Page 121 of SINS & Riley
Killing him outright would light a fuse no one could control.
Retaliation would be more than brutal.
I don’t mean a couple of pissed-off thugs cornering me in an alley and pounding me into the pavement until every rib snaps and I black out.
I mean nuclear.
An outright war.
And there’s no chance Junior here came without telling someone where he was headed. Or, who he was meeting.
Which means, sadly, snapping the little pissant in two is off the table.
But he doesn’t have to know that.
“Fuck you, you Russian prick. I’m untouchable!”
In one fluid motion, I flick the revolver from his grip, clamp a hand around his throat, and haul him toward the ledge.
“I’m touching you,” I growl, shoving him far enough over that his feet scrabble against the night air.
Both hands claw at mine, desperate, like he thinks he can stop me from crushing his windpipe. “I don’t know anything!” he gasps. “I’d tell you if I did. What do you want? Money? Krugerrands? Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you?—”
“I know you will.”
Controlling him at this angle should be easy. For a big shot in the Irish Mob, he’s barely got any muscles at all.
But he wiggles like a worm over a catfish. And frankly, it's a little hard to keep holding on.
Declan gasps to speak. “He knows about—Riley…”
It takes ten times more self-control to loosen my grip than it would to crush his throat. “Who knows what about Riley?”
“Andre. He knows… about… the… baby…”
A puzzle piece locks into place with the force of a wrecking ball. That’s the reason Andre wants Riley so badly.
My pulse slams, deafening. The truth—our baby—threads razor wire through my chest, every throb carving deeper. Not rage. Not fear. Something far more savage.
The instinct to protect.
Fuck.
He knows she’s pregnant.
How he knows is anyone’s guess. But I’ll find out—along with whatever else I can wring out of Declan’s skull.
I yank him closer, snarling in his face. “How the fuck does he know that?”
He clamps his jaw shut. Silence.
My teeth grind so hard I swear I crack a molar. “Always has to be the hard way with you, doesn’t it?”
I slip the knife from my pocket and drag it once across his cheek.
“Ahhh!” He howls, high-pitched, pathetic, wailing like a bitch. “Help! Somebody help me!”
I let him scream until the echo dies against the empty streets. Then I lean in, voice low, calm, lethal.
