Page 92 of Axe-ing for Trouble
Dickie’s face paled.
“I know so much more than that. I’ve got the dirt on all your bad investments, the gambling debts, the multiple mortgages on this property. The identity theft and the social security fraud. Should I keep going?”
He stared at her, eyes wide and the cup in his hand trembling almost imperceptibly.
My mind was blown. Mila knew exactly what she was doing and how to get him to talk. It was impressive and also very hot. But the longer we stayed here, the more apparent it became that Dickie was involved in the trafficking ring. Which put Mila at risk.
“What happened?” she asked again.
He ducked his head and gave it a slow shake. “I was horrified by what happened.”
“Which was…?” Mila asked, steepling her fingers like some kind of supervillain. “Because I’ve spent more than a year trying to figure out how a guy who was only doing his job gets beaten within an inch of his life and left for dead. He’s not mixed up in your bullshit.” Those last words were spoken with total conviction.
“I don’t know,” Dickie replied. “Everything’s been destabilized since Mitch Hebert went to prison. People are bloodthirsty and running scared. There’s pressure on both sides of the border.”
Mila sauntered closer, only stopping when they were nose to nose, her face a mask of pure hatred. “I don’t want vague bullshit. What happened to my brother?”
He made a choking sound and followed it up with a wheezing cough. As he reached for his mask, clearly in need of oxygen, Mila grasped his wrist and tugged on the mask herself. Damn, she was strong. He was sick, sure, but he was still a decent-sized guy. He struggled, but she kept the mask away from him.
“I’ll let you fucking suffocate if you don’t tell me what I want to know, you piece of shit.”
He wheezed, his eyes narrowing, his face turning purple.
Just when I was sure he’d pass out from lack of oxygen, Mila dropped his hand.
He scrambled to fit the mask over his face and sucked in several deep breaths. “Okay,” he wheezed. “I’ll tell you everything I know. It’s not much, but since you’re threatening my life, I got no choice.” He shuffled to the old couch and sank onto the cushion heavily.
“I loved my job. Truly. I was raised right here with a whole lot of nothing. First person in my family to go to college.”
“Can it with the life story,” Mila snapped.
“Job was great, but the pay was shit. Didn’t matter that I got a fucking PhD while working full time for the taxpayer—”
Mila crossed her arms, being careful with her injured shoulder. “So you thought you’d become a criminal?”
“I am not a criminal,” he hissed, kicking off another coughing fit. He took a few more drags on the oxygen mask.
“Make it make sense.”
“I was approached by a few businesspeople. They asked if I could look the other way when it came to a few things.”
“Like drug trafficking and murder?” Mila interjected.
His eyes went wide. “No. God no.” He cleared his throat. “Things like ignoring signs that a closed road had been used. Moving boundaries a little to allow for access. The bats are either in caves or the tree canopy, so the roads are fine. It’s common knowledge that we overregulate.”
Mila only frowned.
“Then they needed me to write up a few reports.”
“False reports?”
“Yeah. They needed access to the old logging road up to Sainte-Louise.”
Mila darted a look my way, a flicker of triumph in her eyes.
Now we were getting somewhere.
“They’d let me know where they needed to travel, and I’d find a population of bats had shifted.”
