Page 196 of Sinful Lies

I stopped just a few feet away, cocking my head as I looked him over, my gun still trained on his chest.

“Did you really think you could run? That you’d be halfway to Thailand, sipping your shitty cocktails, while I was sitting in a fucking federal holding cell?”

His lips parted, but no sound came out.

The bastard was too terrified to even lie properly.

I clicked my tongue, shaking my head. “You disappoint me, Greg. I thought you’d at least try to grovel before you went full coward.”

Anger flashed behind his eyes. “Fuck you, Lazzio.”

A low laugh rumbled out of me, the kind that made him flinch even though I hadn’t moved an inch.

I leaned closer. “Fuck me?” I repeated. “You’re cute, Greg. Truly. It’s almost enough to make me forget how badly I want to put a bullet in your head.”

He was trying to play tough, but his twitching fingers and the way his eyes darted to the stairs gave him away. Fear was an ugly look on anyone, but on Greg? It was practically pathetic.

“You’re lucky I need you alive tonight,” I continued, straightening and adjusting the cuffs of my sleeves. “Come on. My girl’s waiting for us, and I’m not a fan of making her wait.”

I shoved Greg toward the car, his feet fumbling to catch up as he glared over his shoulder at me.

His lip was split from the punch, and I caught the flash of anger in his eyes, but he didn’t dare say another word.

Until he did.

“Your girl?” he sneered, like he thought it was funny. “You mean the bitch who sold you out to the feds? I figured you’d have put a bullet in her by now.”

Would you kill me too, if I betrayed you?

No, amore. I could never kill you.

And I was fucking right—no matter how much the world screamed for it, no matter how much she deserved it, it was the one thing I could never do.

He stiffened as I approached, but I didn’t stop until I was close enough for him to feel the cold press of the gun barrel against his cheek.

“Run that mouth again, Greg,” I said, my voice cold as ice. “See where it gets you.”

I yanked him forward by the collar, slamming him into the side of the car.

The door swung open, and his chauffeur gave me a polite nod.

Guess money really does buy everyone, huh?

I leaned in, close enough that he could feel my breath on his skin, my eyes never leaving his. “Got it?”

He didn’t answer, just nodded, his eyes wide.

I shoved him into the car and slammed the door behind him.

The bucket tipped, and the cold water hit Greg square in the face, a satisfying gasp ripping out of him as he sputtered and coughed. The water pooled on the floor beneath him, soaking into the grime and leaving him shivering.

I leaned back in the chair, arms draped over my knees, watching as he thrashed and groaned. His wide, unfocused eyes darted around, desperate for clarity, until they landed on himself—on the ropes biting into his wrists and ankles, in the bloodied state I’d left him in before he so rudely decided to pass out.

His face went as pale as a corpse.

Good.

When we’d pulled up to the location earlier, his mouth wouldn’t stop. Snide remarks, desperate insults—shit meant to get under my skin. I’d let him talk until the pounding in my head hit its limit, and then I’d dropped him with one punch. Lights out. The silence after had been a goddamn blessing.

---