Page 34 of The Villain

“Enough.” I slammed my fist on the table, making him jump again. “You have thirty seconds to answer my questions, or the next thing my fist hits will be you.” My temples pulsed with rage. “Did you plant a bomb on Athena’s car to kill her?”

“Yes.”

My fist curled like a loaded gun, but before I could ask my next question, he started rambling wildly.

“I had to do it. I didn’t have a choice?—”

“You were in debt, not sitting with a fucking gun pointed at your head.”

“They were pointing a gun at my head.”

“Who?” I tipped forward, scrutinizing his face for the slightest indication that any of this was a lie.

“I don’t know! I don’t know. He was waiting for me in the back seat of my car one night when I left the casino. It was dark. I couldn’t see him.”

I grabbed my phone and pulled up the only recent photo we had of Ivans. “Was it him?”

“No,” he said too quickly, and when I glared, he looked again. “No. I could hardly fucking see anything, but no, I really don’t think it was him—whoever the hell that is.”

“What did the man say?” Harm asked.

Brandon let out a tense breath. “He made it clear I didn’t have long.”

“To pay?” Hazard asked.

“To live,” he snapped.

“Go on.”

“He knew about everything. The debts. The insurance policy on Athena. I’ll admit I got it…as a backup plan.”

“To kill her to collect on the money?”

He glared at me. “Yes.” He wiped the blood from his face again. “But I hadn’t decided to…until he made me. Said he’d double the payout of the life insurance policy if I went through with the plan. Left the damn bomb in my car. The remote. Told me how to activate it.”

“Why?”

He sputtered. “Did it matter? I had people practically beating down my door for money I owed them—one loan shark in particular…” He trailed off and shook his head. “This was my answer.”

“You’re a piece of shit?—”

“I wasn’t in any fucking position to ask questions?—”

“Well, you’ve certainly asked plenty here,” I snapped back.

“Did he say anything else?” Harm stepped in—and stepped in front of me—before I did something stupid.

I backed off, giving myself a beat to let the rage come to an even keel.

“No.”

“And what proof did he give you that he’d pay you?” I asked.

“The fucker was sitting in the back of my car, a gun held to the back of my neck and a bomb on the seat. I didn’t need proof that he’d kill me if I didn’t?—”

“Liar.” I narrowed my gaze. “You’re lying.”

He snarled. “Fine. Fuck—fine.He left cash for me in the trunk. A ten percent deposit. When the bomb went off, he wired me another fifty percent.”

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