Page 6 of Veiled Vengeance

I chuckle, knowing my lack of cowering is only going to enrage him further. But the more his attention is on me, the less it’ll be on her.

“Getting started without me?” Pierce strolls in through the metal door and stops when he’s shoulder to shoulder with Anthony. The hurt on his face is genuine, as if he actually feels left out.

Fucking psychopaths.

“We need answers,” Anthony says without remorse.

“Then allow me to help.” Pierce pulls out his own set of brass knuckles.

Anthony gestures to my vulnerable frame. “Be my guest.”

“Leave him alone! Please!” Spencer’s terror is palpable and fills the room. I need her to remain calm, but I can’t give her the cue now. Drawing attention to herself is only going to cause her pain.

Anthony sneers at Spencer. “You need to learn what happens when you fool around with trash, Flower.”

Pierce’s jabs and punches to my torso make me feel like I’ve gone twelve rounds with Muhammed Ali, but I try to keep the groans and hisses to a minimum because each one causes Spencer to flinch. Somewhere along the way, I think he fractures a rib.

“That’s enough, Pierce.” Anthony’s tone has an air of finality, but Pierce keeps punishing my torso with his blows. “I said, that’s enough!” Anthony grips Pierce by the shoulder and yanks. Pierce turns with his fist raised.

“I wasn’t done,” Pierce says through panting breaths.

Anthony’s glower says he isn’t too happy at being defied in front of others. “We need him to talk. He can’t do that if you beat the shit out of him.” He snaps his fingers again.

I’m getting really tired of his air of entitlement with those finger snaps.

A man with a rolling metal table comes forward from the shadows. On the table is an array of knives. I think the move is supposed to scare me, but I’ve been friends with Rio for over ten years. Rio’screativitywith a blade is intimidating. A couple of rich boys who grew up with a silver spoon won’t make me sweat.

My head hangs forward as I chuckle.

Pierce jerks my head up by my hair. “You won’t be laughing much longer.” My neck strains, but I keep laughing.

Anthony throws another punch at my midsection, effectively putting a stop to my laughter. “Now that that’s over, tell me something: What does the FBI know about our operations?”

My breathing is labored. They may not scare me, but, shit, I’m fucking sore. “Which operations would that be?”

“We both know the FBI sent Dustin to Euphoria wearing a wire. Tell me what else you know.”

Wow. He really is a dumbass.

If the FBI had the recording, he would have been taken into custody already. Considering the shit he revealed about stalking Spencer and admitting to blackmailing two NYPD officers, he would’ve been collared right away.

“A wire?”

The more I get him to admit to me, the deeper the hole he digs for himself. I can’t use the recording from Euphoria,because proving that Dustin consented to the recording will be difficult since he’s dead. With New York being a single-party consent state, if Rio would’ve gotten his head out of his ass and had Dustin sign a damn piece of paper, I could have taken that recording right to the FBI. But now, even if I could trust everyone in my office, the recording would be inadmissible.

“The wire Dustin wore into Euphoria!”

“He’s not going to talk,” Pierce mutters.

Anthony picks up one of the knives, but his grip on the handle is all wrong. I let my head fall forward, and I smirk.

Just like I thought. A couple of rich men playing at torture experts.

Anthony slashes at my arm with the knife, leaving behind a shallow cut. My sweat trickles into the open graze. The burn is inconvenient, but I barely notice it.

“Tell me! What does the FBI know about our trafficking operation?” He’s losing his patience, which is just what I need. I will happily play the part of the FBI idiot to get him talking.

“Weapons trafficking?” Another cut stings on my arm.

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