The Criminal

Ch. 8: I'm used to the pain.

I'm not an idiot. One doesn't just walk up to a bunch of mafia bosses and demand an apology. That is a sure way to get myself either killed or seriously injured. What I can do—however—is research. Infiltrate. Torin O'Brien owns a nightclub in town called Spice and as much as my clubbing days are behind me, I'm inclined to make this the exception. That being said, I don't yet have a solid plan. I have no idea what my next move is and as I sit at the bar—taking extreme damage to my ear drums—I contemplate my options.

"Nicole?"

Torin's deep voice sounds from behind.

Shit!

"Hi!"

He regards me with suspicion.

"Have you got a minute?"

He soundless nods and takes a seat next to me, suit straining against his big build.

"Hunter's hurt," I inform, getting straight to the point. "Badly beaten."

Torin barely reacts.

"I want to know who did it."

"Do you think I did it?" he asks.

"I think you're capable."

He smirks, eyes glistening.

"You're smart, Nicole. But you're not acting smart right now."

His words make me nervous. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, if I'm capable of beating your boyfriend to a pulp, what's stopping me from doing the same to you?"

"Hunter is not my boyfriend," I argue.

Torin laughs, incapable of holding back. "That wasn't the point I was making."

I sigh, feeling truly helpless to the situation. The DJ switches track and during the brief moment we're gifted peace, I study Torin's face. His eyes are intense and—like Hunter's—hold a great deal of pain. I wonder if he fell into his role through legacy or if he, too, stumbled into the wrong crowd. I don't know many mafia bosses, but from the two I've met, Torin seems different. Humane. Still scary as fuck, but not as scary as Lowes. We're not exactly best friends, but I get the feeling he'd help me if I asked.

"You need to stop sniffing around Hunter's business," advises Torin. "It's not safe."

I roll my eyes.

"I mean it, Nicole. You're not dealing with normal people here."

"What am I dealing with then?"

His eyes darken, succumbing to a storm.

"Just tell me," I plead. "I can handle it."

"Torin?"

I straighten my spine, recognising that deep voice. Daniel Lowes stands before us, suited and booted. Behind him are two men, one of them Hunter.

"Get rid of your whore. We need to talk business."

Torin chuckles, suddenly meeting his height. "Is that any way to talk to a lady?"

Hunter stares, silently speculating.

"I don't have time for this, Torin. Get rid of her."

"I will. Once you apologise."

Oh, fuck!

These two are clearly in some sort of fight to claim dominance and here I am, stuck in the middle of it.

Lowes narrows his gaze, meeting Torin's challenge head on.

"I'll escort her out," offers Hunter, taking charge of the situation.