“Not pretty, is it? When an economy falls apart, it leaves a scar behind.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“Don’t worry too much about it. One scar appears, but another place flourishes. It’s all a big cycle. Maybe this place will come back sooner or later.”
I gave him an odd look and went to respond— but the sound of motorcycle engines sputtering and roaring in the near distance cut me off.
Owain grinned big and took a breath. He turned to face the hallway we came in through and adjusted the gun in his waistband.
“Almost showtime,” he said. “Stand a little behind me, please. If anything happens, jump down into the loading bay and hide.”
“Right.” I took a few steps ack. The loading bay was the height of a truck, so only a few feet down to the concrete floor. I saw an empty Coke can covered in dust and decay.
The motorcycles got louder then stopped as they parked. We waited in silence together and heard them push their way inside. Footsteps echoed as three men stepped in through the far door.
The first man looked like a cannonball. He was tan, completely bald, and as wide as he was tall. His denim jacket clung to him like tinfoil. The man behind him was thin, tall, with a patchy beard and dark, dangerous eyes.
The third man was the biggest of the three. He had a wide smile, light blue eyes, boyishly messy hair. He was handsome, and he walked with a confidence that suggested he’d done this once or twice before. I was instantly repulsed by him.
“Clifton,” Owain said.
The third man held up a hand. “Owain. I wasn’t sure you’d be here.”
“I wanted to see how much you’d grovel.”
Cannonball grunted and looked annoyed, but Clifton laughed. They stopped twenty feet away, close enough to talk, but far enough away they didn’t feel like a threat.
I knew Rolan and Viktor waited, hiding somewhere close. I didn’t know if this was going to be another ambush, or if Owain really did plan on having a conversation.
“I’m not here to apologize, if that’s what you want.”
“No, I didn’t think you would. Truth be told, you’re the one with the dead men.”
Clifton’s smile slipped, just a little bit. “That’s true. I do have five dead men.”
“Five’s a lot of bodies.” Owain grinned and looked like he was genuinely enjoying himself. He adjusted the cuffs of his dark shirt and spread his arms out. “Have your guys started to rebel yet?”
“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Clifton gestured toward me. “Is this your new salesgirl? I keep hearing about her.”
“Don’t worry about her,” Owain said. “She’s just my backup. I figured I’d bring her instead of muscle, since I wouldn’t need it.”
“Mother fucker,” Cannonball growled.
“Easy,” Clifton said, his voice soft and low. “If you think he doesn’t have us covered right now, you’re stupid.”
Cannonball glared up at Clifton, but took a step back. Patchybeard looked around with a scowl but said nothing.
“Maybe you’re not so dumb.” Owain scratched the back of his head. “Come on now. You got me all the way out here. What the fuck do you want?”
“There’s already been to much blood between us. I want to make sure this doesn’t turn into something it doesn’t need to be.”
I saw Owain tense. “I will remind you— again—that you’re the one who started this.”
“And I will remind you that I don’t give a damn.”
Cannonball smirked and let out a low rumble of a laugh.
“Give me a reason not to kill you three now and save myself the trouble of having to do it later.”
“I’m moving into the pill business.” Clifton looked at his fingernails then brushed them up against his shirt. “And I need you to back out.”
Owain laughed. It was a surprised laugh, the sort of laugh you do when nothing’s funny. It only made me more tense, and I took an involuntary step away. He seemed almost unhinged, and I worried about what he was about to do.
I could see he was restraining himself. It was written all over his body: tense muscles, tight smile. I wondered if Clifton and the others could see it too, or if I’d somehow gotten an insight into the inner workings of Owain in the last few weeks.
“You want me to stop selling my pills? Not very capitalist of you.”
“I don’t give a shit about that. I’ve been working my way into the market for months, and suddenly you appear and start undercutting all my god damn corners. You know how much that pisses me off, right?”
I stared at Owain. I hadn’t known about that. He didn’t tell me that he’d been undercutting Clifton this whole time and stealing his customers. That explained a lot. Clifton hadn’t attacked out of nowhere—as far as he was concerned, he probably thought he was responding to an attack.