When Julien remained mute, trying to get his brain to catch up, Jimmy kept on talking.
“I’m in need of a good lawyer, Mr. Thornton, and I heard you have one.”
Julien’s stomach twisted, as he pictured Priest standing in their kitchen that morning, smiling at him, drinking his coffee. That was this morning, right? How long have I been out?
“Don’t worry too much, I’ve already contacted him, and he seems…willing to help.”
Julien tipped his head up and tried his best to pry open his right eye and see if he recognized his surroundings. But a new bolt of pain shot through his head, making him wince and shut both eyes.
“Don’t bother,” Jimmy said. “The swelling won’t let you open it.”
As something cool ran down Julien’s neck, he gripped the wood under his hands and tried to remember anything Priest had told him about his father to help him here, and the one thing that he recalled was that Jimmy was a stickler for honesty.
It was something that had always stood out to Julien whenever Priest spoke of that afternoon on the bayou. Priest would deny it until his last breath, but the fact he’d been so traumatized by Mr. Stevens not telling the truth was undoubtedly the reason he was so adamant about honesty as an adult—he’d seen what a lie could do to a person, and Julien needed to remember that if he wanted to stay alive.
“I had a nice little catch-up with Joel while you were sleeping. It’s a shame you missed it. I believe you know him quite well.”
At the mention of Priest’s name, nausea roiled in Julien’s gut. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what Priest was experiencing—or poor Robbie.
“Are you having trouble talking?” Jimmy said. “I left your tongue in your mouth for a reason. You really should use it, Mr. Thornton. You never know when it might not be there.”
Julien swallowed, the threat making his dry throat even drier, and then made himself speak. “Oui, yes. I know him.”
“Yes, that’s what he said.”
Julien didn’t care how much it hurt—he forced his eyes open the best he could and made himself take a long look at Jimmy, should he need to describe what he saw later—if he got the chance.
Jimmy appeared to be about the same height as Priest, and even though he was older, he had more brawn than Julien would’ve expected. Not that that was so unusual; years in a prison cell with nothing to do except push-ups and sits-ups kept one strong, and Jimmy was letting Julien know that by the way he’d rolled up the sleeves on his dirty white shirt, tucked into grey pants a size too big that were held up by a belt—and in that belt was a gun.
“He was rather upset that you and I were becoming acquainted,” Jimmy went on, and Julien could only imagine. If Priest knew that Jimmy was the one who had taken Julien, once he’d gotten over his shock, Priest’s only emotion right now would be fury.
Nobody messed with the ones Priest loved.
“Honestly, I didn’t think he’d much care, since you’re just a client of his. But that’s not all you are, is it?”
As Jimmy let the words dangle between them, Julien swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, and when the distinct taste of copper hit his taste buds, he shut his eyes and told himself to breathe.
Jimmy had hit him hard. But if he wanted to stay alive, Julien knew he had to focus. Focus and keep Jimmy talking. Keep him engaged and interested enough that he didn’t hit Julien again—or worse.
“You seem to be the one with all the answers,” Julien said, and then spat out the blood that was pooling in his mouth. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Jimmy chuckled, and the sound made the hair on the back of Julien’s neck stand up. “I think you’re his boyfriend. A fancy French fucker who likes to suck his cock, that right?”
“I’m not his boyfriend, non. I am French, though, so points for that,” Julien said, and then coughed, trying to get some kind of lubrication in his mouth.
“You think this is some game?” Jimmy shouted, and finally some clue as to where they were was revealed, as his voice echoed off the walls. Wherever they were, it was empty and large. Some kind of storage unit? A warehouse, maybe?
Then Jimmy shifted in close and put his hands over Julien’s arms. “You think I won’t hurt you because you know Joel? Let me tell you, that is not the case. Especially now that he abandoned his name.”
Julien thought back to the stories of how this man had terrorized Priest as a child, and felt his disgust and revulsion morph into courage—if he was going to die, then he would do it standing up for that little boy who never had anyone to do it for him.