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“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.
