Page 64 of Mercy & Malice

He shouts, “Tell you what? What are you talking about? What do you mean?”

“Don’t fuck with me. You can confess or I can painfully pry the information from you. Torture and torment you just like you did to us.”

“Confess to what? Us? I haven’t done anything to you or anyone else. What the hell are you talking about? Did your father put you up to this?”

“Ah, so you know the ringleader.” The mention of him only pisses me off more.

Luca asks, “Do you know where he’s at?”

Davenport flicks his frightened eyes between my brother and me. “Why the fuck would I know where Montclair is?”

I turn to Luca. “I don’t buy it.”

Quickly standing, I place the knife at his throat, applying slight pressure before he shouts, “I don’t know where he’s at. Why would I? He was blackmailing me, so I did him a favor. That’s it I swear. I haven’t spoken to him since.”

That’s when I lose my patience. “Tell me exactly what you did for my father. Start to finish. Your existence depends on it.”

He takes mere seconds before he confesses. “There were some indiscretions on my part that Montclair found out about. I don’t know how, but he knew everything. Things that would ruin my life.”

“What did you do for him?”

“He wanted me to get Guidry to meet me at a bar. So, I arranged it. Then he told me I had to cover for him at work and make it look like he was taking some time off so no one would miss him. And I did. I put in the paperwork.”

Luca asks, “You sold out your partner to cover your own ass.”

“That son of a bitch was a loose cannon I tried to rein in for years. I’m fucking sick of it. So yeah, I covered my own ass because that’s what he would’ve done to me.”

“What else did you do for him?”

“That’s it. I swear. I haven’t heard a word from him since. I expected to. I figured the favors would be endless since he had dirt on me.”

If he’s not the third guy, then I have it wrong again. And that means the Collector is still out there. But I need to make sure. “Do you know what happened to Brent Guidry?”

He shakes his head quickly as he closes his eyes. “I didn’t want to know. I knew Montclair didn’t just want a friendly conversation with the guy after he kept harassing his ex and daughter for so long.”

I ask, “So, you didn’t see your buddy getting murdered? You weren’t standing by, wearing a disguise, and hiding like a fucking coward to save your own ass?”

“He really is dead?” Davenport gapes at Luca to see if he’ll give him another story. One that doesn’t involve him sending his buddy to his death. But he slowly accepts the truth as he mumbles, “Deep down, I knew it. But getting the confirmation is different. Are you sure?”

The pity he has pisses me off. No one should mourn Brent Guidry. I stab the blade into his thigh as he wails, “What the fuck? Why are you doing this to me?” The bastard cries as he hunches over as much as the binding will allow. “Please, I swear that’s all I did. I never wanted this. I figured you’d be happy the guy is gone after he harassed you too.”

He’s either a really good actor or wasn’t the Collector. “You have one last chance to tell me the truth and earn a sliver of hope to walk out of here.”

That’ll never happen, but he needs to think there’s a chance he’ll survive this. Or he’ll feel like he has nothing to lose. “Are you the Collector? Did you help my father kidnap Brooke and keep us in a fucking cage?”

His eyes widen as he shouts, “No, no. I swear on everything holy I didn’t do anything like that. I just arranged the meetup. I didn’t even know why. I didn’t care. The bastard made everyone miserable. I’d never hurt Brooke. I watched her grow up. She’s like a daughter to me.”

“You sat by for years while Brent beat her and Tara.”

His ashamed expression reveals exactly what I thought. He knew his partner was abusing his wife and daughter and turned a blind eye to it. “Do you know what’s worse than a coward who puts his hands on a woman? The jackass who looks the other way, knowing it’s happening, and doesn’t do a fucking thing to stop it.”

He sputters, “I-I tried, I swear. I kept telling him that he needed to get help. That he had to control himself. And if he didn’t stop, I’d step in.”

“Yet, you never did. Instead, you covered for him the night he almost killed Tara. You confirmed he was on shift with you that night.”

Davenport goes completely still, his silence filling the air for a solid minute before he utters, “If I could do things differently, I would.”

“It’s too late for regrets.” I pull the knife out of his thigh, wiping it on his pants as I stand over him.