Vienna stepped forward and shot a man between the eyes and smacked a woman around the face with his gun, sending her spiralling to the floor in an unconscious heap.
“That’s two down already,” I said, aiming my gun at the woman’s head without giving her a second glance, and shot two rounds into her skull. “I’ll tell you what. We’ll make this interesting. Let’s play last man standing. One of you will survive. Whoever gives me the most information on Macbeth, Callum, and their ridiculous plan with the Rough Rider’s motorcycle club will get their pardon. Everyone else will…” I ran my finger across my throat and pulled a sad face. “Who wants to go first?”
“Me,” came the voice of a woman with brown hair, pushing her way to the front of the crowd.
“Hello ‘me’,” I mimicked. “What’s your name?”
“Sophie.”
“Hi, Sophie,” I nodded my head at her. “You understand the rules of our little game, don’t you?”
She nodded at me, trying not to show how scared she was, but the tremors running through her body betrayed her.
“Alright, good. What do you have to say?”
“I get to live if I tell you what I know?” she asked, as Hacksaw came forward and whispered something in my ear.
“Hold on a second, love, will you?” I murmured, turning to listen to what Hacksaw had to say. I pulled out my phone and pressed video call.
“Everything okay?” Came Rachel’s hushed whisper.
“Alright, Darlin’?” I grinned at her. “Just some club business—”
“So, why are you calling me?” She interrupted, a scowl on her face. I heard Vienna laugh behind my back, and I stuck my middle finger up over my shoulder.
“Wow. No response to the ‘alright, darlin’’? No’ I’m fine Dante, how are you?’” She just blinked at me.
“You rang me, Dante. I’m not playing twenty questions. Is this going to take long or…?”
“I wanted to see if you recognised anyone, that’s all.”
She sighed heavily. “What is this, some fucked up version of gothic ‘Where’s Wally?’ Here’s a hint: he’s usually the one in the stripy red top. But I guess in your current surroundings, he’ll be the one in the black top. Hope that helps! Bye!”
The fucking bitch actually hung up.
One of these days I would legit kill her. Why she couldn't just be civil for five seconds was a mystery only a therapist could get to the bottom of.
My men snickered behind me again, and I shot them a glare, silently warning them to shut the fuck up. “Sorry, boss,” Shark said, but then burst out laughing again when Vienna nudged him with his shoulder, a smirk on his stupid bearded face.
That sent Hacksaw off, wheezing as he said, “the stripy top!” which set the other men off.
Assholes.
I rang Rachel back, my temper hanging by a thread. “Dante, it's cheating if I help you.”
“Can you just shut the fuck up for a second?”
“I was, but you keep ringing me, begging for attention. A phone call doesn't work if you expect the person answering to be silent. Do you just want to look at me? Because that's weird.”
“I swear to fucking God—”
"Right, well, if you're swearing, I'm not participating. Your daughter is asleep next to me. Ring me back when you've found some self-control."
And then she hung up again. Even members of Ben's club were starting to chuckle now, and that's when I really lost it.
I rang her back a final time. “Don't say a fucking word, and maybe I'll resist the urge to rip your throat out. Do you recognise her?” I turned the camera around to the woman in front of me.
“Are you just looking for ways to upset me? First shouting, now this. Of course I fucking recognise her.”
