Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
“I’m fine,” Nolan grumbles, hobbling away.
“It’s not up for negotiation,” Brad grates, storming through us all, back into the club. “Close the club and get the mess cleaned up,” he barks at Mason as he passes. “I’m going home.”
I give everyone the nod and they all disperse, leaving me and James alone in the alley. “He’s not telling us something,” I muse quietly.
“I’m worried about him.”
“Yeah,” I say, scuffing my shoes on the concrete. “I think we should take this opportunity to have a chat with Nolan.” Let’s get that little issue resolved, cross it off our list of things to do. “I’ll meet you in the upstairs office. Make sure Brad’s gone.”
I head inside, seeing Nolan limping into the men’s. I check the coast is clear and follow him in. “This way,” I say, taking his arm and leading him right back out. “We need a friendly chat.”
“What? What about?”
“About your friendly chat with a cop.” I turn my impassive face his way, and the terror is instant. Speaks volumes. I can only imagine the menace in my expression.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
And he lies? I curl my lip, enraged, and shove him through the office door. “Get the fuck up the stairs now.”
“Danny, please.”
“Move!” I roar, kicking his leg. Is he the mole? Did he bug my fucking phone?
“Danny, I haven’t been talking to any cop.”
I ignore him and lose my patience with his slow limp across the office, pushing him on roughly. I smack the code into the pad and thrust the door open.
“Danny, I’m loyal, you know that.”
I snort. “You’re also fucking stupid, Nolan.” I get him up to the office and, God, I so want to tear him a new arsehole. I slam him down on a chair and he yelps, straightening his leg out, holding his thigh. Great. That’s where I’ll start when I torture the information I want out of him. “Sit there and shut the fuck up.” I pour myself a drink and neck it. I want to find calm. Can’t.
The door opens, and James walks in. He nods. Good. Brad’s left the building. Let’s get on with this. I go to Nolan and rest my palms on his thighs, squeezing.
“Arhhhhhhh,” he squeals. “Danny, please!”
“You’re talking to a cop.”
“No, Danny.”
I squeeze some more.
“Arhhhhhhh, Danny!”
“The name Bean ring any bells?”
I can feel James watching me lose my shit, silent.
Nolan shakes his head, spit trickling down his chin. But the brave little fucker doesn’t cry.
“I’ve had a really shit day, Nolan. Really shit.” I pull my gun and aim it at his head. “Talk.”
He inhales, eyes wide, and looks at James.
“He won’t help you.”
“Talk, boy,” James orders. “I can’t stop him pulling that trigger.”
“He’s blackmailing me,” he blurts in a rush. I hear James’s inhale. Feel mine. “Bean’s fucking blackmailing me.”
“What’s he asked you to do?”
“He’s asked me for all the footage from the club.” He looks at me, eyes glazed, but still no tears. “I’ve been stalling, trying to think of a way out of it.”
“And he’s blackmailing you with what?” I ask. “What does he have on you, Nolan?”
He looks between us, hesitant, and I fear the worst. What the fuck has Nolan done? What the hell has Bean got on him that means Nolan might bend to his will? Betray us? Risk his fucking life, because he knows I won’t hesitate to kill him if I find out he’s turned us over. And Brad will accept that.
Nolan swallows, and I brace myself.
“It’s Brad,” he says.
“What about Brad?”
Another swallow.
“Nolan, what the fuck is it?” I bellow, wedging the gun into his forehead.
He breathes in.
I breathe in.
James breathes in.
“He’s my dad.”
My gun drops like lead, my body moving back. “What?” I stare at the kid, flummoxed, not sure I’ve heard him right, as he shifts in the chair, looking small and uncomfortable, refusing to look either of us in the eye.
James moves in, crouching before Nolan. “Did you just—”
“Brad’s my dad.” He looks defeated. “He’s my fucking dad.”
James grabs his face and forces him to give us his eyes, and the moment I see the pain in them, I know he’s not bullshitting us.
Fucking hell.
“Bean knew my mom. Took care of her, if you know what I mean. He said he’d have you all killed if I didn’t give him something to lock you up. He said he has endless shit on me to get me locked up too. And he said Brad wouldn’t accept me. He’ll make sure of it. That he’ll probably shoot me. I don’t want him to know . . . about me,” he whispers. “I don’t want this to change things.” Now, his lips trembles, and God damn my black heart, it cracks slightly. “I don’t want him to reject me.”
I stare, stunned, eventually turning my eyes onto James. He’s displaying a similar shade of shock.