Page 43 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

“Elyssa!” the friend snaps, snatching the gun before Elyssa can lower it all the way down. “What are you doing?”

“He’s right,” she says innocently. “I don’t know how to use that thing. It feels wrong to even hold it.”

“It’s called self-defense.”

“He hasn’t threatened to hurt us,” she says in a voice so low I almost don’t catch the words.

“Yet!”

“I don’t plan on hurting either one of you,” I tell them both, but I keep one eye on Murray. “Can’t speak for this motherfucker, though.”

He’s writhing around a little extra now, still bleating softly in pain.

“Like I said, I came here for him. He’s the one I’m following,” I continue. “My question is, what does he want here?”

“Me,” the friend says at once. “He wanted me to come with him.”

“For what reason?”

She frowns. “That I don’t know. And that’s the honest truth. We were trying to get rid of him when you showed up.”

“I see.” I look down at the cop again, then back up to the girls. “Do you have rope?”

“Rope?” she repeats, confused.

“For our friend here. He’s waking up. I want to make sure he can’t run when he does.”

The friend hesitates for a moment. Then she looks at Elyssa. “Gary keeps a ton of shit in the back room, doesn’t he?” she says. “You might find some rope there.”

Elyssa looks uncertain about leaving her friend alone with me, but in the end, she goes without a word.

The moment she’s gone, her friend turns her one good eye on me. “You’re him.”

“I might be.”

“That guy she met that night,” she continues bluntly. “The night she showed up in Las Vegas in a wedding dress.”

“So she’s mentioned me.”

A strange expression flits across her face. I don’t know why, but it makes me feel uneasy. “You could say that,” she says at last.

I frown. “What aren’t you telling me?”

She looks away before I can read her expression. “It’s not my place to give you explanations. I’m not even sure you have the right to ask for them.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Before she can respond, Elyssa walks back into the room with a bunch of thin cord. One look tells me it’s not going to hold Murray for long.

“Will this work?” Elyssa asks, offering me the rope at arm’s length as though she’s scared to come too close.

“It’ll have to do.”

I take the rope and bend down to tie Murray’s arms with quick, sure hands. He comes to just as I get the last knot together.

“What the… get the fuck off me!” he mumbles, trying to sound intimidating. “I’m a fuckin’ cop!” It’s hard to sound tough when you’re hogtied on the ground, though.

I flip him over so that he can look me in the eye. At first, he can’t see past his own anger. Then his eyes go wide, as he takes in my face, recognizes me.

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