Page 60 of Unmasking the Diamond
“I don’t know.”
Luca didn’t have time for games. Griffin knew something and he would get the truth out of him, one way or another. “You do. You’re the solicitor listed on every document.”
“That doesn’t mean I know the owner.”
“You’re protecting them,” Luca said flatly. “Why?”
Griffin’s jaw clenched, panic flickering across his features. “If I speak, I’m a dead man.”
“I’d be more worried about not leaving this room severely injured,” Luca countered.
“I—I want to live.”
Luca dragged a chair from the corner, scraping it across the floor, and sat squarely before him. “Then start talking. What are your duties for the Ravenhurst Trading Company?”
“I manage accounts. Nothing more.”
“You know more than you admit.”
“You don’t want to get involved,” Griffin hissed. “Untie me now, and we’ll pretend this never happened.”
Luca leaned back. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. My preference is the easy way. But when my associate joins us, you’ll regret your obstinance.”
“I won’t say anything.”
“We’ll see.”
As if on cue, the door opened and Lord Rupert entered, his expression a mask of calm menace, a velvet pouch swinging from his hand. He laid it on the desk and unrolled it, revealing knives, pliers, gleaming tools of torment.
“I trust I’m not late?” Rupert asked.
“Just in time,” Luca replied.
Griffin’s eyes darted wildly at the sight. “What are those?”
“These?” Rupert picked up the pliers and turned them thoughtfully in his fingers. “Instruments of persuasion. These here remove teeth. Slowly. Infections are rather troublesome, though.”
“You don’t frighten me,” Griffin said, though his voice quavered.
“I don’t intend to frighten you,” Rupert murmured, selecting a scalpel. “I intend to get what I came for.”
Griffin began to squirm, sweat beading at his temple. “You don’t understand. If I talk, they will kill me!”
“We can protect you,” Luca cut in, his tone firm. “Tell us who owns the Ravenhurst Trading Company, and this ends.”
“No.”
“Suit yourself,” Luca said, though inwardly, frustration gnawed at him.
Rupert raised the scalpel, his voice almost casual. “Which ear do you favor? Right or left?”
Griffin broke. “Stop! I’ll tell you. Just don’t—don’t cut me.”
Lowering the blade, Rupert said, “We’re listening.”
Griffin’s words tumbled out in desperation. “I don’t know the owner. I swear it. I only deal with a contact. A woman. Miss Dawlish.”
Luca straightened in his chair. “Miss Dawlish?”
