Page 126 of Ink's Devil

It’s a superfluous question, I don’t even bother giving a negative reaction.

“Beth’s strong, Brother.” Mace kicks out a chair and sits beside me. “She thinks fast. Deep down she’ll know we’ll be coming for her. She’ll know Patsy will have persuaded us to help. I’m sure she will.”

“Will she?” I turn my incredulous eyes on him. “You don’t think she’s sitting there worried the fuck out of her mind as she doesn’t think anyone cares? I asked you to do one thing,Brother.I claimed Beth so you’d protect her. Instead you, what? Send untried hangarounds to babysit her. Not their fault they fucked up. No, it was your fault. You threw her to the wolves as you blamed her for putting me inside.”

“It wasn’t like that…”

“No? Tell me what it was fuckin’ like then?” I stand, pushing my chair angrily back under the table. When I turn, I raise an eyebrow at him.

Mace’s face looks shuttered, then pained as though I’ve punched him in the gut. I offer no comfort. Then he, too, stands. “You could be right. We could have done things differently. Yeah, we fucked up. But we’ll make it right, Brother. I promise you that.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Beth

“Who gave my H to the Devils?”

We’ve been at this for the past half-hour. Him firing off questions, me giving what responses I can. Inside I’m crying out for someone to save me but know that I’m on my own. I want to curl up and magically wake up at home to find this is all a bad dream, but I can’t. It’s real and I’m here.

Phil’s a strong willful man, with no empathy to appeal to. If I show weakness, I won’t have a chance. I have to act strong and stand my ground, when I’d prefer to retreat. I know my responses are annoying him, but I can’t afford to give a damn. Going head to head with him is, I’m certain, the best plan.

“Connor.”

“Connor’s fuckin’ dead.”

“I’m well aware my brother, yoursonis dead,” I spit back at the man who sired me. “Beaten so badly…” I choke up. “You don’t think whoever did that tortured the information out of him? That they were in league with the Devils?”

He doesn’t look upset. Which gives me the clue. “You did it, didn’t you? You hurt your son so badly he’s dead.”

“I didn’t,” he refutes.

“But you know who did.”

A sly expression comes into his face. “Yes,” he admits, as if me knowing my brother was killed with his knowledge and clearly no regret is of no consequence at all. “But I know if Alder’s men got information out of him, they’d have come to me with it.”

“Would they?” I challenge. “You told me the heroin was worth a million dollars. Wouldn’t your men like a share of that?”

The first look of distrust appears in his eyes, then he quickly recovers. “No, they would not. My men are loyal.”

“But what about Alder’s?”

“Alder and I work together.”

“So Alder’s men are your men?” He’s just admitted not only did he know about it, he was responsible for Connor’s death.

He realises it too, as the backhand across my cheek warns me. He leans in. “You’re a mouthy bitch. Problem we’ve got is that nothing coming out of your mouth is what I want to hear. You think you can catch me out? Well, I’ve got ways of making sure you tell me the truth. Ways you won’t fuckin’ like.”

“Boss? Phone call for you. Think you might want to take this.”

He nods. Then backs off. “While I’m gone, George can soften you up.” As he walks past him, he murmurs something in George’s ear.

I have absolutely no desire to find out what.

I’ve decided I’ll take the secret of the Devils’ involvement to the grave with me, not prepared to allow hurt to come to any of their members again. If I admit I used to be friends with them, he’ll know at the very least I’ll be able to describe the compound and the number of members they have, making it easier for him to take them on. I suspect no one gets away with crossing Phil Foster, and taking his drugs, in his mind, is a serious crime.

George comes over. I stand up. It forces him to look up at me, something he doesn’t appreciate doing at all.

“Sit,” he snarls.

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