Page 70 of Crave

“I’ll get the rest.”

“You better.” He pushed the money across to the bloke on his left and slurped his tea as if he didn’t have to breathe the same air as me. “You look like shit.”

“Been busy.” I let the lie sit on my tongue.

“So I hear.” He glanced down at his food, moving it about with a blunt knife. “Busy losing product I paid for. Busy letting kids go missing. Busy letting Ghost’s scumbags take the piss out of you.”

I kept my mouth shut.

“You know what a good lieutenant does when his patch gets hit?” Cormac dipped a triangle of toast into his yolk and watched me with those flat, unreadable eyes behind the lenses.

“Finds the leak. Fixes it.”

“Well done. Gold star. And you should have before I have to.”

I waited. Like a good little soldier.

“You owe me twenty grand in gear and reputation.” Cormac eyed me. “I don’t give a fuck which you get back first.”

I nodded once, the room tilting.

“You’ve got a week.” Cormac speared a sausage, lifted it to his mouth, and bit off half with a lazy chew. “Either my product, my money… or Ghost’s heart on a plate.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Make it right, or I’ll find someone who can.”

“Yes, boss.”

He held the fork suspended in the air for a beat. Then he pointed it at the heavies flanking him. “Don’t make me send the boys round to your mum.”

My insides coiled tight. Pride, fear, both twisting together like barbed wire. But I kept my face dead still. He wouldn’t get to see me flinch.

Cormac cocked his head, chewing slow, pale eyes fixed on me the way a butcher looks at an animal he’s pricing up. “Your sister’s of age now, aye?” He took a slurp of strong tea. “Pretty little thing, ain’t she now? Nice tits.”

My jaw locked so hard I felt the crack in my molars.

He smiled at that. “Don’t make me knock on her door for payment, Razor.” He tore off the toast with his teeth, watching me over the top of it. “I don’t like hurting women. But I will.”

The heavies didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

They didn’t need to. His words did the work.

“No need to make a baby an orphan now, is there?” He chewed. Smiled. Sat back and locked his fingers together over his stomach. “Although, could always get rid of that little thing too. Make life easier for everyone.”

The threat hung violently in the air, soft as smoke, sharp as a blade.

Because he meant every syllable.

He’d hurt my mum.

Hurt Keeley.

Crush that baby’s life between two fingers if it made his books balance.

And if he ever sniffed out anyone else I had a soft spot for, he’d use them too. Break them. Turn them into leverage. Another reason why my mess with pretty boy had to stay buried deeper than a grave.

Cormac kept looking at me.

And I sat there, trapped in the stink of grease and steam, knowing full well I wasn’t walking out free.

I was walking out with the countdown ticking.