It was way fewer than he had expected.
In the yard, a guy was backing away in fear, but Colby's dagger flew through the air, embedding itself in the wall behind the man before he could even make a run for it. The guy broke out in a cold sweat.
Colby moved forward, effortlessly kicking the man to the ground.
"I'll count to three. Get Griffin out here."
Colby's tone was ice-cold as he pressed his foot onto the man's chest.
"One."
"Two."
"Why hassle him?"
A deep voice traveled across the yard, reaching Colby's ears.
Colby looked up, and sure enough, Griffin was standing there.
He knew Griffin liked his peace and quiet, always avoiding crowded places. Griffin had too many enemies from his past. By spreading the word that Griffin was in Devonport, Colby had essentially sent all those enemies straight to him.
Finding the suddenly crowded suburban areas by evening was more than enough to pinpoint Griffin’s hideout without Colby breaking a sweat.
Colby sat on the sofa, his voice low, "I've been good to you, taking care of all your enemies. Don’t you think you owe me one?"
"You spread the word and have the guts to ask me for a favor?"
Years had gone by, but Colby's thick skin had only gotten thicker.
Griffin spoke coldly, "If you're hoping Elodie will hand over that ten percent share, you're out of luck."
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Revenge is best served cold