Page 53 of Devil's Claim

Often, I took hours simply to send a message to others. The bloodier, the better.

That usually calmed the waters for weeks, if not months.

But with a man like Malcolm, too much effort just wasn’t worth it.

Besides, I had a plane to catch.

“I don’t like you, Malcolm. Not at all. And when I don’t like someone, they tend to get on my nerves. When that happens, I become cranky. Tell him what happens when I get cranky, Benito.” I lifted my head toward the man and immediately Malcolm was on his feet. “Sit. Please. His answer doesn’t require your approval or your opinion.”

Fortunately for him, he didn’t argue with me, easing back down onto the couch.

“The boss isn’t a happy man,” Benito said. He knew what I was like when I got into one of my moods. The less he said, the better, because he could egg me on, and forget unhinged. I’d shift straight into irrationally disturbed.

That meant people died in a very messy way.

“Who are you, Malcolm, and why bother hooking up with Christine? Why the change to Tonya?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

He was already grating on my last nerve. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You were going to marry one, but oops, decided on the other. That meant you and your family had something better to gain. What is it?”

He didn’t seem inclined to respond. With barely any movement, I shot the bottle in his hand, shattering the glass all over him. He jumped several feet off the couch, yelping like some kid. If the immediate stench told me anything, it was that he’d pissed in his fine linen trousers.

Antics weren’t typical, but I wanted answers and with a child in the house, I refused to allow him to accidentally wander into a horrible situation that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

“One more time and my aim will be a little to the left and a few inches higher.” He knew exactly what I was getting at and covered his prized jewels with one hand.

At least he was paling.

And coming close to slobbering.

“What do you want from me?” he asked, as if he hadn’t understood the straightforward question.

“The truth. Nothing more. Nothing less. If you’re a good boy, I might allow you to live. That’s up to how much you cooperate.” I moved closer, placing one foot on the coffee table. If he could do it, so could his guests.

He swallowed again and darted a quick glance toward Benito as Carlos came forward from the other side. Now he knew he was surrounded.

Just in case he’d had any thoughts of running away.

“It’s up to you,” I told him.

Malcolm shifted on the seat. “Look, I do what I’m told. That’s it. I was supposed to marry that bitch, but she didn’t want to play ball.”

The analogy alone pissed me off. Who’d want to play with him?

“But you decided to stick it to her by taking her son. Classy.”

“He’s my blood. My heir.”

Now we were getting somewhere. “Go on.”

His nervousness continued, sweat beading across his forehead.

“Other arrangements were made. So what? Tonya was a better catch anyway.”

“What would it matter to you?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care. I do what I’m told. I stand to inherit everything.”