Page 68 of Devil May Lie

Madden snorted. “My bookkeeper is off the clock. No can do.”

Canham lowered the gun and fired off a round, the bullet cracking through the concrete less than half a foot away from the tips of Madden’s boots. “The next one goes in your kneecap.”

He wasn’t faster than a blaster, so darting forward wasn’t going to get him much more than a hole in his body. And even if he did somehow manage to get it off Canham, there was no way of knowing if the others weren’t also packing.

“Okay,” he said. Why not? They weren’t wrong about him not missing the coin either. He’d pay them now, have the police department run a search using the security footage them, and then pay them a visit under the shroud of darkness just like they had him. Only he wouldn’t waste time on meaningless chatter. He’d put a bullet through each of their skulls as soon as they saw it was him and—

“It’s so loud,” Berga’s usual empty tone came from above them a second before he appeared at the top of the landing. Casually, he made his way down, assessing the scene before him with obvious disinterest. “I was sleeping.”

“Shit,” the redhead cursed and retreated a step, the other two with him following suit.

Right. Because they’d mentioned they were afraid of the Brumal. Made sense. Everyone feared the mafia, especially small fry loan sharks who risked stepping into their territory on the daily.

Berga came to the bottom of the steps and cocked his head, taking in the leader. “Canham Smartly, correct?”

That was not this moron's last name…? Seriously?

Madden would have laughed, but now that they were closer, he could tell that Berga’s color was still slightly off. He shouldn’t be up right now. And why weren’t Guest or Bay with him?

“Yes,” Canham straightened but didn’t drop the blaster still pointed at Madden. “I wasn’t aware you were here, Butcher.”

“I come by on occasion.” Berga moved into the kitchen and opened the fridge. “What brings the hardworking members of Grimes and Fraunz all the way out to the Docks? I didn’t realize you were friends with them, Madden.”

“Does it look like we’re close, baby?” Madden asked, indicating the gun with his chin.

“Baby?” the redhead whispered, and his two buddies swore and slid another step back.

Canham was too busy staring at Berga like a superfan who’d just met their idol to notice.

“Aren’t you playing?” Berga asked, that total lack of concern still in his voice.

“He owes us money,” Canham seized the opportunity to say. “It’s business. Nothing personal.”

“Does he?” Berga popped open a can of beer and took a drag before holding it up in silent offer for Canham. When he nodded, he grabbed a second one and went to the bar, placing his down so he could pop the top for Canham as he spoke. “Well, then, he should pay you back. What are you waiting for, Madden? Grimes and Fraunz are known for settling their debts quickly. They have the fastest turnaround times in the city. Even the companies run by the Brumal give at least an extra week for repayments. It’s better just to get it over with so it’s off your mind.”

“You’ve heard of us?” a blond who’d been cowering only a moment ago perked up some at that.

Berga hummed and walked over to Canham, stopping at a respectable distance. He held out the can, continuing only once the man had taken it. “Of course. You’ve been on the Brumal’s radar for a couple of months now. Ever since that deal you pulled with the Mulkin family. Impressive work.”

“Thank you.” Canham sipped the beer, but no matter how much he idolized Berga, his hand on the blaster never wavered.

“How much does he owe you?” Berga asked, heading to Madden.

“Thirty thousand coin.”

“I see. No wonder you came to collect. That’s not a small sum.”

“It was originally Eric’s,” Madden drawled when Berga reached him, and when the Butcher lifted a questioning brow, added, “The guy who got stabbed in the neck.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “He really shouldn’t have pulled the knife out like that. None of us would be here if he’d been just a little bit smarter. But, then again, I suppose the same can be said about you all.”

“What?” Canham paused with the can pressed to his lips, frowning. Almost as though he couldn’t compute the insult after Berga had been kissing up to him the past five minutes.

“It should start—” Berga was cut off by a startled and pained sound from Canham. “There we go. Right on time.”

The man dropped the can of beer onto the ground, frothy golden liquid pouring out to soak his expensive leather shoes. Not that he seemed to notice, too caught up with grabbing onto his throat. He finally dropped the blaster, but only because he got distracted.

His sudden screams were loud enough to make Madden wince.

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