Page 52 of Twisted Control

“You know what? I’m not in the fucking mood.” I glance down at my suit. “This is my favorite suit.”

“Spare us the fashion talk,” Levi says dryly. “My sitter charges by the hour. Wrap it up.”

I crouch in front of Jamie again, knife in hand.

“If you so much as whisper Grace Whitmore’s name again—if I even think she’s crossed your mind—I will kill you. Slowly. And I’ll probably do it for free because I don’t like the look of you. Do you understand me?”

He nods frantically, tears mixing with the blood on his cheek.

“Good.”

I wipe the blade clean on his uniform, snap it shut, and stand, smoothing down my jacket.

“I trust I don’t need to spell out what happens if you repeat any of this,” I say. “But just in case you’re slow⁠—”

“Christ, you love the sound of your own voice,” Levi interrupts.

I glance at him, then back down at Jamie. “Talk and I kill you.”

Back in the Mustang, Levi peels out faster than usual, clearly thinking about his babysitter. Three blocks later, we slam to a stop at a red light. The silence is heavy.

“You going soft?” Levi asks, eyes still on the light. “You didn’t even shank the guy.”

“I told you, I like this suit,” I mutter, adjusting my cuffs.

“And what was all that ‘she’s nice’ bullshit?” He glances over, smirking. “Since when are you handing out character references during a shakedown? ‘She’s misunderstood. She’s had such a hard life in her mansion with her ponies⁠—’”

“Fuck off.”

Levi chuckles. Then his smile drops. He pulls his phone out and starts typing. I see Grace’s name flash across the screen and lunge for it, but he’s faster. The knife he’d been sharpening is pressed to my jugular before I can even blink.

“Easy,” he murmurs. With his left hand, he turns the phone toward me.

A high-res photo of Grace fills the screen—the one from the proposal in that white dress. She looks unreal.

Levi lets out a long, disgusted breath. “You absolute fucking moron.”

He locks the phone, drops it in his lap, and finally pulls the knife away. The light turns green and he guns it, taking the corner too sharp.

“I always knew your dick would get you killed one day,” Levi mutters, shaking his head. “But a clients daughter? Jesus fucking Christ.”

“I haven’t done anything,” I lie.

Levi gives me the flattest look known to man.

He guns the engine through the next light. “When her psycho father finds out you’ve been balls-deep in his little princess, he’s gonna want your head on a fucking stick.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious. Hadn’t thought of that⁠—”

“And guess who’s gonna have to be the one to actually do it?” Levi asks, voice completely flat. “Me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter. “You threaten to kill me so often it’s basically a greeting now.”

Levi’s expression doesn’t change. “Never been ordered to do it before, have I? Ray’s always had a soft spot for you—fuck knows why. But this?” He shakes his head slowly. “Pissing off a client like this is different. I can already hear him.”

He drops his voice into a perfect, gravelly imitation of Ray.

“Your boy crossed the line. Time to sort him out.”