Kings of Chaos (Dirty Broken Savages #1)(3)

I grin at him, letting the curve of my lips turn ugly and feral. I might look like some club bunny right now, but he doesn’t know what I’ve done. He doesn’t know about the list I keep, and how many names have been crossed off that list. He doesn’t know that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to avenge my sister’s death.

I’ve got blood on my hands already, and when your skin is already slick with it, your soul already darkened by death, adding one more body to the total doesn’t seem like that big of a deal anymore.

“Maybe I did you a favor in the long run,” he says, speaking a little faster. “I kept you alive. You should think about that.”

He uses that tone of voice that I fucking hate. The one that’s all condescension and him talking down to me like he thinks he knows what’s best. Like he must know more than me because he’s a big strong man and I’m just a girl.

“You think he would have killed me?” I ask, cocking my head as if I’m considering his words.

Something sparks in his slightly bloodshot eyes, as if he thinks he’s just found his way out of this. “If not him, then one of his goons would have. You might think you’re big and bad with your gun, honey, but to work for Ivan, you have to really know your shit. You wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

“So you think I should be thanking you. For saving my poor, weak little ass from getting in over my head?”

He nods quickly, not even noticing how savage my tone has gotten. “Yeah. Yeah, I do think so. So maybe we just let this go? Pretend it never happened. Water under the bridge. We can move on… hell, maybe even get a drink.”

Jesus. He’s already pivoted from trying to save his ass to trying to get laid. I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be this stupid.

“Oh, you want me to let it go?” I snap back, dropping any hint of the helpless little girl act. “You want to walk away from this alive? Maybe I’ll think about letting you live if you can actually help me. Give me the info I want.”

“I don’t have it,” he says quickly, his eyes widening. He’s got sallow skin and deeply set eyes, and it gives him an almost rat-like appearance—which is fitting, I guess. “I already told you. I don’t know how to get close to him. How the hell would I know that? Nobody knows that. If people knew how to get through Ivan St. James’s defenses, someone would have done it already. You’re not the only crazy bitch who wants to see him burn, I bet.”

“No, I’m just the only crazy bitch who matters right now,” I tell him. I shake my head, and the grin on my face gets even more savage. “Either way, that was the wrong answer. You didn’t help me, and I can’t let you warn Ivan that I’m after him.”

Maybe it’s the grin, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s finally realized I’m serious with the gun pointed at his face, but real fear shows in the guy’s eyes now. He’s finally catching onto the fact that I’m not fucking around, and that whatever he thinks about me being weak or a woman or whatever, I’m definitely not too weak to kill him.

He lifts his hands, eyes bugged out and frantic.

“W-wait. You don’t have to do this. I can—I can pay you. I can get you information. Good information this time. I promise.”

“You were already supposed to give me information,” I tell him coolly. “And you fucked that up and lied to me about it. You just said you don’t know how to get to Ivan, and I don’t need anything else from you. Besides, why would I give you another chance to fuck me over? I know how men like you operate, and the world will be a better place without you in it.”

I pull the silencer from my holster and screw it onto my gun, eyes locked with his.

“Wait! Please,” he begs, sounding like he’s a second away from bursting into tears. “Please. Just. Give me another chance. I-I can… I can…”

He keeps babbling half sentences and broken pleas, and I tune them out, not giving a shit about his whining now. There’s nothing he can do for me. Anything he says now is just the gibberish of someone trying to save his own life.

All the attitude he had when he was talking to me before is gone, and there’s a satisfaction in knowing that he’s finally realized I mean business. He also knows he doesn’t have anything I want, but he’s begging all the same. Trying anything he can to change my mind, even though there’s no chance of that happening.

“What happened to all that confidence from earlier?” I ask him in a drawl. “When you were talking down to me like a big man who needed to help a weak, stupid woman? Where’d all that go?”

“Please. I-I didn’t mean it. I was just trying to say—”

“You were just trying to talk your way out of this. But it’s too late for that. You already said you can’t give me what I want. So we’re done here.”

The pleading continues, and I just stand like a statue in front of him, unmoved. I don’t know if it’s the look on my face or the coldness in my eyes, but I know he can tell I mean business. I spare a second to think that I bet he didn’t expect his night to go like this. He probably thought he’d be able to talk some woman into going home with him for the night. Or at the very least into going into one of the bathrooms to suck his dick or something.

At worst, he’d end up going home alone, a little drunk and lonely, but not any worse for wear. Maybe his pride would have been bruised if all the other women he approached seemed as uninterested in him as the women he was trying to feel up when I found him.