” Bald Spot says.

I walk across the room toward the bar, stopping to press my foot on the cigar, smashing it into the floor. “And all the women ‘who walk in looking for a job’belongto you? Is that what you’re telling me?”

The guy looks over his shoulder and around the restaurant. His gaze darts to the door, then back to me. “You’ve got the wrong idea.”

Add a fourth quality that makes me good at my job—My gut instinct is never wrong.

And my gut is telling me this has Morano’s sketchy fingerprints all over it.

Vince once told me vengeance doesn’t have to be loud, but as I stand here, remembering how Morano threatened Makenna, tried to take the very reason I breathe, vengeance is roaring.

I clench my teeth. “Where did you find the girl?”

“I told you. She walked in.”

“Try again.”

Sweat beads on his brow, pools along his collar. “I swear. I don’t know—”

I shove my blade to his throat. “I’m half an inch away from watching you bleed out all over your fake Armani suit. You’re lucky I spent the night fucking through my aggression and woke up in a good mood this morning. This is your last chance.” I press hard enough to draw blood.

He throws his hands up. “All I know is once a month at the port, a shipment comes in, and a shipment goes out.”

Morano.All that bullshit about leaving it alone for now. He even closed Pour to make it look good. My men have been watching the port. All the containers are accounted for. No one new has been lurking in the middle of the night.Where in the fuck is he hiding?

Nothing about me feels like being ‘silent’ right now.

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