Page 103 of Ink's Devil

Beef stands up straight. His hands clench, and for a moment I wonder if he’s going to step into my role. “Thing is, Con, whether who you’ve gotten locked up will be fine, or whether it’s okay for them to hang on a few days, isn’t for you to decide. You see, we knew there was a SWAT team standing by that night. It was our fuckin’ premises that you and your friends were targeting. We wanted to make fuckin’ sure the cops caught whoever was there, and if they didn’t, we wanted to get our hands on them ourselves. My brother, Ink, saw Beth. Saw she was walking straight into a trap. He swapped places with her, and it’s him who’s fuckin’ inside.”

Connor’s mouth forms an O as he processes this new information and its implications.

Beef gives him a moment, then says in a deceptively casual tone, “So tell me, why shouldn’t we kill you?”

“Because I can help you get your man out,” Connor says fast.

Beef’s jaw drops. “How the fuck do you think you can do that?”

Christ, he’s a cocky little bastard. Or is he thinking he can swap information for Ink’s freedom? Not sure that would work. Not without dropping everyone, including Beth, in it.

I wait for Connor to answer Beef’s question. He swallows a couple of times and rubs his neck. “Look, I’ll tell you everything. But first, man, can I have a beer? My throat is parched.”

Pushing himself up, Beef lurches away from the bed and goes to the wall and starts banging his hand against it. The sight would be comical were it not that I share his frustration. Connor thinks he holds the key to getting Ink out but squeezing blood out of a stone would probably be easier than getting the words out of him.

I go to Beef’s side. “Want me to kill him?” I ask, casually.

Beef huffs a laugh and offers a heartfelt response, “Yeah.” Then his head shakes. “Get him his fuckin’ beer.”

Taking out my phone, I shoot off a quick text, then turn to the man on the bed. “You okay to drink with the painkillers you’re on?” I don’t really care, I just don’t want him comatose and unable to talk.

Connor gives me a sly look. “Can’t hurt if I’m already dead.”

It’s hard to argue against that.

It’s not more than a couple of minutes before there’s a knock on the door. On the other side is Karl with three bottles. Opening one, I pass the others to Beef and Connor. The latter takes a long drink, then sighs and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Was a moment when I didn’t think I’d taste that again,” he says, looking almost adoringly at the bottle he’s holding.

“Our brother might not,” Beef reminds him tersely.

Connor shifts, clearly trying to get comfortable, I don’t offer to help. He takes another, smaller sip, swallows, then starts, “I’d lived with Mom and Beth all my life. Mom was always on at me to do well at school, to go to college and get a good job. Beth was held up as a shining example, but what did she do? Work for the government offices in town. Sounded boring as hell to me.”

“There a point to this history lesson?” Beef asks.

He nods. “Yeah. About six years ago I set out to find my dad. Wasn’t hard, Mom didn’t try to hide him from me. Dear Phil didn’t want the bother of raising a child, but a kid nearly grown into a man? Now that he could work with. He didn’t live a boring life, he had money, knew people. Well, it sucked me in. When I was eighteen, I moved in with him.”

“And worked with him?”

I lean back against the wall, content to listen and let Beef do the prompting.

“For him, yeah. I’m tall, could do with muscling up a bit but he could use what I was.” He tries to laugh at himself, but bursts into a fit of coughing which obviously pains his broken ribs.

It’s a few seconds before he summons up the strength to speak again. Although both the VP and I are anxious to move this along, it’s clear he’s going to go at his own pace.

“At first, I was working in one of his clubs. Got a job as assistant manager, fuck knows why. Nepotism at its best. But I was too young to realise I was there in name only, the manager used to put me on the right track and clear up any mess I created. All I could see was at eighteen I’d stepped into a job I’d never have gotten back in Pueblo. I felt important to him, more so than I ever did with my mom.”

“He was proud to have you as his son?”

“Nah. We never had that kind of relationship. Anyway, stuck that out for a couple of years, then I tried flexing my muscles and fucked up. Lost him one of his best employees. That’s when I saw his other side, but hey, I deserved it.”

“He hurt you?”

“No. But I lost my job in the club and my rank in his organisation. I’d have done anything to get that and his respect back. And I did. I took on anything. That’s when he got me working his protection racket.”

“You enjoyed that shit?”

“Hell no. But hey, he was offering a service and expected to get paid.” His brow creases. “The women with kids were the worst. Hated taking whatever they had.” His face twists as he remembers. “But I still gave my dad a pass. He was a successful businessman, and for a while, I wanted to be just like him. Until I found out what else he was into.”

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