3
Mercy
As Colt’shenchman circled me, I tested my bonds again. They held firm, my wrists aching at the pressure.
Billy snickered. “Don’t think you’re getting out of this, Miss Katz. I’ll get the answers the boss wants whether I have to carve them out of you or pull them out by your fingernails. But it’s up to you how much fun we have. Now that you’ve seen what I have to offer, maybe you want to cough up a little something right away?”
I ignored him, shifting my weight on the chair just slightly. I had a little mobility. That would work in my favor.
Colt had made two mistakes that’d probably never occurred to him would cause him any problems: my ankles were tied, but not to the chair, and the chair he’d stuck me in was wooden.
He had no idea the drills my father used to run me through, tying me up one way or another and taunting me with words and blows until I managed to get free. Supposedly Dad had been training me for all the possible dangers of gang life, but I’d always known it was at least as much about punishing me for being born a girl.
Now I was glad I was a woman. These assholes just couldn’t wrap their heads around the idea that I might have more skills than they did. That I might have trained harder than they’d ever imagined, even if it hadn’t been my choice.
I just needed the asshole in the room to come a little closer.
Billy stopped in front of me with that ugly leer. Just looking into his face, remembering the glimpse of it I’d gotten in the midst of the carnage several days ago, made my hands itch to punch his tongue right down his throat.
Was he the one who’d shot Grandma? Or Aunt Renee? He’d been acting under Colt’s orders, but somehow I didn’t think he was sorry about it.
“Let’s hear it,” he said. “What big plans did your dear old dad have in the works? How many people had he reached out to?”
This again. I bit back a sigh and simply glared at him.
Unnervingly, Billy kept smiling, not thrown by my silence. “Or how about this—we want to know what you’ve spilled about the Nobles’ operations to whoever you’re still in contact with from your father’s allies.”
I hesitated, momentarily distracted. Was Ezra behind this kidnapping—because somehow he’d gotten it into his head that I’d been ratting out his business to competitors? I hadn’t said a thing about the goings-on in the Noble mansion to anyone.
Or was this just a round-about way for Colt to try to get information about the Nobles from me, because he was still aiming to overthrow them?
I couldn’t expect Billy to tell me that. He was still keeping his distance, toying with me. I needed him riled up.
“Why the fuck should I tell you anything?” I asked. “You’re obviously a pathetic excuse for a man, getting off on threatening someone who’s unarmed and restrained. And I guess you figure you can’t do enough damage with your fists even like that—you need a knife to get the job done?”
Billy’s eyes flashed, and the grin deflated. Excellent.
“Big mouth on a chick who can’t move anything else,” he retorted. “We’ll see what you think of the knife when I’m stabbing it into you.”
“Oooh, I’m so scared. As far as I can tell, all you know how to move is your mouth too.”
His jaw clenched. I could see him reining in his anger, but I’d pissed him off enough that he walked right up to me. “If you’re in such a hurry to get to the painful parts, I’m happy to start right—”
He wasn’t a total idiot—he came up beside me rather than in front, where I might have had a hope of swinging my bound legs at him. But that wasn’t the main part of my plan anyway.
The moment he was in range, the knife gleaming dangerously close to my cheek, I rocked forward with all the force I had in me. My weight landed on my feet. I whipped around, doubling over to lift the chair legs higher.
The solid wooden legs slammed into Billy’s body, one of them clocking him right in the face. The cracking sound suggested I’d broken at least one bone.
Billy swore and stumbled backward, groping at his cheek, which I hoped ached twice as much as mine did. I flung myself toward the nearest wall, wrenching the chair toward it as I went. I rammed the chair into the concrete surface so hard the impact reverberated through my bones—and cracked the thin wooden arms.
I shook myself free of the chair, tugging at the now-loosened ropes. As I yanked them off my chafed wrists, Billy charged at me. Blood streamed down the side of his face, and his eyes were murderous.
My fingers closed around the best weapon I had—one of the broken pieces of wood, its splintered end sharp as a stake. I fumbled with the rope around my ankles at the same time. Billy swung his knife at me, and I smacked it aside with my makeshift weapon before flipping backward to slam my feet into his gut.
He plummeted to the floor with a pained grunt. I managed to heave a loop of the rope over my heel, which loosened the whole mess enough to kick it off—just in time for Billy to come at me again.
Springing to my feet, I dodged and swiped at his knife hand. My heart pounded so loud it drowned out every other sound. If I could knock the blade far enough away and he ran for it, I might have time to break one of the windows and flee that way. I didn’t dare turn my back on him while he was wielding that thing.