Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“What about him?” growls Eagle-eye, pushing his way forwards. I wasn't in the club when that whole mess went down, but I know that's not good. That it's fucking bad.
Snark swings his laptop around while gesturing at it like we're gonna understand anything of the dense lines of text and numbers on the screen. “It took me a while, but I found a neighborhood camera group that was as secure as PAP.” He looks at us like we should find that funny. “Whatever. That would land at DEF CON. The image was blurry, and he's grown a beard while he's been away, but if that isn’t Hawthorne, I'm gonna eat my fucking patch.”
“God fucking damn it!” Tank explodes. I can't fucking remember the last time I saw him this angry. “Everything we did, and now she's right the fuck back where we started. And probably back in the hands of Harris and the egg guy—exactly what we fucking promised would never happen!”
“Wait, I got one more thing,” Snark says. “It’s about Deuce.”
King and Eagle-eye filled us in on Hawthorne and his connection to the crooked cops on the way back, and Deuce's betrayal. That little fucker. I never really liked him, but I don’t like a lot of people and that doesn’t make them traitors.
“What about him?”
“He isn’t Deuce.”
Eagle-eye’s nostrils flare. “What do you mean?”
“I tracked down Cannon, who was listed as his sponsor. Except the guy Cannon knows as Deuce is in fucking Australia. He’s the son of a buddy of his. He put his name forward, but didn’t have a fucking clue that someone’d actually showed up.”
“So who the fuck do we have locked up?” King asks.
“Maybe it’s time to ask.” I crack my knuckles. “I’m real eager for a… conversation.”
Nitro licks his lips, nothing pleasant in his crooked grin. “Same.”
We set course for the pit, and I'm gonna be very disappointed if Deuce sings too quickly, since my fists are itching. He looks up when we open the door, his eyes widening.
“Deuce,” Eagle-eye says conversationally. “There’s been some miscommunication.”
His eyes go wide. “Yeah, I mean, I didn’t—”
Perfect. Grabbing his jacket with both fists, I yank him off the bench and throw him into the fucking wall. He grunts as the back of his head connects. “You didn’t what, Deuce? Are you with the cops? Or just an asshole who’s willing to take their money?”
He swings at me, but if he thinks a shit like him is gonna get the upper hand on me, he's even fucking stupider than I thought. Tank blocks with one arm, then drives a fist into his gut. He doubles over and starts coughing.
“I didn't—”
Nitro gets up in his face. “Fuck you! No wonder you were fucking everywhere you shouldn't. No wonder you fucked up our escape and got Eagle-eye arrested. How did you learn about Alessa's apartment? That one I wanna know.”
“Fuck,” he groans. “I heard the mob guy talking to his daughter, okay? Didn’t take a genius.”
King lands a punch that sends a tooth flying. “If you want to even have the chance of surviving your stay, you’re going to tell us where Hawthorne has the girl.”
“I don’t know shit about that!”
My next hit drops him to the floor, where he groans and tries to push himself back up. I put my boot on his back and keep him there. “Are you sure? Really fucking sure? I'd hate to get an answer I don't like.”
“They'll fucking kill me,” Deuce gets out through a tongue that's probably swelling by now.
Eagle-eye, who’s been content to stand back and watch us beat the shit out of this shitstain, crouches down and grabs him by the hair, forcing him to look up. “We’ll fucking kill you, so pick your poison. Do I make myself clear? Look around. Do you think anyone gives a shit what happens to a weasel like you? Who’s coming to rescue you? Cooperate and maybe we’ll think about not cutting out your tongue and letting you choke on the blood.”
“I only saw Hawthorne once,” he forces out, like he has to convince himself to make the words.
I smile. “Now we're fucking getting somewhere. Keep going.”
“I swear to God! All I know is he’s got a fancy place somewhere, but they never took me there. What I don’t know can’t be tortured out of me, so do your fucking worst.”
I can almost appreciate his attitude, but nah.
Snark comes into the cell, takes one look and fake gags. “Who dropped a Deuce in here? The Giordanos are on their way. They’re really interested in getting a chance to talk to this shit.”
The traitor pales. “Wait, you're not gonna give me to the mob, are you?”
I don’t feel a shred of pity for his limp form on the floor. “You know, it's kinda fucking impressive.You've managed to set yourself up as a target for not just us, but the Mafia too. Few people are that fucking dumb.”