Page 53 of Night for Ruthless Whispers

I'd laugh if it didn't hurt so damn much. “I would say the same, but I'd be lying,” I retort, trying to straighten up despite the ache in my muscles. My hands are bound behind me, but I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me squirm.

I have the taste of blood lingering on my tongue, reminding me that I have been beaten up. But that won't stop me from paying Dexter with the same coin after everything he's done to me. If he wanted to stop me, he should have killed me.

Dexter leans back in his chair like he owns the place—which, unfortunately, right now, he does. “You're a hard man to catch, Callahan.”

“You don't know the half of it,” I shoot back. This isn't over—not by a long shot.

He's too arrogant to see the chessboard clearly. Every move he makes has been anticipated, every threat calculated. While he's been playing with people's lives, I've been setting traps that'll spring shut with one wrong step from him.

Dexter leans forward, trying to gauge my expression. “What's so funny?”

“Nothing,” I say, hiding my grimace as best as I can. “Just thinking about how you're going to feel when you realize you've been outplayed.”

He laughs, but there's a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “You're in no position to make threats.”

I shrug as much as the ropes allow. “Who said anything about threats? You see Dexter... while you were busy getting your hands dirty here with me, my team has been busy too.”

His smirk falters for a moment before he regains his composure. “You think your friends can save you?”

“It's not about saving me,” I correct him with a steely tone. “It's about trapping you.”

Dexter studies me for a moment longer before standing up. He knows something’s off. I can tell by the way his eyes narrow ever so slightly.

Andres and Jackson are skilled at what they do—planting digital breadcrumbs for guys like Dexter to follow right into our trap. Landon's got our tech covered so tightly that even Fort Knox would be jealous. Damien? He’s laying down false leads that'll send Dexter’s allies on wild goose chases until they don’t know up from down.

Meanwhile, every little piece of incriminating evidence against Dexter and his cronies gets cataloged to determine how to use it best. Let's just say there are few things more satisfying than watching corrupt men crumble under their own greed and arrogance.

“Your sense of humor prevails, even in the face of dire circumstances. Admirable.” Dexter chuckles.

“Dire circumstances? You assume you've won.”

Dexter raises an eyebrow. “Haven't I?”

“No. But perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself.”

“Perhaps?” Dexter's smile is more than evident. “You have some brass balls, Callahan.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the cell phone I had been using to record the entire conversation with Mike. Dexter waves it back and forth, as if he has the winning hand.

My pulse races. Time’s ticking away with each beat like a bomb about to go off. But instead of fear, there’s an adrenaline surge that screams one thing—checkmate is coming for Dexter Whitmore, and he doesn't even know it yet.

“And you think that gives you the upper hand?” I smile, ready to poke the bear. “Come on, asshole. I thought you were smarter than that.”

Dexter stands up, looking annoyed. “I'm getting tired of your cocky attitude.”

“The sentiment is mutual. So, let's get straight to the point. This was all part of my plan.” The smile on my face only grows wider. “Maybe the part with your guys kicking my ass was extra, but I'll even the score on that one.”

Dexter looks at me in disbelief.

“Seriously, did you think I would really come here trying to convince your goon to make a deal with me? Please give me more credit. I'm smarter than that.”

He pauses, and for a split second, I see it—the crack in his facade. He's second-guessing now, wondering if he missed a step.

“Cut the crap, Callahan.” Dexter leans in close enough that I catch the scent of his cologne—and pungent mix of arrogance and desperation.

“That phone? It's a decoy.” I chuckle dryly, ignoring the throbbing in my jaw from his boys' handiwork. “My guys are ten steps ahead, setting up the real play while we're down here playing footsy.”

His face contorts into a scowl so fast it almost makes me want to laugh—almost. He's gripping my phone so tight now I swear it'll crack.

---