Hell Breaks Loose (Devil's Rock #2)(53)

Her stomach bottomed out. She pressed a hand to her roiling belly, afraid she was about to be sick. She’d trusted him.

She’d been wrong. About him. About everything. So wrong.

And she would pay for it with her life.





Eighteen




His burner phone started ringing in the kitchen. He raced to get it, relieved, hoping that Zane was finally calling him with some news. Only when he answered the phone, it wasn’t his brother’s voice greeting him.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Reid Allister.”

It had been years, but he hadn’t forgotten Otis Sullivan’s voice. His free hand immediately curled into a fist and he felt like punching something.

“In the flesh,” he replied. “Well, more or less.”

Sullivan chuckled. “You got some balls, I’ll tell you that. Busting out of the hospital like you did. No one wants to even admit that they lost you. The state has enough bad press right now as it is.” Sullivan’s laugh deepened, full of smug satisfaction at his role in said bad press.

“Thanks to you,” Reid returned. “I suppose I owe you for providing me with a distraction.”

“Maybe it was lucky for me that you showed up when you did. Right convenient. I was coming to terms with the fact that Zane and the boys might have bit off more than they could chew taking the girl.”

Reid didn’t know how to respond to that. He just held silent, all of him tense, blood pumping hard through his veins. Unfortunately, he couldn’t reach through the phone like he yearned to do.

Sullivan continued, “But then you always were good, weren’t you?”

“Not always. Ended up in prison, didn’t I?” Because he wasn’t smart to know that the tide had turned and he’d fallen out of favor with Sullivan. He didn’t sniff out the trap before he’d stepped into it.

“And ended out of it, I see.”

“Eleven years later.” Eleven years of his life gone because of Sullivan. A man dead and him to blame. Again, Sullivan’s doing.

“Let’s not rehash old news. You’re out. Let’s look ahead. You do care about the future, don’t you? Zane said you’ve been eager to talk to me . . . to see me. I can only surmise that means you want to talk about your future in the business.”

Yeah. His fist clenched tighter at his side. Something like that.

Before he could answer, Sullivan continued, “A man of your talents is an asset, of course. There’s no question of that. No, when it comes to you, I have other concerns.”

“Such as?” He would do anything, say anything, to get back into the fold. To get close. Sullivan was too out of reach otherwise. He didn’t just want to kill the man. That would be too easy. He wanted to reveal to the world exactly who Otis Sullivan really was. In order to do that he had to get close.

“Trust is not easily given by me, Reid. Nor is forgiveness. Maybe you remember that?”

Yeah. He remembered that. He had all those years behind bars as testament to that. He’d stood up to Sullivan back then and tried walking away. He told Sullivan that he and Zane were out—as in finished and done with him. That had been a mistake. Sullivan had made sure Reid suffered for that. He’d set him up. Sent him out on one last job. Only when he got there, the security guard was dead and he didn’t have a chance to get away before the police arrived.

The only advantage he had right now was that Sullivan didn’t know he wanted payback. Sullivan only thought he wanted back in. He thought he’d succeeded in beating Reid.

The opposite was true, of course. Sullivan had set him up. He had not forgotten that. He never would. He’d say and do whatever it took for Sullivan to think it was all water under the bridge between them.

“Yes,” Reid finally answered. “I remember. I want back in.”

“Good, good.” Sullivan’s voice carried through the phone, a dangerous silkiness entering his voice. “Then you’ll prove your loyalty to me and do as I ask. That is if you want to be back in my graces as you claim . . .”

“I do.”

“According to your brother, you’ve been putting your time to good use and roughing the girl up.”

“I have,” he lied. “Yes, I am. What do you want . . .”

“Good. Wasn’t sure you could do it. You were always a little soft. Guess prison changed you for the better.”

He ground his teeth at the satisfaction he heard in Sullivan’s voice. “Tell me what you want—”

“Kill her.”

The man was insane.

“What?” Reid asked as though he had heard him incorrectly.

“You heard me. I want her dead.”

He sucked in a breath, his mind feverishly working, searching for a way out of this. “I thought you wanted to draw this out and really torture the president. Do you think that’s such a good idea—”

“That’s always been your problem, Reid. You think too much. You think when you should just be taking orders. Maybe you haven’t changed, after all. Maybe you’re still that stupid punk who thinks he’s calling the shots here. Is that what you think?”

“No,” he said numbly, his fingers aching where he clutched the phone to his ear. Never in his life had he so badly wanted to hurt someone. Not even in prison when he’d been at his lowest, when rage had been his closest friend and all he wanted was to lash out. He wanted to crawl through the phone and break Sullivan with his bare hands. “That’s not what I think.”