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Chapter 88

“Or is it the other way around?” I ask, my tone still calm. “What did you do that she’s now unwilling to work with you?”

His gaze flicks to mine. “What are you, my consigliere? You givin’ me advice on how to run my own show? I never appointed you to that job. It’s none of your fuckin’ concern what I do! Don’t forget, you work forme.” He points a finger at me as he sneers the last words.

“Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know. I’m the king around here, bitch. I make the decisions, and if I don’t want to work with those assholes anymore, you can’t say shit. You’re nothin’ but a lackey hitman. So act like it and go kill somethin’.”

His skinny neck is in my hands before he can make a peep. I have one knee on the cushion beside him, the other across the top of his legs, pinning them. But the majority of my weight is on his windpipe.

“Do you know what it takes to be a hitman, cousin?”

Mouth opening and closing like a fish, his tanned skin turning purple, he stares at me with wide, wild
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