Page 30 of Fatal Collision
KANE
“I didn’t do it,” Kennie sobs, tied to the chair, struggling to lift his head. One of his eyes is swollen shut, and his broken nose sits at an unnatural angle after a few rounds with my brother’s ruthless fist.
Cash lets out a harsh laugh, flexing his bloodied fingers while pacing in front of him. My twin has a penchant for violence and is always eager to inflict pain. I’d say he thrives in moments like these.
“Wanna try that again?” he taunts, cracking his busted knuckles.
Noah watches from the far wall of the abandoned warehouse, where he leans up against the graffiti-covered metal with one ankle crossed over the other, chill as anything.
Unlike Cash, Noah’s violent tendencies are less explosive in nature and more calculated, but no less lethal.
“Please,” Kennie pleads. “You’ve gotta believe me. It wasn’t me.”
Cash’s fist flies again, striking Kennie’s cheekbone with a sickening crunch.
I jerk my chin to Maverick, who brings up a recording on his phone from the hidden cameras on the property, and he holds it up with a smug smile.
Kennie pales and shakes his head when the obnoxious sounds of fucking echo through the warehouse.
“After you dicked down Mrs. Huntington, you stole from her husband while she was in the shower.” I circle his chair, hands behind my back.
Maverick plays another recording of Kennie with his fingers in the cookie jar, and it’s not Mr. Huntington’s wife this time. But his safe.
“It wasn’t money you stole, was it?” I stop in front of him, and he quakes as he stares up at me.
I carefully fold up my sleeves, one by one. “What did you steal, Kennie?”
“It wasn’t me,” he says again, his voice desperate.
People always say the stupidest shit to get out of trouble. There’s video evidence, yet he still tries to deny it.
I step back and continue folding up my sleeves while my brother roughens him up some more, just enough for him to lose a tooth or two.
“That’s enough,” I say, and Cash steps out of the way, blood splattered across his shirt and throat.
“Let’s try that again, Kennie.” I motion to Noah,who pushes off the wall and hands me a roll of Saran Wrap.
“Please,” Kennie begs. “I’ll do anything.”
Honestly, he’s a pathetic sight with all that blood and snot all over his face. Why we recruit these low lives to deal the drugs we provide them is a damn mystery. They’re nothing but a waste of space.
“One thing you don’t know about me, Kennie, is that I don’t like to be kept waiting. I’m not a patient man.” I slide out a strip of plastic wrap, pretending to inspect it.
“It was just a dagger,” he blurts, looking between us all with wide eyes. “That’s all. No big deal.”
Maverick barks a laugh, and Cash whips his head up.
“Just a dagger?” My voice is calm and controlled. It’s never a good sign when I’m this calm. Seriously. Most people tremble at the knees, but this guy just keeps digging that grave deeper.
“You got it back. No foul done. I mean?—”
“Kennie.” I take a step closer, and he leans as far back as the chair allows. “You fucked a founding father’s wife and stole The Founders’ Relic.”
“Yeah, but?—”
“That dagger is only trusted to inner-circle members. You undermined their authority.”
He’s visibly sweating now, darting his panicked eyes from me to Noah over by the far wall, and then toMaverick, who gets his phone out to switch on Franz Liszt’s classical song “Totentanz,” also known as the “Dance of Death.”
