here—and that nothing stops me from collecting on a debt.”
I shook my head. “Isabelle doesn’t owe you anything. You want to beat the shit out of someone, go talk to Paul.”
“Ah, but you see, Paulie doesn’t have two nickels to rub together, whereas Mrs. Vargas is about to come into a very hefty life-insurance settlement.” Bart grinned, baring his teeth at me. “But then, you know all about that, since you’re the reason her husband is dead. Right, Finn?”
I froze at the sound of my name.
“Oh, yeah.” Bart sneered at me again. “I know exactly who you are. Finnegan Lane, one of Gin Blanco’s little lapdogs. And you know what else? Word’s gotten around about that attempted robbery at First Trust and how you opened the front doors and let those thieves walk right in. How does it feel, being played for such a fool? And by your own mama, no less?”
He threw his head back and laughed, and his two goons joined in with loud, hearty chuckles.
Red-hot rage scorched through me, along with the familiar bitter waves of guilt and shame, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment, despite the cold air. But I forced myself to remain calm in the face of the giant’s cruel taunts.
“Get in your car, leave, and never come back here again,” I said through gritted teeth. “And I’ll let you live.”
“ You ? Will let me live?” Bart’s low, sinister laughter echoed through the night like dark, ominous thunder. “Oh, that’s cute.”
“Leave right now,” I warned. “Or you won’t like what happens next.”
He quit laughing and eyed me again. “You know what? I would maybe be a little bit intimidated by you, except for one small thing.”
“What’s that?”
The giant slowly turned around in a circle and made a big show of looking up and down the empty street before throwing his hands out wide. “The fact that Blanco’s not here to back up your petty threats.”
“I—”
I started to say that I didn’t need Gin to fight my battles, but Bart had already turned back toward his goons.
He waved his hand in my direction. “Kill him. Then come on up to the house, and we’ll have some fun with the grieving widow.”
Bart laughed again and started striding up the lawn toward the porch.
Isabelle must have heard us talking, because she was standing in front of one of the picture windows. The giant grinned again, raised his hand, and blew her a loud, smacking kiss. Isabelle’s eyes widened, and she darted away from the window, probably to lock the front door, although that wouldn’t slow Bart down for more than a few seconds. I needed to stop the giant before he smashed his way into the house and hurt her.
I headed after him, but the two goons stepped in front of me, blocking my path. The men grinned and slapped their baseball bats in their hands, trying to intimidate me. They thought those bats and their inherent giant strength made them tougher than me.
Maybe. But all that certainly didn’t make them smarter .
Even as the first giant raised his weapon and stepped toward me, I pulled my gun out of my coat pocket and shot him in the knee.
Pfft!
The silenced gun barely made a whisper, but the same couldn’t be said for the giant, who yelped in pain, dropped his bat, and tumbled to the asphalt. It would have been easier to shoot him again, but more rage surged through me, and I decided to let it out. So I darted forward, dug my fingers into his greased hair, and slammed his head up against the side of the SUV repeatedly, putting as much force behind each blow as I could.
Thwack-thwack-thwack .
Three good, solid whacks later, I let go. The giant’s moans abruptly cut off, and he slumped to the street, blood gushing out of the ugly dents I’d just put in his skull. They matched the ones in the SUV.
He wouldn’t be getting up from those wounds—ever—so I whirled around to the second guy, who was already cursing, dropping his bat, and going for the gun tucked into his waistband. He
I shook my head. “Isabelle doesn’t owe you anything. You want to beat the shit out of someone, go talk to Paul.”
“Ah, but you see, Paulie doesn’t have two nickels to rub together, whereas Mrs. Vargas is about to come into a very hefty life-insurance settlement.” Bart grinned, baring his teeth at me. “But then, you know all about that, since you’re the reason her husband is dead. Right, Finn?”
I froze at the sound of my name.
“Oh, yeah.” Bart sneered at me again. “I know exactly who you are. Finnegan Lane, one of Gin Blanco’s little lapdogs. And you know what else? Word’s gotten around about that attempted robbery at First Trust and how you opened the front doors and let those thieves walk right in. How does it feel, being played for such a fool? And by your own mama, no less?”
He threw his head back and laughed, and his two goons joined in with loud, hearty chuckles.
Red-hot rage scorched through me, along with the familiar bitter waves of guilt and shame, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment, despite the cold air. But I forced myself to remain calm in the face of the giant’s cruel taunts.
“Get in your car, leave, and never come back here again,” I said through gritted teeth. “And I’ll let you live.”
“ You ? Will let me live?” Bart’s low, sinister laughter echoed through the night like dark, ominous thunder. “Oh, that’s cute.”
“Leave right now,” I warned. “Or you won’t like what happens next.”
He quit laughing and eyed me again. “You know what? I would maybe be a little bit intimidated by you, except for one small thing.”
“What’s that?”
The giant slowly turned around in a circle and made a big show of looking up and down the empty street before throwing his hands out wide. “The fact that Blanco’s not here to back up your petty threats.”
“I—”
I started to say that I didn’t need Gin to fight my battles, but Bart had already turned back toward his goons.
He waved his hand in my direction. “Kill him. Then come on up to the house, and we’ll have some fun with the grieving widow.”
Bart laughed again and started striding up the lawn toward the porch.
Isabelle must have heard us talking, because she was standing in front of one of the picture windows. The giant grinned again, raised his hand, and blew her a loud, smacking kiss. Isabelle’s eyes widened, and she darted away from the window, probably to lock the front door, although that wouldn’t slow Bart down for more than a few seconds. I needed to stop the giant before he smashed his way into the house and hurt her.
I headed after him, but the two goons stepped in front of me, blocking my path. The men grinned and slapped their baseball bats in their hands, trying to intimidate me. They thought those bats and their inherent giant strength made them tougher than me.
Maybe. But all that certainly didn’t make them smarter .
Even as the first giant raised his weapon and stepped toward me, I pulled my gun out of my coat pocket and shot him in the knee.
Pfft!
The silenced gun barely made a whisper, but the same couldn’t be said for the giant, who yelped in pain, dropped his bat, and tumbled to the asphalt. It would have been easier to shoot him again, but more rage surged through me, and I decided to let it out. So I darted forward, dug my fingers into his greased hair, and slammed his head up against the side of the SUV repeatedly, putting as much force behind each blow as I could.
Thwack-thwack-thwack .
Three good, solid whacks later, I let go. The giant’s moans abruptly cut off, and he slumped to the street, blood gushing out of the ugly dents I’d just put in his skull. They matched the ones in the SUV.
He wouldn’t be getting up from those wounds—ever—so I whirled around to the second guy, who was already cursing, dropping his bat, and going for the gun tucked into his waistband. He
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