“For who? The state?” I’m pretty certain the answer will be—
“No.”
Damn. “Who, then?”
“We work for ourselves. Ty saw an opportunity, and he took it. Living on the streets, we used to watch the dealings going down after dark. There’s so many organizations out there, all vying for a spot, that they sometimes struggle to keep up with the lesser tasks like reining in the debts owed to them. The syndicates needed the grunt, and we needed a roof over our head . . . and food.”
Tension wracks my body. The need to flee the room is strong, but the logical side of my brain reminds me I’m not the one at risk. If he wanted to hurt me, I’d be long gone. Hurt me physically, not mentally.
“Are you trying to say you’re part of a gang or something?”
“Some of the crowds we do work for are gangs, some prefer the name club. And no, we’re not part of any of them. Most of the time we’re never allowed to step foot in their place. All the exchanges go down off-site.”
“Why?”
He sighs, and rolls to face me once more. “Physical distance. Deniability. If we aren’t at their residences, aren’t on camera, then they can deny we have anything to do with them if necessary.”
“Suppose it makes sense.” My fingers weave in the sheet around my waist. “What exactly do you do when you ‘pick people up’?”
“Most of the time it doesn’t take much, but we use whatever force is necessary.”
“Have you ever, like—”
“Killed someone?”
“Yeah.” I laugh . . . awkwardly.
“No.” He sounds positively shocked I would think it. “I’m not a hit-man, Jane.”
“But you hurt people.”
He frowns, and I know I’ve let on what’s bothering me most. “Not like that bastard did to you. These people deserve what’s coming to them.”
“Do they?” I hold his gaze. “Do people ever deserve to be treated worse than an animal?”
He hangs his head, and sighs. “If they treat others like that for no given reason, then yes, they do. What goes around comes around.”
He has me on that. When I put it into the perspective of Dylan, how many times had I wished for worse things to happen to him? How many times had I wished for retribution?
“Why didn’t you tell me this from the start? Why say you’re a butcher?”
Malice shifts so he sits with his legs over the side of the bed. “It wasn’t a complete lie. We are known as The Butchers. It was like a code name or something, and it stuck.”
“How long have you done this?” The morbid curiosity is too much. I have to know.
“I haven’t always been the one to collect. When we started out I was a scout, sussing out where the targets were, and passing on the information to Ty.”
“And then what? X amount of scouts later you got a promotion?” I cringe at the snarky tone I’m taking.
“If you want to call it that.”
“Where next? I mean, have you hit the top of your game, or is there something else to aspire to?”
“Don’t be like that.” He stands, and paces the room.
“I’m sorry. It’s a little hard to swallow, you know? At least Dylan didn’t beat me up for money. I honestly can’t decide what’s worse right now: being an asshole and doing it for fun, or choosing to do it for the money.”
“I never chose this life.”
“What? Did they twist your arm behind your back until you agreed? I mean, it doesn’t seem like you tried to get out of it.” I’m hitting low, but fuck, when was he going to tell me this?
“You don’t know as much about me as you think, Jane. Fucking me doesn’t give you some golden insight into what goes on up here.” He taps his temple. “The whole situation I’m in is pretty fucking messed up. I can’t expect you to understand.”
“As messed up as leaving an abusive husband for a man who beats the living shit out of people for money?”
“I don’t always beat them up.”
“Oh, good. That makes me feel so much better,” I bite out.
“Are you going to give me a chance to explain?” He stills, and frowns at me.
“Explain what, Malice? That you took a job ratting out people for food, and then chose to move on to better and brighter things, like dragging them in for cash instead of walking away? You said yourself you aren’t a part of the clubs, and the guys you do this with are your friends, so why stick about? I’m sure the guys would understand if you wanted out.”
“It’s not as simple as walking away, Jane. What would you fucking know?”