Page 45 of Conor
“At my house?”
“That would be the one.”
“Unfuckingbelievable.” I flip a quick bitch and turn the car around. “I’m on my way.”
Ten minutes later, I park on the street and beat it up the stairs. Dom left the door unlocked for me and he wasn’t shitting me. Slick is inside, hog tied on my parlor floor.
“He really is a fecking eejit,” I say.
Dom snorts. “Can honestly say this is a first. I think he came back for the kid.”
I remove my jacket and toss it onto the sofa. Slick looks up at me with a fat lip, and I boot him in the stomach to get the show started. “I guess you didn’t get the message last time.”
He launches into a coughing fit and curls his knees up in an attempt to protect himself. But he won’t find me to be a merciful man twice.
“My son will kill her if I’m not back in the hour,” he wheezes.
“Doubtful.” I kick him in the teeth this time, and he shrieks as blood pours from his mouth. “Unless he wants to die too.”
“Fuck you!” Slick garbles. “Fuck you motherfucking son of a bitch!”
I kneel down and meet his eyes. “You have two options here, fuckface. I’ll give ye enough credit to believe ye’re aware how this ends. You crossed me, and you’ll die for it. Simple as that. But you can make it real easy, or real hard.”
Slick looks between us, and he knows he’s fucked. “Christ, just take her. It’s your fucking funeral, I don’t care. Take back your little whore—”
I wrap my fingers around his throat and squeeze until his eyes are about to pop out of his head. “Where is she?”
“Highland,” he rattles when I let up. “My office on Highland. There aren’t any numbers on the building, but the door is green. You can’t miss it.”
I look to Dom. “Drop him at the club for me, will ye?”
He nods. “Reaper’s outside. You’re not going alone.”
At this point, I wouldn’t care. I know where Ivy is, and if I have to burn this city to the ground to get to her, I will.
My heart is beating so hard it feels like I just snorted six kilos of coke, and even worse is the sound of my own thoughts fucking up my head. “You get anything else out of those Locos?”
Reaper shakes his head. “Nah. Squeezed everything I could out of them. They weren’t talking.”
I turn down Highland and slow to a crawl as we keep a lookout for a green door.
“Have a look at these blockheads.” Reaper gestures up ahead. “What do ye suppose they’re doing?”
“I don’t know.”
Slick’s office is in the heart of gangland, and more importantly, Locos territory. They are out on every corner tonight, but from the looks of it, something is going down up ahead. There are three blokes standing guard at the end of an alley, and they’re on high alert when they see our headlights. It’s too dark for them to make out our faces, but I recognize theirs.
“Pull around the corner,” Ronan says.
I pull around the corner and flip a bitch. It’s hard to say what’s going down in that alley, but it’s too coincidental to be ignored.
“I’m not usually a man to shoot first and ask questions later.” Reaper starts digging around in the duffle bag he brought with us. “But in this case, it might have to do.”
“Aye, I think ye’re right.”
“Drive by again, slow like,” he instructs.
I turn the corner, and Ronan attaches a silencer onto his Glock. We aren’t twenty feet away when the tires slow to a creep and he leans against the open window, obscuring the gun beneath his coat sleeve.
