Devil You Know(67)

“You ain’t having anything of the kind,” Ty barks at him. “A coffee will be fine,” he repeats to me.

I take my leave, more than able to read between the lines. Malice still hasn’t acknowledged me, and unease settles over my shoulders as I stir the drinks. Why are Ty, and Bronx with him? And where’s Tigger?

The three men talk in hushed tones as I juggle the drinks in my hands, wracking my brain for what may have happened. It would damn well help if I knew what they truthfully did for a job. Butchers don’t come home looking that distressed. The mugs sear at my fingers while I carry them over, and Ty pulls out three coasters for me to put them on. I place them down, and take a seat on the chair opposite the boys.

Holy hell.

Malice has a split lip, blood dried over his chin. More stains his T-shirt, and bruising around the base of his neck already blooms. Bronx has the legs of his jeans rolled up, and he’s checking out a severe looking gash on his shin. Ty comes across as the cleanest of the three, but it’s clear he’s been in a scuffle as well.

Malice’s eyes lift to find mine, and he drops his gaze as quick. What the hell does he have to be ashamed of?

“What happened?” I ask softly.

Ty leans into the sofa, and nudges Malice with his knee.

“Not now, bro,” he snaps.

Bronx straightens out his legs, and shakes his head. “Man, you have to own up to this soon, or you’re going to confuse the hell out of the woman.”

“Like I’m not confused already,” I mutter.

“I didn’t want to explain it all to you like this, Jane,” Malice starts.

“But you kind of have to now,” I affirm.

He nods. “Yeah, I do.” His fingers rub a section of his stained T-shirt between them, as though he can erase the blood through friction alone. “Tigger took a hit tonight.”

I look over the three of them carefully, and notice the depth of their sullen expressions. He took more than a hit. “Who’s going to tell me why you all look like you’ve gone three rounds with a gladiator, then?”

Bronx looks at Ty, who looks at Malice, who stares at the floor.

Right.

“Any one of you will do,” I say, shaking my head.

Ty nudges Malice again, only this time he stands, and glares back at the guy. “Fine,” he growls. “Just stop fucking touching me.”

“Easy on, bro.” Ty hold his hands up. “You want us to leave?”

Malice glances at me, and them. “Not yet.”

I stare at the four coffees on the table, wishing I had something not quite as hot to keep my hands busy. Silence hangs thick in the air as Malice strides into the kitchen, and grabs a beer. He cracks the top off, and guzzles half the bottle before re-joining us all.

“Tigger liked to smoke,” he starts. “Weed, pot, whatever you want to call it. He did it everyday; it helped slow him down.”

I nod, not sure why he feels the need to tell me. Surely that’s Tigger’s business? Hold on . . . liked. My stomach turns and my hand retracts from the coffee before me.

“He went out on a job tonight, but it was all a set-up. Turns out the fuck-head owed a shark for money he borrowed to buy his stash.”

My unease sits heavy in my chest. “Where is he now?”

Ty stands abruptly, and walks over to the French doors. I’ve got no idea what he thinks he can see out there, but obviously it’s easier to look at than this room.

“He’s at the hospital,” Malice says.

I draw my knees to my chest.

“In the morgue,” he finishes.

Shock pulls the color from my face; numbness chasing the blood to my toes. I can’t begin to imagine how they all must feel. I glance at Bronx, but he’s staring intently at the leg of the table between us. Malice clears his throat, and looks to the ceiling.

Ty stands in silence like a bloody statue.

Nobody utters a word. I don’t think there would be any that could do the moment justice. These boys lost a close friend, and the grief hangs so heavy between them that I feel like I could reach out and touch it.

“What happens now?” I ask.

Ty finally turns from the doors, and looks at me with eyes so cold I could swear he’s not the same person. “We show them we won’t sit back and take it.”

“Revenge?”

“Exactly.”

I look at the three of them. They’re big guys, but really? Who are they thinking of going up against? “Is it worth the risk? Who are these people he owed? I mean, I’m sure you’d all give them a hell of a fight, but are you a match for a gang, or whatever they are? Surely they do this kind of stuff everyday?”

“Yeah, they do,” Malice says. “But we do, too.”