Page 2 of The Silent Note

My heart pounds with adrenaline, but I keep the sight of it from my face. My mask is my smile.

I tilt my head to the side and gesture to him. “Says me.”

An ugly grin twists his lips. His shoulders shake as he laughs.

I smirk along with him, pretending I’m in on the joke.

A second passes.

Two.

Finally, his laughter settles into low chuckles. “You’re Cross’s kid, but you’re nothing like your pops.” Those hazy eyes flicker up and down, stopping at the sling cradling my wrist. “You lack the finesse.”

I doubt Slavno knows he just paid me a compliment. Sharing Jarod Cross’s genes doesn’t mean I want to be like him.

“Are you saying you won’t talk when the time comes?” I clarify.

“Does your daddy know you’re here?”

The question has me smirking at the table. Last I checked, dad was on another ‘tour’, far away from the crap storm he instigated. I’m not surprised he ran. Dad tends to skip town when someone around us is about to die.

Which is why I need to work fast before he has a chance to shut any mouths.

“No.” Slavno wipes his eyes with a giant thumb and the handcuffs binding him catch the light, throwing it back against the thick, reinforced walls. “No, you didn’t have daddy’s permission, did you? And that means I won’t tell you jack.”

I shrug, still smiling at him. “I’ll give you two minutes to change your mind.”

His eyes narrow, sizing me up, lingering on my broken wrist, on the white cast that chaffs like hell, on the sling my brothers insisted I wear even if it makes me look like a pansy.

I see him mentally calculating how easy it would be to charge over the table and choke me with the very handcuffs keeping him imprisoned.

And yet, he hesitates.

Probably because I’m still smiling, still lounging, still perfectly carefree.

Nothing more psychotic than looking death in the face and making a joke of it.

Before the silence can stretch any longer, I nod to him. “Look, you don’t know me. It’s understandable. So I’ll give you one more opportunity to agree on your own. If you do, I’ll make sure you can at least walk when I bring my guest to see you.”

“I could pop your head right off your neck,” he threatens, but his voice trembles. He runs jagged fingernails over the needle marks on his arm.

“Not before I stab your throat.” I fondle the pin in my cast, the only metal that was allowed through at the entrance.

He stalls, staring at me.

I don a patronizing smile, waiting for him to make a move.

But he doesn’t.

Maybe because he can see the recklessness in my eyes. The desire for a fight. I’ve been so damncoddledsince Hall broke my wrist. I haven’t beaten a drum since that night. The restlessness has been building, mounting, sweeping over me like a tsunami.

This pin won’t do much damage. Hell, it’ll probably break against Slavno’s thick neck, but I can at least get a few punches in before the idiot breaks my other wrist.

Slavno looks away first and folds his arms over his chest, a silent protest.

“Okay.” I place my good hand on the table and push myself up.

I shuffle to the door and knock on it twice. There’s an answering knock and then the door swings open.