Stacia Kane - Wrong Ways Down

And again, iffen he were wrong, no harm done.

Roley pushed the broken, half-open door aside so he could walk into the room. Terrible watched him. He looked nervous, aye, but could be any reason for that. Looked curious, too, but the kinda curious made Terrible’s skin prickle. Too curious. Too innocent. Before Roley’d got there Terrible had taken out his knife, set it half-under his right thigh where it couldn’t be seen. Just in case. He was aware of it now, easy to grab. He could rest his hand on it iffen he wanted to, the way he hadn’t been able to touch Chess when her head lay on that same thigh.

“What’s this place?” Roley asked. Damn. The right question, or leastaways not the wrong one.

Terrible shrugged. “Got me a call the dude living here maybe involved, dig. Check out in there.” He tipped his head toward the hall.

Roley headed for it. Terrible followed close, tucking his knife into the back of his belt where he could grab it fast. Something was bothering him. Something in the way Roley was acting, the way he was handling heself, just … what the fuck was it?

Roley opened the bedroom door, real cautious, and stepped through. Terrible ain’t could tell whether he got paler. He did know he looked confused. Kept looking at the spot where the body’d been—were obvious where, causen of the big blood stain—and back at Terrible.

That was it. That was it, the problem. He kept looking at Terrible. He weren’t looking around the room, weren’t checking the place out. Ain’t even hardly glanced at all the pricey shit in the living room. He kept looking at Terrible, and he ain’t should have been. Only reason he’d keep looking at Terrible were iffen he were scared what Terrible might do, or iffen he expected Terrible to do aught to him. And no fucking reason at all he should be expecting that unless he knew he’d done something that would piss Terrible off.

Tingles ran up and down his spine, but he still ain’t moved. It were enough for him. Iffen Roley weren’t who he were he’d be on the floor immediately. But he were, so Terrible needed to be real fucking certain. Needed just a little more.

“So where the body at?” Roley asked.

“Ain’t certain there was a body. No body, I getting here. Only this.”

Roley looked confused. He waved his hand toward the mess. But he barely looked at it. Kept looking at Terrible, kept sneaking peeks at him from the corners of he eyes, kept tilting his head toward him. “But all that blood … guessing somebody dead, aye? Dude living here be dead, what I’m guessing on? Who the dude be?”

“Naw, naw, dude lives here ain’t the dead one.” Terrible watched Roley real tight himself. “Name of Brian Tyler, only he alive. Got he waiting in the warehouse, if you dig.”

Roley’s eyelids fluttered. All the sudden seemed like he grew a couple extra hands, they moved around so much while he tried finding something to do with em; he tucked em in he pockets, pulled em out, folded he arms, all that shit. And that was enough. Roley knew that name, and it made him nervous, and that was enough. “We heading over there next? Give him some askings?”

Terrible put his own right hand on the back of Roley’s neck. Real gentle. His left hand he fisted at his side, ready. “Aye, we heading over there next, Roley. You an me.”

Roley looked at him then, right at him. Terrible waited for his eyes to widen, waited for the fear and knowledge to show up real, before he knocked him out.

BUMP STARED AT Terrible, his eyes narrow. “Where Roley fuckin bein at now?”

“Tied up.” Terrible shrugged. The movement hurt, his body were so tight. Leaving Roley unbloody were one of the hardest things he’d done in months. “Let he sit there waiting, dig. Figured on you wanting the ask, what action you want, seeing as it Roley.”

“You got yourself fucking certain?” Bump clasped his hands together and rested his chin on em. “Certain be fuckin Roley, an on this dude Archie or fuckin Brian whatever-the-fuck.”

Terrible nodded and handed Bump Roley’s phone. “Stopped over Lee’s place, asked he break in it. Dumbshit got he numbers listed by name, dig. Brian in there.”

Bump examined the phone like it were a dead bug Terrible gave him to eat, the way he looked at just about everything cepting money, drugs, or dames. “Vole gave me Roley were fuckin smart, yay, thinkin he were all fuckin wrongways there, all wrong. Kinda fuckin moron leaving this shit on he fuckin phone?”

Terrible shrugged. Arrogance made people stupid. Being convinced they were smart made people stupid. Being secure, the way Roley was with he cousins so trusted by Bump, made people stupid.

Bump sighed, shook his head. “Ain’t had the thinking Roley fuckin be scum like that, yay, never had that fuckin thought. He the only one?”

“Tryin finding out.” Another good question, one Terrible planned on asking. “Roley ain’t could have killed Slick heself, aye? Got witnesses on him, all night that night. Ain’t knowing iffen whoever done Slick one of ours, though, if you dig. Coulda been anybody.”

Bump nodded. “You fuckin finish up with he and that fuckin factory, you fuckin get youself on the phone with me, yay, you giving me the call you fuckin done, heading you back over here. Bump gives Lacey and Vole the ring-ups, we giving them the fuckin asks then, with whatany you fuckin getting, dig? Get this fuckin shit done now, yay, had enough, all fuckin done on it.”

He looked up and his eyes hardened the way Terrible knew real well. “Bring me he fuckin head, Terrible.”

Terrible nodded, and left.

He drove around a little before heading to the warehouse. Let Roley sweat some more. Let Terrible think on what all needed asking, on how to handle all and what to get done. Gave he time, too, give Timmy Vee the ring-up and give him the tell what all he’d need to put together.

Then he were ready.

The heavy padlock on the warehouse door gleamed dull and sullen in the moonlight. Terrible opened it without letting it touch the metal door, slid the shank out of the hasp without scraping. The one problem he had with being wrong-handed was doors opening the other way, but he could move fast enough for it not to matter.

Roley started looking up when Terrible shoved the door open. Meant he were staring right at Terrible when the padlock hit he in the face. Terrible hadn’t thrown it real hard; he ain’t wanted to knock Roley out again, just to get his attention.

Not necessary. Roley were paying attention. Roley were scared shitless, looked like. Good. The pleasure burning in Terrible’s chest probably should have shamed him, but it didn’t. Instead he went ahead and let Roley see it, let him see how much Terrible planned to enjoy this and how pissed he was.

“So where Brian at?” He kept his voice casual, real conversational. “You give me him, be easier for you, dig?”

“What you talking on? This ain’t funny no more, Terrible, hurt my eye you done. This some kinda—”

Terrible interrupted him with his fist, right in the mouth. Damn, Roley really was stupid after all. “Where Brian at?”

“Ain’t knowing any—”

Iffen Roley liked getting punched, Terrible were happy to help. He went for the exact same spot, on the right side of Roley’s mouth; he felt teeth shift under his knuckles. “Oughta just give me the tell, aye, ain’t helping youself out.”

“But I ain’t knowing any—”

A third punch, and time to try something different. He hadn’t been hitting with all his strength; nowhere near, since he ain’t wanted to make Roley unconscious or aught just yet. This time he reached down and grabbed the index and middle fingers on Roley’s left hand, bent em back far enough for Roley to know what were coming next. “Where Brian at? Seeing as him faked he death an all, guessing he ain’t planned on coming back here. So where he at now?”