Michael
Seated behind my desk, I don’t take my eyes off her. I let myself slowly swivel from right to left and I wait. Every time she opens her mouth I have to restrain myself from letting my rage explode on her. But right now I need her to talk.
I put my Beretta in front of me, next to my laptop. Vanessa Ortiz goes pale. She shifts her green eyes from me to the gun, then bites her lip. I have to suppress an exasperated sigh.
“It’s your moment. Speak.”
“Uh…”
The movement of her hands catches my attention. She tries to shape her thoughts into words, but hesitates. She’s terrified. I force myself to be patient, even look away to let her regain herself. Finally she takes a small step toward me and ends up sitting on the coffee table that Antony uses as his personal footrest.
“In three d
