Page 69 of Finding Denver
Two hits this time, and blood spritzes across the oldwooden floor. Colt flexes his fingers as spittle drips from Malcolm’s mouth.
“Why?” Colt asks, rolling his shoulder.
Malcolm takes in mouthfuls of air. “She killed Dorian.”
“Wrong.” Colt hits him again. Again. Again. Each smack has me holding my breath, my gaze darting between Malcolm’s face and Colt’s fist. My heart races and Lewis stays close, as if trying to protect me, but the danger is on our side. “How did you find Denver?”
“H-hotel … someone spotted her. Took a photo. Posted it online.”
Shit. I’d hoped being on a different coast would protect me from this twisted form of celebrity, but apparently not.
Colt says, “Tell me where Spider is.”
“P-please …” Malcolm sobs. “I don’t know.”
Colt crouches before him. “Malcolm, here is my issue. I don’t like it when people try to hurt my friends. I like it even fucking less when someone shoots at my fucking niece.” Malcolm lifts his head, his eyes teary. “So, while I’d love to listen to you plead and whine, you’re not leaving this room. It’s your choice how long it takes you to die. And the longer it takes, the more creative I get. Tell me where he is.”
“I don’t know!” Malcom cries.
Colt stands. “Untie him.”
Taf releases Malcolm, and Colt seizes the back of his neck, dragging him to the far side of the room. I watch with interest, my head tilted, as he throws Malcolm to the wooden floor.
“Bite it.”
Bite it. Bite what? My gaze lands on the concrete block, and I press my back into the wall.
Malcolm looks up at Colt. “Please?—”
“Tell me where he is.”
“I’m not important enough to know!”
“You have a tattoo of a spider on your neck. That means you know something. So talk, or bite the fucking block.”
No, this isn’t happening. He isn’t really going to do what I think he is.
The smell of urine fills the room, and I reach down and take Lewis’s hand. He keeps his darkened gaze on Colt.
Colt crouches and grips Malcolm’s mouth, prying it open.
“Arizona!” He sobs. “He’s in Glendale.”
“Do you have an address?”
“Y-yes.”
Colt glances at Taf, and he takes out his phone, typing in the address that Malcolm recites. Once he’s finished, Malcolm sobs into the floor.
“I’m going to send men to that address. If you’ve lied, you die. If one of my men doesn’t come back, you die painfully,” Colt says. “Understood?” Malcolm nods slowly, and Colt stands, meeting my eye. “Do you have anything you want to ask him?”
I shake my head, still holding onto Lewis’s hand.
Colt approaches and keeps his voice low. “You need to move hotels. Taf, can you deal with him while I go with Del?”
“You’re coming with us?” I ask.
He’s already going for his coat. “Why wouldn’t I?”
