“Must be.”
I hitched my leg onto the side of the table, watching as he moved around, potting balls left, right, and center, before I asked, “You know we’ll always look after Priestley, and your kid, if anything ever happens to you, don’t you, Cal?”
He missed his next shot. "Huh?”
I shrugged. “In our line of work, anything could happen. But you know the Five Points will look after your kid and your woman if anythingshouldgo wrong.”
He blinked at me. “That’s pretty fucking grim, Bren, but yeah, I guess I knew that.”
“Good.” I smiled as I got to my feet so I could take my shot.
“What did you call me over here for, Bren?”
I didn’t answer, but I purposely let the white ball drift into the pocket nearest him. “Shit,” I murmured, strolling around to that side, watching, waiting until he tucked his hand into it.
When he dug deep for the ball, I grabbed his forearm and dragged it back against the side of the pocket. As he howled, I didn’t stop until the dual cracks of his ulna and radius splintering ricocheted through the room, which was when I gripped the back of his neck and rammed his face into the wooden panel that lined the edge of the pool table.
I moved so fast that he didn't really have time to defend himself and, dazed, he flopped forward, but before he could get blood on the green, which was a bitch to replace, expensive to boot, and would raise questions I didn’t want to answer, I pulled him back, grabbed his arm out of the pocket, then kicked him behind his knees.
When he dropped onto the floor like a sack of shit, I hooked my hands around his ankles and started to drag him out of the room and toward my office.
With each step I took, he struggled, his one good arm clinging to the door, his body curling around it like I couldn’t beat the crap out of him wherever I was.
When he did the same thing again with my office door, I bent over and jabbed him in the face, before I stomped on his abdomen. That shut him the hell up.
Closing the door behind me, I moved over to my desk, pulled out a reel of duct tape and pushed it onto my wrist like it was a bracelet, then wheeled my chair toward him. Hauling him into the seat was hard when he was a deadweight, but I managed.
When he was in place, I started to bind him with the tape. First things first, I wrapped him up like he was a mummy, from shoulder to calf, then I covered the bottom half of his face with it, which had him waking up as he couldn’t breathe.
His body wriggled from side to side, the chair moving with him as he struggled to find air. Watching him plead silently with his eyes, his desperate moans doing nothing more than amping up my annoyance, I said, “You get air if you’ll talk.”
His head started bobbing like one of those toy dogs you saw on a dashboard, so I snagged a pen from my desk, moved over to him, grabbed him by the hair and let gravity tilt him back in the rocking desk chair.
His eyes were wide with desperation, as I ordered, “Stay very still, Callum.”
A grunt escaped him as I pressed the pen to the canopy of tape that covered each nostril, then punctured it.
Immediately, the plastic quivered inward, squeaking as he sucked down air.
When I pushed the tip of the pen to the second one, he froze, then let out a few mumbles as he started straining to breathe through the tiny holes.
They wouldn’t sustain him for long, but I didn’t need them to.
What Ineededwas answers.
Lifting my arm, I took note of the time, and said, “Six hours until the wife’s due home. Oh, I forgot, you didn't know I was married. It's a family secret right now. I know how much you love secrets, Callum.” I moved over to my door and turned the key in the lock. “We can have plenty of fun in that time, though, can’t we?”
Turning back, I saw the terror in his eyes, even worse, I saw the guilt. With that, he sealed his fate, because I knew the thieves had spoken the truth—he’d betrayed us.
“Yeah,brother,” I mocked. “I know what you’ve been up to. Know about the secrets you've been spilling. Who’s been a bad boy? One guess…” I sneered. “You.”