Page 75 of Savage Little Lies

Pain pulses through my right hand as I step back from Enrico Ferro, blood dripping from his split lip onto the concrete. His groans echo in the storage room in the back of one of my antique stores.

“How many times do I have to break your face before you tell me something useful?” I question him as I pace around him, giving my hand a light shake to soothe the ache.

I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve punched him tonight. It’s already past sunrise now, and he hasn’t coughed up the information that I want. I still think that he’s hiding something.

“I don’t know anything!” Enrico snaps at me as he tries to pull against the restraints trapping him to the chair that he’s sitting in. He spits out blood onto the floor next to my foot, his teeth stained red. “We didn’t order the shooting!”

“But what about the other Italians? There are more than just you, and I know that you work together,” I reply as I stalk closer while my men linger behind me to guard the door.

“We don’t know everything that they do!” Enrico replies. “You’re a moron if you think we’re up each other’s asses like that!”

I grab the front of his white dry-fit shirt, blood stains marking the fabric. “Do you really want to test me right now?”

Enrico flinches as I jerk him forward, his breathing becoming labored. “Just let me go! We weren’t behind the attack! I swear!”

“That area is swarming with you Italians, who didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat when I showed up in town. You must have an idea of who the shooters could be,” I growl in his face. I still haven’t been able to shake my frustration from my meeting with Artur.

“I don’t fucking know! How many times do I have to say that?” Enrico asks.

“Your crew must have heard something about the shooting. Tell me,” I snap at him before shoving him back into his seat, knocking the air out of his lungs. I put my back to him, shaking my head bitterly. “You really don’t want to piss me off today. I’ve had enough of this already.”

“Sir,” Gabe says from the doorway.

I let out a heavy huff before following Gabe out of the back room and into the small hallway. “What is it?”

“It’s Cara,” Gabe replies as he shows me his phone. “She says that she needs to talk to you about something important, and you’re not picking up your phone.”

I check the time on my watch. I should be at the office at this hour. “I’m not done here. Have someone drive her over.”

I go back into the room, making Enrico tense up at the sight of me. He doesn’t get a word out before I slam my fist against his jaw, making blood fly from his lips and splatter on the concrete floor.

“What the fuck?” Enrico cries out.

“Give me the name of someone who can help me better than you,” I tell him as I grab his jaw, forcing his eyes back on mine.

Blood drips down his chin as he glares up at me, pain written all over his face. “I’m not selling out my own men to you!”

“Give me a name. I don’t care if it’s one of your men or someone from another family,” I say as I tighten my grip, making him grimace in pain. “Tell me the name of someone in this city who can find out information most people can’t.”

Enrico’s breathing quickens, blood and sweat matting his short, black hair. “You’re just going to kill me when I give you a name.”

“If you give me a name, I’ll spare you,” I tell him, not wanting to deal with the trouble of disposing of another body, or starting another war. I have enough on my plate right now. “Try to retaliate, and I won’t come after you first. I’ll start with the people you visit on Sundays.”

“Bastard,” Enrico grits out.

“Do you have a name for me or not? I’ll let you sit in here and rot,” I warn him as I lean closer.

“Fine, okay! Briggs! Evan Briggs,” Enrico tells me, a defeated, exhausted sigh trailing his words. “He’s not part of our family or any of the others. He’s just a regular guy, but he-he knows things.”

“He’s an informant?” I ask, releasing my grip on his jaw so that he can continue speaking.

“I guess you could call him that,” Enrico replies. “He sells information. Highest bidder wins.”

“Where can I find him?” I question him.

“I don’t know where he lives. He floats from place to place, but he’s usually hanging around the Strip,” Enrico tells me with a weak shrug. “He’s a short guy with curly red hair. He’s hard to miss.”

I eye him, making sure that he’s telling me the truth and not lying right to my face. I guess I won’t truly know until I find this Evan Briggs guy. “You’ll sit tight until I find this guy. If he checks out, you’re free to go.”