Page 58 of Tempted By Blood

His girl.

Those two words made my belly wobble and my pussy clench.

Again, Rupert nodded, now drooling out of the corner of his mouth.

Pathetic.

“Who killed my father?” I didn’t see a need to beat around the bush, and I knew this poor bastard didn’t have the balls to end anyone’s life. He was just the middleman.

Silas loosened his grip enough for Rupert to speak. “I-I don’t know. I swear it.”

Another blade penetrated the man’s hand and through the car’s luxurious leather seat. As his face contorted in agony, blood dripping from the sides of his mouth, a small piece of flesh followed.

“I’ll take the rest of your tongue if you don’t start telling her what you know. And look at her when you speak.”

Silas was going to get fucked tonight. I had plans to ride, suck, and choke on his dick until he couldn’t see straight.

“Who. Killed. My. Father?” I asked, punctuating every word.

He was panting, drooling, blood slithering down his chin. Silas reached for the knife impaled through his hand.

“No! Please, no. I’ll talk. I’ll talk. Please!” He sucked in a shaky breath. “I got offered a job. I didn’t know what they were after…but we have no choice when those calls come in.”

“There’s always a choice,” Silas deadpanned.

And something deep in my gut twisted with guilt.

Always a choice.

“No, they threatened my family.” He looked away from me. “My wife. Said they’d kill them all.”

“Your wife, huh?”

“I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t know—”

“Why you? Did my father trust you?”

He closed his eyes and cried before nodding. “He did.”

“Were you…close?”

I felt white-hot rage ignite in my core and fisted my hands to keep them from tearing into him before I was ready.

“We were.”

“How. Long?” The question came from between my teeth.

“F-five years.”

I gasped, pain seeping past my rage as I envisioned my father in the face of his friend’s betrayal.

“Who?”

“Oh...fuck,” he sobbed, barely able to catch his breath. Silas gripped his chin, squeezing more blood out of his mouth. “Fine. Fine…Russell. His name is Russell Whitney. He told me to deliver the package to—”

“Package?” I repeated, my tone almost whispery. “Deliver thepackage?”

“Yes. I—”