Page 47 of Fool Me Twice

The paramedics had settled down next to the stabbed fighter and the cops were already detaining people for questioning and cordoning shit off.

“Oh, I’d say this is right up my alley,” Cyrus said. “Illegal fight ring, a well-known ‘entrepreneur,’ and a stabbing case.”

“Illegal?” Cane tilted his head. “First I’m hearing about it. As far as the paperwork says, this is a legitimate business.”

“Interesting,” Cyrus said. “Because this is raising all sorts of red flags for me.”

“Last I checked you were after curses these days,” Cane said, ignoring that last remark. His front was solid. He’d made fucking sure of it this time. No amount of law enforcement posturing would shake that. “Or were you that awful at it they told you to fuck off?”

“Nope,” Cyrus said with a smile. “Still with PUMA. And happily so.”

“Save me the nostalgia.” Cane hoped he sounded just as pissed off as he felt. “I’ll repeat myself one more time before I ask you to leave. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“That was Hart, right?” Cyrus asked, ignoring his question and pointing to the stairs leading to Cane’s office.

Something about Cyrus saying Hart’s name flicked a switch inside him. Explosive. He got into Cyrus’s space in an instant. “How the fuck do you know Hart?”

“Now, now, Cane. That’s no way to speak to an officer of the law. Don’t go biting my head off,” Cyrus drawled lazily, though his eyes were calculating. Cataloging and filing the extreme reaction Cane had given away so freely. God fucking damn it. “The Prevention of Unauthorized Magical Activity department has to work with cursebreakers quite a lot. There’s only one cursebreaking team in Slatehollow, so I’ve worked with Hart on multiple occasions.”

Fuck him and his logic.

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re here. I’m starting to get real impatient, Cyrus.”

Cyrus shrugged, still feigning ease. “Heard it through the grapevine you’ve been having a few, what shall we call them…issues? And that you were suddenly working with the cursebreakers. Storming their headquarters doesn’t really go unnoticed.”

“You’re wasting your time,” Cane said.

“You know, I think I’ll wait for Hart to tell me that,” Cyrus mused. “If the stabbing was curse induced, this is very much my area, and I trust Hart’s judgment.”

Cane was seething. He was an inch away from having Cyrus thrown out on his ass, consequences be damned, when his phone pocket vibrated against his thigh.

Cane already knew who it would be. He’d been expecting it. He schooled his reaction in front of Cyrus though, not willing to give him any more ammunition.

“Knock yourself out,” he said, walking around him to the entrance of the ring.

“Don’t go anywhere, Cane,” Cyrus said to his back. “I’ll have questions.”

“This is my place. I’m not fucking leaving,” Cane growled back, making sure he was far enough away before taking the call.

“What?” he snapped into the receiver.

“That’s no way to speak to your clientele,” a slightly robotic voice said. Voice distortion. Or a caster equivalent.

Cane gritted his teeth. “I’ve got it under control. Tonight was a one-off.”

“We beg to differ. There’ve been quite a few rumors spreading around about you and your business that are very concerning to us.”

“You take rumors as facts now?” Cane asked.

They laughed. “You know as well as we do that rumors in our sphere are often more truthful than facts.”

“So what?” Cane snapped. “You call me to make a point or just bitch and moan?”

“We’re pulling out,” they said succinctly. “With the police attention and your string of…bad luck. We don’t think this is a fruitful relationship anymore. We’ll be taking our business and money elsewhere.”

“You motherfucking—”

They hung up and Cane narrowly avoided smashing the phone against the wall, the only thing saving it being another call from an unregistered number.

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