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“I hear you been looking for some guy,” he said, leaning in.
“The name’s Walter Black,” I said. “Do you have any idea who he is?”
“Someone you don’t want to mess with,” Fred said, giving me a look that I assumed was meant to be a warning.
“Is that a fact?” I asked uncaringly.
“There’s been rumors and shit floating around… The Angels are throwing their weight around, trying to stir up shit.”
“We’re not stirring up anything,” I said. “We’re just trying to find this guy.”
“Why?”
“I just want to have a conversation with the man,” I said with a shrug. “That’s all.”
“About what?”
“That’s my fucking business,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Sounds like you’re messing with someone else’s business…”
I exchanged a look with Devon. “Is there someone in particular you’re talking about?” I asked.
Fred gave me a seedy smile. “People aren’t going to tolerate your lot throwing their weight around.”
“Are you speaking for someone?” I asked.
“I’m just saying—”
“Sounds to me like you’re someone’s little lapdog,” I said. “Actually, no… ore like you’re someone’s little bitch.”
Fred’s smile dropped immediately, and his cheeks went scarlet with anger. Then he stood up all of a sudden and looked down at me threateningly. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
I took a calm sip of my beer and stood up. I was around the same height as Fred, but I was a hell of a lot bigger. Fred seemed to notice that too because I saw his Adam’s apple move up and down in a noticeable gulp. Still, he didn’t want to back down now. He wanted to at least make an attempt to show me he wasn’t scared of me. I felt Devon just behind me, waiting to provide back up if I needed it. The bartender was looking at us carefully, and the three other men in the bar had stopped drinking too.
“I’m the fucking head of the Fallen Angels,” I said, taking a threatening step towards Fred. “Who are you, and who have you been bought by?”
“I… No one has bought me,” Fred replied, stumbling over his denial so fervently that it was basically an admission of guilt.
“Really?” I whispered to him. “Because it seems like Godwin’s a little scared… Now, why would he be scared of me, huh?”
“Get out of my bar,” Fred said, trying to maintain a façade of fearlessness.
I smiled. “I’ll leave when I’m good and ready—”
I don’t know what possessed him. The man obviously had no skill, but apparently, he thought he might have a chance if he took me by surprise. He lunged at me suddenly; his fist made a whooshing sound as it hit when I moved my head to the side. I didn’t hesitate. In the next second, I had grabbed his arm and pulled it back, locking it behind him so that he couldn’t move. He struggled a little, and out of pity I let him go. But the moment he turned to face me, I sent a clean punch right at his face, and he hit the ground with a satisfying groan.
I could see blood gush from his face, and I knew I had broken his nose. I took a step towards him, and he tried to sidle away from me, clutching his nose in a panic. Everyone in the bar had frozen, even his bartender, who didn’t look like he was inclined to come to his boss’s defense. That was a smart move in my opinion.
I bent to the ground where Fred lay simpering. “Make sure you make some noise about this, Freddy,” I said. “And make sure you let everyone know that whoever Walter Black is… we’re coming for him. And I’ll leave him with far worse than a broken nose.”
Then I stood up and nodded to Devon. “Our business here is done; let’s go.”
We headed out of the bar, and the moment we were back in the car, Devon sighed deeply. “Fuck.”
“Did that convince you?” I asked.
“Do you think Walter Black is an alias?” Devon asked.
