He had to know that.
It only made him smile wider as he slowly crouched, until his face was dead center with mine. “Name's Hatch. You don't know me, Summer Olivers, but I know you very fuckin' well. I know everything about anybody I want in this state, right down to the times they piss and fuck. My club's got eyes and ears fuckin' everywhere. You fuck up, you get a laser crawling across your tits. Only warning you get before a bullet blows through your heart. Or maybe you come home to find your brother's head hacked off and laying gutted on your bed, smiling from the holes where his eyes used to be...”
The asshole trailed off. My heartbeat quickened, taken back to that night when Freddy, Joker, and my last chance at a normal life died.
Murdered. Killed by this animal staring at me like a tiger. Hungry, taunting, and merciless.
“What?” I whispered. “How could you –“
“Don't play dumb. I know you were there, bitch, and so was that old man rotting away in a nursing home. So was your old boyfriend, Joker, now the Deadly Pistols' Veep. He's moved up in this old world, and left you in the fuckin' dust by the looks of it.”
God damn, he was good. Ripping open old wounds and rubbing salt in deep.
I kept my eyes glued to his, trying not to shake, not to cry, not to open up any weaknesses that would risk my Alex.
“Aw, come on, keep the waterworks off. I ain't here to patch up shit between fuck buddies. I'm here because you're bait.”
The only thing I'd ever hated more than this man was the single ruthless tear that finally escaped, rolling down my cheek. He reached out, catching it on his fingertip, staring at it like a bug he'd just caught.
My stomach turned when he raised a finger to his mouth, making a show out of licking it off. “Fuck, that's good. Makes me wanna do all the shit I came in here squawking about, especially with Betty G being so goddamned fuckin' hungry tonight...”
He held up his switchblade, shifting his fingers to the side, so I could see the name scrawled on it in a cursive script. Betty G.
Jesus, he was talking about his fucking knife like a person. Psychopath confirmed.
My eyes were bigger than the saucers stacked in my cabinet, just several feet away.
If he took a step toward Alex's room, I'd have to make a run for it.
I'd run, fling the cabinet open, or pull one of the knives from the block, whichever seemed easiest...
“Shit, little mama, don't worry your pretty head. I ain't here to fuck with you and the kiddo unless you say no to anything I tell you. That, doll, is a very, very, very fuckin' serious offense.” Smiling, he stood up, running the finger that had been in his mouth across the edge of the blade.
He winced, exaggerating his pain. “Ouch! Betty's been sharpened up. Bitch almost cut me, and I can't have her making me bleed all over your carpet.”
“Why?” I whispered, hearing my own voice from a hundred feet away. “Why are you here? I haven't seen or spoken to Joker for years. You have to know that's true.”
I couldn't take him toying with me a minute longer.
“Yeah, and thank fuck for that, Summer. He won't see you coming 'til you're right on his doorstep, shoving his kid in his face. He'll trust you. He'll open up. And that's when you'll find out every fuckin' thing I want to know about his club and feed it back to me, straight down the pipe.”
It all made sense now. And I wished to holy God it didn't.
“Don't, please,” I said, shaking my head, feeling more brutal tears rolling down my cheeks. “I'm not a spy. I just want to be left alone.”
He looked at me for a long second, his face turning white. Then he tipped his rough head back and laughed, so loud he made Alex cry harder in the other room.
“Okay, okay, okay.” Hatch shrugged. “Have it your way. I'll kill the kid first and throw your worthless fuckin' carcass on top of his.”
I lunged, wrapping my arms around his boot, before he could even take one step toward my baby's room. Alex screamed, bawling louder in the other room, as if he could sense the evil coming.
“No, no, no, please! I didn't mean it that way. I'll do anything you say. Anything. Just please...don't go in there.”
Hatch stopped, his boot halfway raised above my fingers. He looked down at me.
“Give me your fuckin' phone. Right now.”
I looked around, moving my shaking hand down to my pajama pocket. I pulled it out and handed it to him. His nasty face got nastier, twisting into a sadistic smirk as he hurled it against the wall so hard I heard it splinter. It left a dent in the wall, going out with a flash, before the pieces bounced on the carpet.
“Here's your new one,” he said, stuffing a newer, crappier flip phone into my hand. “You use that shit to check in with the only number on it. You see it ring, you drop whatever the fuck you're doing, and fuckin' answer. Even little Alex. Understood?”
“Yes,” I said, nodding painfully.