Page 81 of The Kingpin's Call Girl

My belly feels queasy. Is this a test?

“Is there a plan? A meet?”

Does he know about the Razvan plan?

Whatever flicks across my face, Bender notices.

He grabs my wrist, coming in closer. “You know how long I’ve been a cop, Edie?”

I try to pull away. “Let me go.”

“Go ahead. Take a guess. How long?”

“Please!” I try to pull away, shocked, but he just tightens his grip. He’s so strong; it’s like he’s crunching my bones.

“The answer is that I’ve been a cop long enough to know when somebody’s lying. You know something about a meeting. Your eyes just told me so.”

“W-what?”

“You think Luka’s gonna be angry if you reveal what you heard? That ain’t nothing compared to what I’ll do to you if you don’t give me what I want.”

My heart races. “I don’t know?—”

The way he’s looking at me, it’s like he knows I know. He twists, sending a jagged bolt of pain up my wrist. “Wrong answer.”

“Ow! Please?—”

“You’re gonna tell me all about whatever’s going down, or I will snap your little wrist, and that’ll be the least of your problems. It will be the least of Mary’s problems, too.”

My mind swims with pain and fear. “Please.”

He twists harder. “I will see that she suffers extra.”

“Ow, please! I’ll tell you!”

He lets up a tiny bit, and I hear myself blurt out the time and place of the Razvan and Aleksio meeting.

“What else?”

“Nothing!”

He tightens his grip.

My lips move, but I can’t think. I can’t form words. I’m in a blind panic. “Nothing!” I manage. “They spoke in a weird language...”

He seems to decide I’m telling the truth, which I am, and he eases off a bit more. “What language?”

“A weird one. Not normal like French or German.” Which is true of Latin.

“Albanian? Did it sound Slavic?”

“I don’t know Slavic languages.”

He finally releases my arm. I cradle my wrist against my body, head spinning, unable to process that he’s suddenly treating me like a criminal.

“You have to find out what language he spoke,” he says like everything’s normal again. “That could be the key to finding out where the fuck he’s been all this time. It could lead you to travel conversations, and you could ask how he’s so fluent?—”

“He doesn’t wanna see me again,” I say. “He even took back my phone.”

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