Page 12 of His Fury

Someone in this club knew where Delaney would take her.

And I was going to make them talk.

Rye settled in beside me as I took a seat, his presence a solid weight at my side. “You want to start subtle or go full McCabe?”

My lips curled humorlessly at his reference. “Let’s find out who has the biggest fucking mouth.” I locked eyes on a guy I knew who ran errands for Delaney now and then. “Him.”

Rye stood and made his way over. He exchanged a few words, and then they were both coming back to me.

I looked him over as he approached. He looked nervous. He wasn’t a player, wasn’t a decision-maker, but I was sure he heard things.

And right now? I needed to hear those things.

“Zayn.” His voice was smoother, a practiced smile in place. “You need me for something?”

I didn’t answer. Just waited for him to take the empty seat across from me, letting the silence stretch.

He shifted in his seat, his fingers tapping against his thigh. He wasn’t stupid. He knew I didn’t do small talk.

I tilted my head slightly. Before I got a chance to speak, Rye leaned forward.

“I never remember your name,” he said with an easy smile. “I’ve seen you a few times, but”—he leaned back—“every time, I forget.”

The guy cleared his throat. “Manny.”

Rye snapped his fingers. “That’s right. Manny.” His smile was gone. “How long have you worked for Delaney?”

Manny looked between us. “I, um…” He blew out a breath, turning and looking over his shoulder, checking who was in. When he turned back, he failed at casual. “Who said I did?”

“Answer the question.” My voice was cold. Steel.

I watched the fucker as he wet his lower lip nervously. “Couple of years now.”

Rye smiled widely. Manny relaxed.

“Do you need something from him?” Manny asked. “He’s in Gracemont tonight.”

My gaze sharpened. “Is he? I thought he was in Chicago,” I lied. “Do you know where he is?”

Manny shrugged. “I thought he’d be here,” he told us. “He said he was swinging by after some business.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Now I know you won’t ask me what that is.”

We wouldn’t. We couldn’t. It wasn’t normal for us to need to know anything about what was going on in the customers’ daily businesses. It’s why they trusted my skills and my club. I didn’t get involved unlessinvited.

Or unless that customer fucking kidnapped my woman.

Rye caught my eye and leaned into Manny. “Where is he?”

Manny blinked. “Seriously?”

“Answer the fucking question, Manny,” Rye snapped.

“I can’t,” Manny said, looking between us.

I smiled. It was almost friendly. “Try again.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Look, man, I don’t?—”

I moved fast. One second, I was leaning back in my chair. The next, I had Manny’s wrist twisted in my grip, pressing his hand against the table hard enough that his fingers splayed wide.

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