Rev It Up (Black Knights Inc. #3)(30)

Next, she’d wanted to know if he could deposit 20K in her checking account. It didn’t matter to her that ever since the debacle with the senator, the one that’d gotten both her husband and their cousin killed and caused the FBI to start nosing around his holdings, he’d been forced to transfer all his funds to an overseas account, go underground, and stop making purchases in order to stay under the government’s radar. No, none of that mattered to her, because she had her twisted, frigid little heart set on this canary-yellow diamond at Tiffany’s, and she was accustomed to getting exactly what she wanted and damn the consequences to anybody else.

Which brought him full-circle to emergency numero tres, which, like the other two, hadn’t really been an emergency at all. She’d simply called because she was bored and wanted to know if any of the Black Knights or their family members were dead, yet.

Um, no. If they were, he’d have called. Just. Like. He. Told. Her. A. Million. Times.

The insistent buzzing of his phone had him cursing and throwing one of the stale-smelling pillows across the room—imagining it was his sister’s frail body—before he pushed into a sitting position and pressed the “talk” button with enough force to bend the nail on his finger.

“What the hell do you want now, Mary?” he barked, trying to drown out the sound of the couple in the next room.

“Where are you?” she screeched. He held the phone away from his head and briefly considered flinging it across the room to join the smelly pillow.

“First of all, what phone are you using?” He couldn’t take any chances with the Feds on his tail.

She sighed heavily. “The prepaid one. Gimme some credit.”

Uh-huh. Credit. Right.

“And where are you calling from?”

“From inside the safe room like you taught me. Come on, Johnny. No one’s eavesdropping, so cut the crap and tell me where you are.”

“I’m at the hotel,” he said, grinding his teeth.

“Why aren’t you doing something for Chrissakes? Isn’t that what you’re there for?”

He lifted a hand to his brow and prayed for patience. “I told you I’ve hired an investigator to dig up dirt on the Knights and their relatives. That takes time, Mary.”

“Yeah, and in the meantime, what are you doing to avenge the brutal murder of my dear, sweet husband?” she demanded.

Oh, give me a friggin’ break.

For one thing, sweet was not a word that had applied to Mary’s husband in any way, shape, or form. And for another, it was true the guy was murdered, but Johnny could think of a lot more brutal ways to go than a single shot straight to the ol’ gray matter that instantly put your lights out.

“If you must know, I followed the Knights to a local hospital yesterday, and while I was there I found out—”

“Well, why didn’t you just kill them all while you had the chance?” she interrupted, her voice petulant.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, she was clueless. What? Did she expect him to pull his pistol in the middle of the hospital, where there were hundreds of cameras ready to catch his every move and a whole gang of security guards geared up to take him down the minute he opened fire?

Stupid gash. That was just one of the many nasty names hovering on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back along with all the rest. “Killing the Knights doesn’t make sense. Killing their families does. It’s poetic justice. An eye for an eye.”

And he couldn’t wait to see the looks on their faces when their relatives starting dropping like flies. They deserved all the hell he was about to rain down on them for offing his brother-in-law and cousin. Of course, if he was really honest, he had to admit the great majority of his thirst for vengeance came from the financial hit he’d taken and the business losses he’d suffered when he’d been forced to go off the grid.

He’d succeeded in remaining under the government’s radar for fifteen long years, and it severely pissed him off that it was a bunch of leather-wearing bikers who’d managed to burn him.

“Well, if you aren’t going to kill them, then why did you take out that ad in Soldier of Fortune?” Mary asked.

Her tone infuriated him, and he screwed his eyes closed, rubbing at his aching temples. Just how dense could one woman be? “Because those bumbling, white-trash wankers who answered my ad will hopefully keep the Knights distracted long enough for me to exact revenge on their families.”

“And if they actually manage to kill one of the Black Knights?”

“Well, that’s a bonus, now isn’t it? But I seriously doubt any of them will even get close. Last night, I waited at the bar across the street for over an hour for one of those hit-man wannabes to come claim their reward money. Not a single one showed.”

Of course, he wasn’t going to complain about that. He didn’t really relish the thought of handing over fifty Gs even if the cash was going to a good cause.

“So, what did you find out at the hospital last night?” she asked.

“That one of the Knights has a sister and a nephew who live here in Chicago. I tried using the whole flower delivery trick on her this evening, but she’s warier than most broads. She wouldn’t open the door. It doesn’t matter, though. I’m going back tonight, and I will kill both her and her son.”

“Oh, good,” Mary gushed. “Well, keep me informed then.”