Page 130 of Indulge
I say it as a guess, and with the way he pales, I’d say I’m spot on.
The Crow shakes his head like a dog. Tears and snot running down his face. “I’m not telling you anything else. Just let me go. I’ve got kids. A family. I promise, I’ll stop working with them.”
I laugh, and it sounds more like a cackle.
“And the women you traffic, don’t give a fuck about them or their family? Do you? If you want any chance of walking out of here, you tell me how I find her.”
He won’t look. He looks away. My patience is a wire taut and snapping.
“Fucking look at me, you sick piece of shit!” I shout and drive the blade through his good thigh.
He howls, so I twist and leave the metal lodged, bringing my face level with his. Close enough to see the tiny betrayal he thinks he will live with.
“I can keep going all day, asshole. Finding new ways to make you cry. It’s satisfying. I bet your wife will cry harder,” I whisper.
He surrenders words. “Block Central club. You go there and you ask to see The Madame. You’ll have to pretend to be looking for a job. That’s how she gets them.”
Reggie’s face, when I look up, is stone. He knows my brain already; he sees my plan threading itself through the blood. He’s not a fan, and his jaw shows it.
“Any more questions for him?” I ask Reggie.
He throws himself upward off the wall, grips The Crow by the neck and the remains of the chair, hauling him like a rag. “How do we find The Preacher?” he asks, voice flat.
“I-I don’t know. No one knows. I’m too far down the chain,” the man splutters.
Reggie drops him and kicks the chair; the impact snaps the room. His head bounces on concrete. Reggie’s boot plates the man’s throat until he claws at air.
“Which one of you is doing the honors?” Reggie glances between me and Rowan.
“Rockstar can. I’ve had my fun,” I say, winking at Rowan.
“Thank you, baby.”
Rowan stalks forward slowly. He lifts his foot and crashes it down onto The Crow’s skull. He keeps going until he’s satisfied. Completely void of emotions. When he’s finished, he looks at me like it was theater and the curtain just dropped.
“Now I need some new fuckin’ boots,” he grumbles.
Reggie laughs, a short bark that bounces off the concrete. Blood maps his steps as he moves toward us. Rowan’s grin is dangerous as he wipes his hands, stopping right in front of me.
“You did good, precious. I love that side of you,” he growls, scooping me up over his shoulder like I’m nothing and everything.
“Rowan!” I shout, slapping at his back in mock outrage. I look over my shoulder and see Reggie close behind.
“Reggie! Tell him to stop!”
He shakes his head, trying to hide his desire, but I see it. As Rowan slows to a run for the door, Reggie catches up to us.
“Nope. You’ve been a bad, bad girl,” Reggie mutters, his palm ghosting along my cheek. My breath stutters, and the air between us sparks.
We run into night like three halves of the same sin. Which, maybe we just are.
61
REGGIE
Song- baby can you sin for me, Ex Habit
As soon as Rowan sets her down on her feet, his fingers run through her hair. Her eyes dart to mine, for reassurance and probably confirmation.
