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“Exact words?” I ask, my tone leaving no doubt that an answer isn’t optional.

“Something like… if things got hot, I’d go somewhere.”

Quillan lets out a delighted laugh that echoes off the high metal ceiling. “Well, look at you doing our work for us.”

I stare at Paulie, at the sweat beading along his hairline, and the abuse mottling his skin.

Sometimes the universe hands you gifts. Usually they aren’t this stupid.

“Did you tell her where?”

“No,” he says.

“Mention leaving Pittsburgh?”

“No.”

“Anybody else hear it?”

A drop of blood from his chin falls to his chest. “She… might’ve told her sister.”

I glance at Mathias. He gives the smallest nod, just a tilt of his chin.

The best fixes rarely require creating something from nothing. You find the lie the person has already begun telling and let it grow.

Paulie has debt; he gambles; he disappears when times get tough, and he’s already warned his girlfriend that he might need to go dark.

I don’t need to turn him into somebody else; I need to make sure the man everyone remembers matches the man who vanishes.

“Anything else you need?” Mathias asks me.

I look at Paulie. “Any financial obligations I need to know about that aren’t in here?” When he gives a faint shake of his head, I say to Mathias, “No. I’m good.”

Mathias nods. “How long?”

“I can have the loose ends handled by tomorrow.”

“Good.”

Quillan cracks his neck. “So now can I kill him?”

Paulie makes a broken sound.

I turn my focus to Quillan. “You’ve been beating him for how long?”

“Forty-five minutes.”

Mathias doesn’t look up from where he’s studying a smudge on his otherwise pristine cuff. “An hour and twelve.”

Quillan blinks, pupils still blown ridiculously wide. “Really?”

“Yes,” his brother replies.

“Huh.”

I stare at him, at the sweat gleaming at his temples and the restless energy vibrating through him. “And you’re still having fun?”

His grin is sudden, brilliant, and utterly unhinged. “I told you. I took something.”