Page 49 of Complications

“Any others you want to tell us about?” I asked.

“Just tell me why you’re here.”

“You seem interested in a friend of ours, and we wanted to find out why,” I said simply.

Cille’s eyes widened, but he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

“Came to his house and everything.”

Cille’s eyes darted around the room but didn’t land in any particular spot.

“Looking for another piece? I assure you mine is bigger.” I pulled my jacket lapel back, my gun clearly visible. I pulled it out slightly so there was no mistaking the silencer on the end. “Let’s have that chat.”

“Fine. It’s not that…”

My prey moved to sit down on the sofa. The placating move wasn’t as effective as I was sure he hoped. The jerkiness of his movement betrayed every bit of his nerves. Perhaps it wasn’t strictly necessary to let him get halfway to sitting before I intervened, but a little fun never hurt anyone.

“Oh no, no, no. We’ll have a chat with my friend, and you’re coming with us.”

I smiled softly as I watched the color drain from Cille’s face. Drops of sweat appeared instantly along his upper lip and clung precariously to the scraggly attempt at a mustache there. “Sorry, I forgot to ask, do you prefer Mr. Cille or Briom?”

“C’mon, now you’re just fucking with him too much.” Joey chuckled behind me.

I heard the quiet tap of his fingers against his smartphone while he called in for an apartment clearance. Cille reluctantly straightened himself back up and dragged himself close to me.

“Nothing to worry about, my guy. Our chat won’t last too long.”

“You should know my cousin’ll be looking for me.”

The desperation in his voice shouldn’t have been annoying, but it was. Given how our quick foray into his favorite dive revealed the desperation of the people working there, he didn’t get to claim nerves. Fuck that.

“He’s a cop. Important one too.”

“Interesting,” I murmured, noncommittally.

“Yeah, it is,” Cille said before he lunged for the doorway blocked by Joey.

He was a wiry fucker, but Joey grabbed him and yanked him back by the collar. Cille swung wildly, but Joey’s fist to his solar plexus knocked the air out of him and sent him sprawling to the floor. He hadn’t said anything, and I wouldn’t ask in front of anyone, but I studied Joey’s face carefully, looking for any sign of pain. His mouth was set in a hard, pinched line.

“You little pissant,” I growled. I dropped a knee, cushioned by his stomach, and ground down a little. “You’re going to get off this goddamn floor and walk out of here on your own two legs. And this time it’ll be without the dramatics. We clear?”

Cille kept his mouth shut but gave an abrupt nod.

“Let’s go,” Joey growled.

Ignoring Cille’s whine, Joey gripped his arm and frog-marched him out the door. The stiffness of his shoulder was obvious to me, likely because I stared at him every chance I got. The damn fool made another run for it. This time, Joey slammed the butt of his gun against the back of Cille’s head. He crumpled to the ground when his knees buckled underneath him. With a sigh, I slung him over my shoulder in a firefighter’s hold.

I was going to enjoy handling this cleanup myself.

“Welcome back. Your cousin sends his regards.”

“What the fu—” Cille’s voice trailed off when the precariousness of his position hit him through the fogginess of his brain. “Where is he?”

Cille’s arms and legs were tied tight to his plastic chair over a tarp. If he’d noticed the surroundings, he kept it to himself.

“He had an accident. Tragic,” I answered. “He needed time to think about his choices and drove out to the mountains. Lost control and went off the side of the mountain. It’s a shame.”

Matteo sounded bored when he spoke with our guest, but I knew him well enough to know it was an act. He was in a controlled rage, ready to rip Cille apart. Given that the asshole was the reason Joey couldn’t move his shoulder, I wasn’t feeling overly charitable myself. Matteo nodded to me, and I stepped forward.