Page 39 of Mean Machine

Brooklyn’s stomach churned.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Nathaniel reached over to touch his hand. “What is it?”

“Caught what you said on the phone.”

Nathaniel’s face twitched. “And?”

“You know Edwards well?”

“We move in the same circles.” Nathaniel pressed his hand. “He interfered with the law. Or, to use a somewhat hackneyed concept, with justice.”

“But is it right that policemen can kill people and not get done for it? Usually?”

“In our country, policemen and soldiers never get convicted,” Nathaniel said.

“Yeah, but is that the right thing?”

“I do not believe they should start with you when they begin convicting people who made a mistake while on duty and risking their necks for the state.”

Brooklyn pulled back. “She was nineteen. Half my weight. She couldn’t have been a threat under the best of circumstances.”

Nathaniel regarded him, clearly evaluating several options. Brooklyn wished he’d stop that and say what he thought. Straight out. No strategy, no tactics, nothing but the bare-arsed truth.

“Would you prefer to stay a convict to punish yourself? Edwards would certainly agree. To him, you’re a piece of council trash who should never have been allowed to mix in polite society. You should never have finished school, let alone become a policeman. You should never have had a shot at a marriage or children or, you know, a modest terraced house somewhere in the commuter belt that you’d pay off for thirty years, with your wife taking a part-time job in some retail outlet once the children are old enough. To him, you didn’t deserve a shot at any of this, and he’s making no secrets of his opinions.”

“Just because he’s a fucking toff doesn’t mean I wanted to kill his daughter.”

“I’m a fucking toff too, Brooklyn. And no, this isn’t about class. This is about a powerful man’s unforgiven burden that he projects onto you.”

Brooklyn laughed. “I did kill his daughter. It’s not…. It’s real, Nathaniel. I killed her. If somebody had killed my child, I would have bloody murdered them, no mistake.”

“We’ve since moved on from the ‘an eye for an eye’ laws.” Nathaniel rubbed his face. “Listen. I understand your guilt. I’m not saying you’re innocent—even though it could still be argued it was an accident, it probably doesn’t feel that way to you, and feelings are feelings because they’re irrational. But even if you were guilty, what would you do with your life? You’re not a menace to society. From what I can tell, you’d do anything to have your old life back. That’s not the mindset of a man who’s going to kill again.”

Brooklyn studied him in silence, the earnest expression on his face, the calm, rational demeanour, heated with real conviction. “Shit, you’re good.” He leaned back.

Nathaniel smirked with a measure of self-satisfaction. “Not quite the world champion of barristers, but in my career, I had a little more time and much more support.”

Brooklyn forced himself to at least have a banana, so he cut that into his porridge. Working out without some kind of breakfast wouldn’t get him where he wanted. “So what’s going to happen?”

“Today?” Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. “I’ll submit what I have on your case. And then wait for the hammer to fall.” He reached over and touched Brooklyn’s hand again. “You might fight Odysseus as a convict, but you’ll fight Thorne on your own terms. As you say, as your own master. I promise.”

Brooklyn turned his wrist and briefly squeezed Nathaniel’s hand. “And if that doesn’t work?”

“Then things get really interesting. I can’t afford to buy you out, Brooklyn. I will confess that I tried to solve this with money. I submitted an offer to ICU directly a while ago, but I was told your contract would be worth a lot more once you become champion. Since then, I’ve bought as many of your shares as I could afford. But the total price is out of my budget.”

Shit. That must have been the bid Les had advised against accepting. Had Les known who the bidder was? Had Les approved, his life would already be quite different. Could he be Nathaniel’s asset? Even if, between them, it wouldn’t matter? Just on the outside? No. But serving his contract with Nathaniel would be a hell of a lot better than being part of ISU’s stable and living in the gym.

“What if I throw the fight?” Brooklyn stood. “I could lose.” His stomach knotted and somersaulted at the thought.

Nathaniel stared at him, even put his croissant down. “They’d be able to tell the difference.”

“Maybe.” Brooklyn sighed. “But if that’s the only way to get out?”

“They’ll think I broke you, or at least your will to fight.”

“Would you be in trouble?”

“Possibly, but I’m more worried about you. You’d get hurt. They can use some fairly extreme measures to, let’s say, reignite your desire to win.”

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