I drop James on the floor. He falls on his already-broken femur and screams. It doesn’t matter. No one is around to hear him. No one who will save him, anyway.
I pace around him. “You’re lying to me.”
He pulls in his good leg, trying to draw himself in tight. Like the fetal position will save him. “I’m not! Christos tortured me! He—”
“If he’d tortured the information out of you, you’d be dead,” I growl. “You would have given him what he wanted and he would have snipped you like the loose end you are. He wouldn’t have paid you off.”
His eyes go wide and I know I’m right.
“What happened,” I explain slowly, drawing a knife out of my back pocket, “is that you got greedy. You thought you could make even more money by working as a double agent.”
He shakes his head. “No. I wouldn’t—”
“Yo
