Page 64 of Devious Roses
The knife sticks up out of the center of the back of his hand, pierced straight through, blood puddling around the blade.
“Argh!” he cries. “Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. PLEASE! OH SHIT!”
His begging is music to my ears as I stroll around the table and then slam his face down. It collides against the heavy wooden tabletop, his cheek pressed into it as I turn his head. I lean closer, holding him in place with aggression that warns of a homicidal fate.
“Tell me what the fuck you’re up to,” I demand in a rumble. “You’re the insider that’s been fucking with me. You’ve got access. You’ve been trying to stir up shit with the Giancolas and Kozlovs. You sent people to shoot up my nightclub. You working with the DA?”
“NO!” he sobs, sweating and shaking. “NO, I SWEAR!”
“THEN WHO!?” I bark. “Tell me fucking who or I’m going to chop your fucking hand off.”
“Salvatore, please, I didn’t want… this isn’t what I planned—”
“TELL ME!”
He whimpers as I drive the Balisong knife further into his hand, giving it a twist in the middle of his severed tissue. He releases a sound unlike anything I’ve ever heard—it’s a hiccupping sob that turns into a wild shriek of pain.
“It’s… it’s not me! I swear it’s not me. It’s… it’s all some plan… s-some plot against you.”
“BY WHO?”
“I don’t know! I don’t know!” He weeps. “All I know is they’ve been blackmailing me—threatening my wife and kids. I had to help with the sabotage! Check my phone. Passcode is 46917. It’s saved under Unknown.”
I’m still holding him down as I dig his phone from his pocket and unlock his screen. I dial the number he mentioned and it rings several times.
“You’ve served your use,” I say, wrenching the sharp blade from the table. With one hand, the other holding him up by a fistful of hair, I slit his throat. Risky as hell when placed under house arrest, but in the moment, I don’t give a fuck. I need to know what the hell is going on.
The other end answers just as Suarez groans and then flops onto the table, bleeding out from the jugular.
“Hello, little boy,” croons the eerily familiar voice. “Remember me?”
18
delphine
Since Salvatore was placedunder house arrest, I’ve been working from home more often than not. That changes after Polk reveals he’s reneging on our deal.
I kiss Salvatore goodbye and announce I’m headed to the law firm to get some in-office work done. He doesn’t question me on it. I’d feel guilty if I wasn’t so focused on making Polk understand he can’t ignore my threat of blackmail. I was serious when I told him I’ll ruin his reputation if it comes down to it.
At the firm, I lock myself in my office and set to work. My desk phone is forwarded to Cirie’s out front, and she’s directed to take messages should anyone call.
Barely an hour passes before she taps against my door and pokes her head inside. “Ms. Adams, I know you said you didn’t want to be disturbed, but it seems like an important call. Ms. Newton is on the phone and sounds upset. She said she’s on her way to see Polk?”
My stomach drops. “She’s what?! Put her on.”
Cirie rushes back to her desk to do just that. The second Sasha’s transferred to my line, I’m snatching the phone off the hook and demanding to know what she’s up to.
“I can’t take it anymore,” she sobs. “He has to pay. I’ll make him myself.”
“Sasha, do not go near him!” I growl. “I told you I’d handle it. I told you—”
“He’s sending men after me! Bryce woke up crying last night. Someone was peeping in his window. It’s the men he has watching me. I just know it.”
“Sasha, turn back around. Don’t do something you’ll regret!”
“I’m sorry, Delphine. I’ve got to.”
Click.