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“What?”

“I need him capable of answering Adrien’s questions.”

That gets Quillan to step away, barely. He begins pacing instead, short laps between the chair and the loading door, running both hands back through his hair before apparently remembering it’s tied at the nape of his neck.

I glance at him, black swallowing brown almost to the rim.

His pupils are enormous.

“Drink some water,” I scold him. “What the fuck did he even take?”

Mathias answers, “He won’t tell me. He’s pissed that I wouldn’t let him keep his latest playmate.”

Quillan whips toward his brother, glaring. “Fuck you, Matt! I’m a grown-ass adult. I shouldn’t need your goddamn approval on who I fuck.”

Mathias makes a sound that might be a laugh, but is low, dry, and dangerous. “You shouldn’t, and yet…”

“What happened this time?”

“He got attached to a money-hungry reporter posing as a boy at the club. Tried to sneak him into my home, then defended him when I found pictures and videos on his phone. Apparently, word’s gotten around that my brother is a desperate, dumb whore who’ll welcome anyone into our private lives,” Mathias spits, looking at Quillan with disdain.

Okay…

Starting to understand Quillan’s drug use.

I turn my attention back to Paulie, knowing it’s best not to interfere. “Did you tell anyone about the theft?”

Paulie lifts his head slowly, blood crusting beneath his nose, which I’m almost certain is broken. “What?” he rasps out.

“Does anyone know what you did? You brag to anybody? Tell someone you were worried about getting caught? That kind of shit, Paulie.”

His breathing is rough. In through his mouth because his nose is done for, out in ragged little bursts that fog in the cold air of the warehouse.

He hesitates. His eyes cut toward Quillan, then back down to his knees.

Quillan steps forward.

I hold up my hand without looking away from Paulie’s face. “Don’t.”

Paulie’s throat works. “My girl.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why mention her?”

His jaw tightens; I wait.

That’s another part people misunderstand about what I do. You don’t have to shout, and you don’t have to threaten constantly. Half the time, once someone understands where the conversation ends, silence does more work than anything else.

Paulie finally says, “Told her I might have to disappear for a while.”

There we go.

Across the room, Mathias’s eyes sharpen, the way a hawk’s do when it spots movement in the grass. “When?”

“Couple days ago.”