He’s trying to throw you off balance. And using what he must think every woman is susceptible to—insulting her appearance. Don’t stoop to being exactly what he expects.
“Go ahead,” he continued. “Text him. Tell him to meet me in the park. It’s empty enough.”
When she didn’t move, he snatched the phone so fast she didn’t see it coming. She grabbed for it. He backpedaled, smiling when another customer looked over, startled.
“My phone,” he said to the middle-aged man. “You know how wives are. Always ‘borrowing’ it so they can see what mischief you’ve been up to.”
The man gave a small laugh and continued on his way.
“Ah, this is Nicky’s phone.” Malcolm whistled as he looked at the screen. “I’m surprised it has enough memory to hold his little black book. So many women …” He flipped through. “No notes, though. That’s disappointing. Maybe I should forward this list to myself. Rate them for him.”
Vanessa grabbed for the phone as he backed up, chuckling.
“One would think you’d appreciate me weeding out the competition.” He made a show of flicking down the contact list. “Though even with my appetite, I’m not sure I could make a dent.” He looked up. “Such a shame he let you take this, isn’t it?”
“A shame?”
“Because it proves he doesn’t give a damn about you. If he did, he’d want to spare your feelings.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I already knew how big that list would be and I don’t give a shit.”
Malcolm smiled, shaking his head. “Don’t tell me you didn’t look. Contacts, e-mail, texts … I’m sure there’s some interesting tidbits in there.”
“You’re right. I should have looked. If you see any tips for what he likes, let me know. Now, is there something else we can discuss, while we both stall, waiting for him to track me here? Opinions on Detroit’s prospects for a return to economic stability?”
“No, but I do have an informed opinion on Nick Sorrentino’s prospects for a continued existence on this earth. Not good, I fear. In fact, I expect him to leave it in”—he checked his watch—“the next thirty minutes. Probably less, but as you may have realized, he’s not the brightest bulb. I have to allow some extra time for him to find us. Killing him, though? That will be quick.”
When she didn’t reply, he looked over. “Did he tell you I wouldn’t kill him because I’m too fond of his father? Let me ask you a question, my dear. Does Antonio know where Nick is?”
Before she could answer, he continued, “I don’t require a reply. I’m sure he does not. Antonio was always a poor parent. Too soft by far. He felt guilty taking Nicky from his mother, so he coddled the boy and made sure nothing in the big bad world could get him. If he found out Nicky was coming after me, he’d have chained him in the basement to keep him home. Because Antonio has a secret. Do you know why I left the Pack?”
“Your son beat you in the Alpha race.”
The amused glitter in Malcolm’s eyes evaporated in a maelstrom of hate, so strong and so ugly that Vanessa took an involuntary step back.
“He did not beat me. The coward would never dare challenge me. Not in combat.”
“I meant that Jeremy was elected over you. The Pack agreed to vote, and he won.”
“And do you know why he won? Because Antonio handed him the Alpha crown on a platter. Antonio could coddle Nicky so well because he had plenty of experience at it. From the time my brat was old enough to toddle, Antonio was there, making sure there was nothing sharp or hard for him to fall on. That’s the problem with the Sorrentinos. A strong Pack culls the weak. The Sorrentinos embrace them. Protect them. Look at your Nicky, taking in those young mutts. Joey’s boy is a half-wit. The other two aren’t much better. Misfits and weaklings.”
Vanessa was barely listening now. Just let him rant. Give Nick time to get here.
“Speaking of misfits and weaklings … So my brat fancied himself Alpha, and what did Antonio do? Double-crossed me to hand him the crown. He promised me his vote. Promised me Dennis and Joey’s vote. All I had to do was not take my competition out of the race.”
Vanessa had to bite her tongue—hard—to keep from saying, And you bought it? Antonio’s ploy was so obvious that an agent in training wouldn’t have fallen for it. But apparently Malcolm had. Or his ego had.
“Antonio double-crossed me. Dennis ran off to Alaska with Joey, and Antonio didn’t stop them. That’s when I realized he had no intention of giving me his vote. I fought back, but it was too late. The die was cast. My brat got his crown. And me? Well, let’s just say I owe Antonio a debt, one I fully intend to repay any minute now. He’s about to regret coddling his son when he should have been turning him into a fighter.”
“I think you’re underestimating Nick.”
Malcolm chuckled. “No, I’m quite certain I’m not. He isn’t even here yet. The boy can barely follow a well-laid scent. He’s no match for me.”
“What if he won’t fight you?”
“Oh, he will. Did I mention the Sorrentinos have a weakness for weaklings? That includes women. Especially damsels-in-distress.”
She laughed. “I’m hardly—”
“Oh, but you will be, as soon as he walks through that door. I’m going to break your spine. Above the first vertebra. He’ll walk in, and you’ll be on the floor, paralyzed. For life, I’m afraid. It will cause a commotion, naturally, but it will happen too quickly for anyone to react. Nick will see what I’ve done. I’ll run. He’ll follow to repay me for my cruelty. Sorrentinos are terribly predictable.”
No one could threaten something that terrible so casually, so confidently, warning her, unconcerned that she might actually be able to stop it. He must be bluffing. Only he wasn’t. She had only to glance at his face to see that. To glance at his face and then a split second to remember Tina and the Stokeses.
She took a moment to steady herself. Then she stepped closer, leaning in to whisper, “You’re full of shit.”
He turned and met her gaze, smiling. “You keep telling yourself that—”
He stopped as she pressed her weapon into his side.
“A gun, my dear? Really?”
“We’re going to walk—”
He kicked her. She wasn’t prepared for that. She’d been watching his upper body, ready for him to twist, to grab. Instead, he side-kicked her, hard and fast in the calf. As she stumbled, he grabbed for her weapon, only to pull back with a hiss, raising his hand, blood dripping from it.
“Not a gun,” she said as she backed away, her knife out.
It took a few moments for customers to figure out what was happening. Even then, it wasn’t like pulling out a gun, where everyone screams and panics and dives for cover. They just got the hell out of the way, most making a beeline for the door. When neither she nor Malcolm made any effort to stop those fleeing, the rest followed. And since the woman was the one with the knife, obviously no one felt the need to play hero.
“Did you think that was clever?” Malcolm said, waving at the empty store. “A shame, really. You’d have been a good match for Nicky. Equally stupid. Now I don’t need to hurt you quickly.” He smiled. “I can take my time.”
She went for her gun. That was the plan. Clear the shop with the knife. Then pull the gun. But the moment she went for it, he pounced, anticipating the move. She slashed at him, but she was holding the knife in her left hand now, and it was an awkward, weak slice. It still caught him in the cheek, blade splitting the skin. He didn’t even flinch. He hit her knife hand with a chop so hard she heard her wrist snap.