Page 52 of Fatal Strike
He leaned toward Jon, his dark eyes flaring like a lit match. “Sorta hard for me to do anyone in when I’m locked up. Why do you think I’d help you?”
“Because we can pull strings to make life easier.”
Rawlyns snorted. “You aren’t the first suit who’s tried that approach.”
“I’m thinking a once-a-week upgrade meal is better than the stuff served here.”
Rawlyns hesitated. “I’m listening.”
“Arresting officer Ian Greer, prosecuting attorney Marcia Trevelle, and Judge Nicolás Mendez are dead. We find it interesting since they were a part of your case.”
“You askin’ if I ordered the hits?”
“Did you?”
“I should have. But I didn’t.” He pointed to his chest where a tat identified his gang. “I’m a Texan Warlord, not a Veneno.”
“But you’re a smart man. You know what’s going on inside and out.” Obviously news about the three deaths being tied to the Veneno gang had reached this prison.
“I’d rather talk to the pretty lady.” Rawlyns leered at her.
Leah smiled at the lifer, but it was a kind gesture, not a come-on. “You’re saying the Venenos handled those murders?”
“Haven’t they let everyone know it was them? You have interesting eyes. Full lips too. Real kissable.”
Jon pinned Rawlyns with a stern look that said,Back off.
“Names?” Leah said.
“Can’t help you there.”
“What is the Galveston gang into? Drugs? Prostitution? Alien smuggling?”
“Notreconquista.”
Jon made a mental note. Solid hit.
She sighed. “What’s their moneymaker?”
“No clue.”
“Does the name Dylan Ortega mean anything to you?”
Jon watched Rawlyns—not a muscle twitch or a blink.
“Never heard of him.”
“He did eleven months across the road,” Leah said.
Rawlyns shook his head. “Now how would I know that?”
“Where would the gang get their supply of venom?”
“Ask one of them.”
“Were Greer, Trevelle, or Judge Mendez getting too close?”
He laughed. “Meet my price—dinner, dancing, a bottle of tequila, and you in a short red dress—and maybe I’ll tell you.”
