Page 134 of His Fury

I scanned it, checking it quickly. I passed it to Rye who was still holding his phone in his hand, his expression flat.

Too flat.

I glanced at his phone. Was something happening?

He checked the contents more slowly than I did; he liked to double-check his double checking. From his pocket, he handed me a flash drive, and I slid it across the table with two fingers. “You’ll find the numbers match.”

“They always do,” the older of the two said. “Deposits are sent.”

“The bags are already in your vehicle,” I told them coolly.

They said their goodbyes, and I watched them leave. It was a clean deal and a smooth delivery, so why was my jaw tight?

Rye’s phone buzzed again. He checked it. Didn’t move.

“Is there something I need to know?” I asked him quietly once the door was fully closed.

“Not yet.” His voice was sharp. Off.

“You’re starting to piss me off.”

“Starting?” he asked with a scoff. “Been doing that since the day I met you,” he said and headed for the door. “Next stop,” he reminded me.

The transaction was just as smooth in Splay, and I waited impatiently for them to clear my building, before we carried on to the next stop.

Patrick Delaney was exactly where I knew he would be. We walked into his business, and after a few well-fired shots, everyone else ran out. He was in his back office, and a girl was on her knees, blowing him. Rye helped her to her feet and told her not to look back.

I closed the door behind her. As Patrick pulled his pants up and tucked away his limp cock, I walked over the crackedfloor. Rye didn’t follow. He stayed at the door, his eyes on the outside. Alert.

I’d gotten him alone, and now it was my turn.

Patrick looked between both of us. He’d lost his cocky arrogance. He didn’t think I’d get my hands dirty. He didn’t know me at all.

“Patrick,” I greeted. I punched him and knocked him on his ass. “I asked for a meeting and you went underground? You cowardly piece of shit.”

He coughed. Spat blood to the side as he scrambled to his feet. “You’re going to die for this McCabe.”

Wrong answer.

I moved fast—so fast he didn’t even flinch until it was too late. My fist collided with his jaw, snapping his head sideways. The crack echoed. He choked on the pain, blinking fast, stumbling backward, tripping himself up, and landed back on his ass.

I stepped forward, crouched, and, grabbing his chin between my fingers, yanked his gaze back to mine. “Pay attention, Patrick.”

He didn’t respond. Smart.

I stood again, rolled my neck, and reached for the blade. Small. Clean. Familiar. I held it lightly like it was an extension of my hand.

“You didn’t take her because of what she was to Julian.” I looked down at him, my voice slow, measured. “You didn’t have her dragged into a car like she was nothing because of the debt of a shit gambler.”

“Business,” he mumbled. “It was just?—”

I didn’t let him finish. The blade sliced through the flesh of his thigh—slow, controlled, slicing deep enough through his hamstring. Enough to make him scream in agony. Not enough to end him.

“You bastards always say it’s just business,” I murmured, my voice cold. “But this was personal. You knewexactlywho she was and that she wasmine.”

He writhed in agony as I stood. Blood soaked through his pants, staining the floor beneath him. I looked over my shoulder at Rye, who was watching me.

“I’m gonna need a minute,” I told him.

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