Riding Dirty: Luciotti Crime Family (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance) - Kara Hart Page 0,28

I laughed to myself and disarmed the gun.

“You’re … not … a cop?” He asked me, wide-eyed with disbelief.

“Ding, ding, ding! You caught me. Now’s the time for some questions. You ready? Good.” I traded my gun for a pair of brass knuckles. They were handed down to me from my grandpa, a few years before his death. I couldn’t even imagine how many people received the blunt end of the brass, but it must have been over a hundred.

“Fuck you!” He spat at me. A big glob nailed me in the face. I grabbed a handkerchief from my pocket and slowly wiped it off.

“That is not the way to start an interrogation.” I slammed my fist against his jaw and instantly felt the crack and swelling of his teeth. If I had hit him any harder, his whole jaw would have collapsed. Of course, I wanted to. He spit in my damn face. But if I did, he wouldn’t be able to talk and that would be no good, would it?

“Alright! Fine, I’ll talk. I swear, I’ll talk,” he mumbled. Already his jaw had started to swell up like an egg.

“Cade Buchwald.” I reached into my pocket and threw a picture at him. “Know that name? Recognize the face in the picture?” I asked him, wiping the blood away from my knuckles.

“Never heard of him,” he said. “You goin’ to hit me again, tough guy?” He actually started to laugh.

“No, I think I’m done with the hitting.” I sighed and got out a nice clean straight razor. “Just got this thing sharpened. Pretty, ain’t it?” I smiled and reached down as slow as I could. I grabbed his ear and set the blade near the lobe.

“What the fuck? No, not the fucking ear!” He screamed, rolling on the floor. I had to put my knee against his chest just to get him to stop.

“If you’re going to lie to me, you might as well accept the scars that lie brings you. You owe my family over twenty grand, you son of a bitch. I think a measly ear might be worth about two grand. Does that sound fair to you?”

No! Fine, fine! I’ll tell you everything. Just let my fuckin’ ear go!” He yelled, knowing he was defeated. If he gave me the correct information, he wouldn’t lose his life. He’ll walk away with a bruised face. That’s it. I’d call that lucky.

I let him go and sat back down, waiting for the information. All I wanted to do was get back to Monroe. It was actually mind-blowing someone would ever want to get back there, but the town was starting to grow on me. Everyone knew each other. They helped one another out. I even liked those small town roads where everyone followed the speed limit. Of course, there was that woman. Dahlia. With the kid. Shit, she was out to make my life difficult, wasn’t she?

“I don’t know him as Cade Buchwald. People in the drug circuit knew him as Cade Whiteman. You know, ‘cause he had the whitest, most purest shit on the market. But most people just called him Cade.”

“How clever.” I smirked. What a fucking moron. These drug dealers always wanted to add their creative spin to the equation, but it always ended up sounding like something a middle school kid could come up with. That, or it caused even more trouble for them. You’d think he’d at least change his first name. You know, so he wouldn’t have a chance of getting caught by the police.

“Yeah, man. I mean, whatever. I didn’t say he was the brightest tool in the shed, did I? Anyway, last I heard he was in Seattle, shacked up with some broad. Some real druggy bitch, you know?” He looked at me with a glaze in his eyes. The guy was probably high right now, taking drugs out of the stash he was supposed to be selling for us.

“No. I don’t know. Why don’t you enlighten me, André?” I set the brass knuckles back into my jacket pocket and folded my hands in front of me. I was almost positive I had broken a knuckle or two. Oh well, it wouldn’t be the first time. There was no more need of excessive force if he was willing to talk.

“I don’t know, man. It’s just what I heard. Got me? There was some woman with him. A classic situation or cycle of…what do they call that? Oh yeah, cycle of