Page 25 of ’Til You Break

No surprise there. I have the ringleader in the palm of my hand, yet I’m asking about his lackeys. Frank remembers how hard I hit and shifts uneasily against the pillows.

“Three guys,” he continues. “Been working with ’em for years. The one in charge is a skinny motherfucker. Black hair, leathery skin—”

It’s been years, and my memories of that night are blurred by everything that happened.

But this could be him.

“The other two are twins. Aryan dreamboat types.”

“The one in charge—does he carry a knife?”

Of all the details from that night, the rosewood handle remains the clearest. It’s been a long time since I saw the weapon. He may have replaced it by now. But if he’s the sentimental type, it could still be part of his arsenal.

“I’m sure they all do,” Frank says. “But yeah, he carries a knife. Uses it to cut apples, then spits the pips onto my carpet.”

His genuine irritation almost amuses me.

It’s a long shot, but this is the closest I’ve ever come to finding the men who killed my mother. I won’t leave a single stone unturned.

“Where’s your phone?”

He nods towards the bedside table.

“Unlock it.”

He does. Without waiting for another instruction, he opens a message thread with the man in question. I scan the latest exchanges. They keep everything brief. Meeting places. Times. Payment confirmations.

Brilliant.

A message sent from Frank’s phone won’t raise suspicion. To the man on the other end, it will look like business as usual.

Lovemore’s. Nine. Saturday.

I pocket the phone and look down at Frank once more.

“Now, what am I going to do with you?”

Frank stammers something, but I can’t make out the words.

The sensible choice would be to end this. Put a bullet in Frank Coleman and forget his pathetic existence. Unfortunately, he may prove more useful alive than dead.

There’s a greater mystery behind my mother’s death and killing one of my few remaining sources would make finding the truth far more difficult.

So instead, I hit him again. Once. Twice. Then several more times for good measure.

It doesn’t take long before Frank becomes a motionless heap on the bed.

I’ll have someone collect him before the night is over.

Chapter Nine

Hannah

Ihaven’t seen Vik since the club.

Mainly because I’ve been too embarrassed to leave my bedroom whenever I hear him around the house. Luckily, he hasn’t been home much. He’s either at work, in meetings, or wherever the heck he disappears to during the day, leaving me with the place pretty much to myself.

Today’s different, though. It’s late morning, and Vik’s car is still parked in the driveway.