Page 76 of She Gives Love a Bad Name

“Then why am I here?”

The door swings open behind them, drawing attention away from Donovan’s question.

Another goon enters the bar with bravado. “We’re clear, boss.”

“Thank you, Jack.” Donovan doesn’t spare him a glance. His gaze remains fixed on Quinn. It’s not a brotherly look of affection. More like a lecher drinking his fill before indulging in his sin of choice.

I want to snap his fucking arms off and rip out his eyes. Instead, I stand and clear my throat.

His men reach for their sidearms in unison. I lift my hands, showing that they’re empty and I’m not a threat.

Donovan finally looks at me. “Ah, detective. To what do I owe this honor?”

“I have a proposition. Tell your men to stand down.” When he directs his men to lower their weapons, I drop my hands.

“Do you intend to pay off my sister’s debt, detective?” He lounges in his chair, comfortable and unruffled by the shift in events.

“No, but I can offer a trade.” I step clear of the bar, keeping all of them in view.

He scoffs. “What could you possibly offer me that’s worth ten grand?”

“Information.”

“I don’t need your information, Detective Richards. As you can see, I have my own sources.”

“True. You’re a resourceful man.” It’s now or never. “But someone in this room is lying to you.”

Donovan arches a brow. “You have my attention. Enlighten me.”

“There’s a murderer in this room.”

He scoffs.

“They’ve been cutting in on your turf. Stalking Quinn. Murdering those she steals from.”

“Has nothing to do with me.” He shrugs.

“They came for Quinn,” I continue carefully, taking measure of the men before me.

Donovan’s eyes darken. “What makes you think it’s someone in this room?”

“Because they’re the only ones who knew where she would be and when to strike.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Donovan throws up his hand.

“Their careless actions could be traced back to you. It’ll look likeyousanctioned these hits. Doesn’t matter if you did or not, their shit will drag you to court and air your dirty laundry.”

“You have no proof of any of this do you, detective?” He chuckles, and the sound is haunting.

“Actually, I do.” I reach into my pocket and withdraw the St. Jude pendant inside a plastic bag. “This was found at the scene of the crime. The lab was able to get a full print off the back. We also located the murder weapon at the scene. It’s being tested as we speak.”

Donovan’s face skews in irritation, his carefree expression replaced by a storm cloud. “What is that?”

“St. Jude, patron saint of lost causes.” I tuck the evidence back into my pocket. “If you give me the murderer, I’ll cut your connection to the case. We call the debt paid. Do we have a deal?”

His jaw works when he clenches his teeth. Bullseye. “Deal.” He turns toward his men. “Show me.”

Three of them pull medals from around their necks; the rest shake their heads, indicating they don’t wear one. He turns to Eddie.

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