For many years, John Larson had forced himself to forget what it felt like to hold a broken bottle with the intent to stab someone.
He reminded himself constantly—he had status now. He had money, influence, a reputation that needed protecting. Making a little more profit was what mattered. Getting his hands dirty was something he had sworn never to do again.
But tonight, he simply couldn’t take it.
Ace Kane wasn’t here to “talk business” at all. From the very beginning, this man had come with a single purpose: humiliation wrapped in laughter, arrogance disguised as jokes.
And the worst part was that it worked.
Being made to look like a fool once was bad enough. Being toyed with again and again, in front of Lora Hale, was unbearable.
Shouting curses at the top of his lungs, John Larso
