Consent (The Loan Shark Duet 2)

“No hard feelings,” he mumbles, moving his jaw from side to side.

I walk closer and stop over him, gritting out my words. “I wasn’t done.”

“He wasn’t going to tell you anything,” Scott says.

Bullshit. He was going to tell me a whole lot more, and I want my answers. Going down on my haunches, I grab Scott’s right hand and push back his middle finger. “Guess what, Goldie Locks? You’re going to stand in for the man you killed.”

He grunts when I apply pressure. “You can’t touch me. I’m on Magda’s payroll.”

This does it. Black dots pop in my vision. “The thing, you see, is I don’t give a fuck.”

Uncertainty creeps into his eyes. The way his pupils are bouncing around as he takes stock of the room tells me he’s considering his options. Fight or flight. He tries to pry his finger free, but I push back more. Before he snatches the gun on the floor, I use my free hand to slide it in Rhett’s direction. When his fist comes up, I grab and squeeze until he gnashes his teeth.

“Why did you shoot him, Scott?”

He spits next to my feet. “Fuck you.”

“If that’s how we’re playing, very well.” A bit more pressure and his finger snaps above the knuckle.

A chilling cry fills the room. For such a big man he has a high-pitched voice. He’ll make a good soprano.

I let go of his fist and move to his thumb. “You have nine fingers and ten toes left. This can take a while.”

He grunts and wheezes as I bend the digit back. His muscles tighten. He thinks I won’t see the blow coming, but I’ve been on the block far longer than him. I duck when his fist whizzes past my face and retaliate with a few punches in his ribs. Another one in his stomach takes out his wind.

“Fuck. Ouch.” He coughs and gurgles. “Fucking shit.”

Snap. That was his thumb.

His cry is ugly this time. From the doors slamming and the feet running on the landing, I gather people are fleeing the building. A gunshot is nothing new. Most people wait it out, hiding behind locked doors. Screams, they’re a totally different ballgame. Nobody wants to be tortured, and if the neighbor isn’t talking, chances are whoever is making him scream will come for you.

Scott is rolling around on the floor, curling into a fetal position. “You shit. You broke my thumb.”

“If I do both trigger fingers you’re out of business. Won’t be much of a guard without a trigger finger, will you?”

“I know fuck-all.” He grunts through his pain.

“I’ll ask you one last time. Why did you shoot Jerry?”

“I was following orders.”

I jerk him into a sitting position. “Whose orders?”

“Mrs. Louw’s. All I know, is she told me to take care of him.” His look is cutting. “It’s not my job to ask questions.”

I believe him. Rhett gives a small nod. He agrees.

“Take him back to the car,” I say.

As Rhett is helping a bent-over Scott downstairs, I go through the flat, but find nothing of interest. Popping the Monopoly cat in my pocket, I close the door and join the men.

“Drive Scott home,” I tell Quincy. “Rhett, keep a gun on him, just in case.”

Scott is fuming when they bundle him into the back, but he’s quiet. He’s too clever to insult me again.

Pulling off ahead of them, I race north on Jan Smuts Avenue with the speed of the devil. I need more answers, and Magda will give them. She’s working at the loan office in Yeoville today.

I barge straight into her office without knocking. “Why did you order Scott to shoot Jerry?”

“Gabriel.” Her manner is non-startled as she gets up and rounds her desk. “He was a nuisance.”

Mad anger coils through my insides, pulling my gut tight. “A nuisance? That’s enough reason for a killing?”

“That’s not it, and you know it. He was starting to cause problems.”

“You know what I think?” I close the distance. “I think you wanted to shut him up.”

A laugh bubbles from her throat. “Shut him up?”

“He was about to tell me what you ordered him to do.”

“Me? Give him an order? Are you out of your mind? The only contact I had with Jerry was to get more information on Charlie Haynes’ whereabouts.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“You’d believe that low-life car thief over me? Jerry was scared. Of course he’d spew all kinds of bullshit.” She crosses her arms. “Believe what you will, I did your job for you. Jerry gave your wife a car––a stolen car, may I add––to run away from you. If you were man enough he would’ve been dead the minute I gave you the information.”

“My first priority was finding Valentina. After that I had other priorities.”

“Like fucking her?”

To prevent myself from strangling Magda, I plaster my fists at my sides. “You won’t speak about my wife like that.”