Page 26 of Man of Honor

I flexed my shoulders and spat a mouthful of blood onto the grimy floor.The air was thick, hotter than it should’ve been this time of year, drifting in through open windows and barely cooled by some lazily spinning box fans.The jukebox had finally run out of tokens, cutting Hendrix short, and an oppressive silence settled over the room.A few hard drinkers made their escape, clattering through the rear exit, but neither of us so much as glanced in that direction.

The guy's face twitched as he stared down at the glob of bloody saliva near his boots.

I gave him a smile that felt more like a snarl and said, “See, I wanna make it real clear that you’re done.‘Cause once you are, it’s my turn…and I promise, you’re not gonna like it.”

His swagger slipped then, and he glanced over his shoulder at his two buddies, hovering near the bar like they were waiting for a cue.The only thing stopping them from making it a three-on-one was Silas, watching from behind the bar with his arms crossed, flexing a set of guns the size of bowling balls.

“Well?” I took a slow, deliberate step forward.“You done?”

Adrenaline was spiking my blood, electrifying my veins, pushing me to a point that begged for release.Violence was the easiest way to settle the restless energy inside me.Always had been.

I’d bounced at enough clubs to recognize the exact moment this guy realized he was in over his head.His fried brain wasn’t running on much more than meth and ego at this point.Yeah. He was just about there.I could practically smell the fear rolling off him.

My smile seemed to push him over the edge.His eyes widened, and he lunged, swinging wide with a desperate left hook that might’ve done some damage if he wasn't so slow.But he never got close to connecting.His friends jumped in, grabbing him around his sweaty torso and yanking him away.They wrestled him back toward the door, shouting, “Easy, man.Easy!”

The biggest, most sober-looking man edged backward, hands up, attention shifting between me and Silas, who still hadn’t moved an inch.“He’s just drunk,” he said, trying to smooth it over.“He didn’t mean nothin’. We’ll get him out of here.”

I stared him down, ice cold. “Not before you tell me where to find Paulie."

“We can’t.” He was tripping over his own feet as they nudged their loudmouth buddy toward the exit, and he shot his friends a desperate, knowing look.“He’d kill us—and he ain’t the only one.He's got badges watching out for him.”

Dominic's words came back to haunt me: more than half the department is dirty.

"Tell me their names," I said coldly.

"I don't know."

"Teddy? Vanderhoff?" I hesitated, then added despite my better judgment, "Brooks?"

He stared at me like I'd lost my mind."You think they leave business cards?I don't fuckin' know, man! All I know is he's protected.Never done even a minute behind bars.With the shit he's into...you think that's a coincidence?"

I wanted to press him on it, but I could already tell I wouldn’t be getting anything useful.They were small fries,scared spitless over what the bigger fish would do to them if they snitched.I caught the door and held it open as they shuffled backward.“Better hope I don’t catch you around here again.Next time, you won’t be walking away.”

The ringleader looked like he might argue, but his buddy kicked the back of his knee and shoved him toward the parking lot.I watched them just long enough to be sure they weren’t coming back with a weapon.They were already beaten; I saw it in their slumped shoulders.I waited a moment longer, but the no-see-ums were trying to get through the open door, so I slammed it shut behind them.

Frustration and disappointment were flooding me, and not just because I hadn’t gotten any leads on Paulie.I’d needed that fight. I hadn’t realized how badly I wanted to hit something until my chance ran right out the door.

Silas McKenna’s deep, amused baritone interrupted my brooding.“No way they’ll stay away. Not tonight.Their dealer should be waltzing in any minute.”

“He’ll leave the same way they did,” I muttered, rolling my neck and taking a deep breath.It didn’t ease the hot, itchy feeling under my skin.

Silas popped the cap off a beer and thrust the bottle in my direction.I gave him a grateful nod and downed half the bitter, hoppy liquid in one go.It stung my split lip, but I barely noticed.

I was busy watching Silas.

He wasn’t from around here, but he fit right in.Built like a lumberjack with tree trunks for legs, he looked like a man who’d seen more than his fair share of rough nights.His hair was crazy long and tied back in a low ponytail, and he dressed like areformed biker.Or maybe not so reformed after all, considering his clientele.He was probably around Wyatt’s age but carried himself with the easygoing calm of a man who’d learned not to take life too seriously.

I cocked my head. “Why don’t you just beat the crap out of ‘em yourself if the cops won’t get rid of them?”

His chuckle was a pack-a-day rasp.“Wouldn’t be the first time, kid.But I’ve learned a thing or two over the years.There’s no sense fighting a war on two fronts.The Sheriff would love to make an example of a guy like me.”

“He can’t even get off his ass to arrest those thugs. What makes you so different?”

Silas took a lazy sip of his beer and grinned.“I’m not scared of him, for starters.But I’ve already got a record, so I don’t need him breathing down my neck.He’d love to toss me back in a cell.Besides, patience is a hell of a weapon if you know how to use it.”

I snorted and finished off my own beer, not even a little bit convinced.

That was when the door swung open and Mason strolled in on a blast of muggy air, looking like he'd just crawled out of a ditch.My eyebrows shot toward the roof in surprise.I'd never seen my brother in such a state.He was usually the poster boy for business cool: impeccable suit, starched collar, and not a single hair out of place.But not tonight. The wrinkles in his suit jacket were so deep, it looked like he'd bunched it up and used it as a pillow.Unshaven scruff covered his jaw, and he had the exhausted, puffy-eyed look of a man coming off a hard bender.

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