Twisted Lies (Twisted 4)

I straightened, then paused.

“Ah, I forgot you wanted to try the whiskey.” I picked up his glass and tilted it. The contents dripped onto his ravaged hand until the glass was empty and Frank’s renewed screams bounced off the walls.

Hmm. Guess he has some voice left in him after all.

There was nothing like a bit of alcohol on an open wound to drive home the pain.

“Don’t worry about reimbursing me for the wasted alcohol,” I said. “I’ll take it out of your account. Argent Bank, account number 904058891314, routing number 087945660, correct?”

He stared at me, his eyes swollen with tears and glassy with pain.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” I patted his cheek. “Let’s keep this between us, shall we? I’d hate for us to have another chat.”

I made it halfway to the door before I stopped. A mental image of the fucker grabbing Stella’s ass flashed through my mind, and the rage resurfaced, churning like icy black waves beneath my skin.

“I changed my mind.” I turned. “I’m not in a good mood after all.”

The gunshot ripped through the air. Frank slumped onto the desk with a hole in the back of his head and open, lifeless eyes.

I tucked the gun back into my jacket and exited into the hall, where Kage lounged against the wall.

“Don’t tell me you shot him,” he said when he saw me. The office was soundproofed, but he correctly assessed my expression. “What a fucking mess.”

“He pissed me off.” I checked my watch. Dammit. The only grocery store that sold Stella’s favorite salsa closed in fifteen minutes. “Clean that up for me, will you?”

“I always do,” he said dryly.

Not everyone at Harper Security knew about the less legal side of the business, but Kage had seen enough shit in his life to keep his morals flexible. The world wasn’t black and white; no one knew that better than someone who’d lived in the gray.

I washed my hands in the bathroom on my way out and inspected my clothes for any specks of blood before I gunned it to the grocery store.