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“I trust that Tom Emmet is still alive?” Devlin asked, an edge to his voice.
Carver sat up, running a hand through his hair. “He’s alive. Bound, gagged, and missing a few teeth, fingers, and toes, but alive,” he answered.
Devlin nodded, his expression shifting to one of approval.
“Good. We need him to be able to talk,” Devlin said.
Carver clenched his jaw. He knew how furious Devlin got when someone stole from them, and Tom Emmet was either brave or stupid for taking what amounted to several thousand dollars’ worth of cocaine.
Emmet knew the only reason he was still alive was because he hadn’t yet revealed to Carver where he hid the goods, but that wouldn’t last long. Eventually, they all talked under his knife.
“I’ll get what we need out of him. You don’t have to worry about that,” Carver said.
“I never doubted it,” Devlin said, his tone softening slightly. He moved to sit on the armchair opposite the sofa, crossing one leg over the other. “You look like you could use a real meal. Take a break. Stop by the house and let my chef make you a hearty breakfast.”
Carver grunted, not in the mood for small talk. “I’ve got things under control. You didn’t need to come here,” he said.
Devlin shrugged. “Maybe I just missed my baby brother,” Devlin said.
Carver rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. Despite everything, there was a bond between them that couldn’t be broken.
“Yeah, well, I’m touched. But you should go,” Carver said.
Devlin’s expression grew serious again. “Just remember, Carver, we’re in this together. If you encounter a problem, you call me. Don’t try to do everything on your own,” Devlin reminded him.
“I know,” Carver replied, meeting his brother’s gaze. “But I’ve got this. Trust me.”
Devlin studied him for a moment before nodding. “All right. Just don’t forget to eat something. And clean yourself up. You look like hell.”
With that, Devlin stood and made his way to the door. As he left, Carver couldn’t help but feel a mixture of relief and frustration. He appreciated his brother’s concern, but he needed the space to handle things his own way.
As the door closed behind Devlin, Carver took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering tension. He needed to focus. There was still a lot to do, and he couldn’t afford any distractions.
His mind wandered briefly to Lucy, wondering what she was doing right now. Probably going for her usual morning jog before heading to work. He hoped she hadn’t heard any of the conversation or seen Devlin leave. But for now, he had to put those thoughts aside.
Carver stood and headed to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face to wake himself up fully. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, seeing the tired lines and dark circles under his eyes.
He couldn’t let this life wear him down. He had to stay sharp, for his sake and for those he cared about.
After freshening up, he made his way to the back room. The door creaked as he opened it, revealing Tom Emmet still bound to the chair, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and defiance.
“Morning, Emmet,” Carver said, his voice steady. “Ready for the next round?”
The man glared at him but remained silent. Carver sighed, pulling up a chair and sitting down in front of him. “Look, Tom, you know I can keep you alive for a long time,” Carver began.
Emmet’s gaze flickered, and Carver could see the resolve starting to crack. It was only a matter of time before he got what he needed.
The image of Lucy’s hazel eyes and kind smile lingered in the back of his mind as he picked up the next tool on his little table. After he took care of Emmet, maybe he could ask her if she wanted to watch a movie together.
Chapter Three
Lucy woke up that morning, the tendrils of her erotic dream still lingering in her head. The dream had been vivid, almost real.
She could still recall Carver gripping her hair, pressing his hot mouth over hers, cornering her against the wall.
Lucy, begging him to do whatever he wanted with her. She sighed, slipping her hand under her pillow, feeling the reassuring cold metal of her gun.
Lucy used to think that despite the broken-down building she lived in, with its peeling wallpaper and creaky floors, there was a small corner of safety thanks to Carver, but she wasn’t sure anymore.
