Road To Fire (Broken Crown Trilogy #1) - Maria Luis Page 0,48
I’m the one who’s bein’ sacked?”
Elbows planted on my desk at The Bell & Hand, I meet the gaze of the man who’s been by my side since we opened. Over the years, I’ve saved him more times than I count, even when logic told me to let him go. Jack’s a loose cannon on the best of days and a walking disaster on his worst. Temperamental might as well be his middle name. Yesterday’s backtalk, however, sealed his fate. “Today will be your last shift.”
Jack leans across the desk to jab a finger in my face. “Hold on. You’re sackin’ me but you’re keeping that fuckin’ bint?”
Each word is abbreviated with another finger jab.
“Keep that up, and you’ll be missing a finger along with your pride.”
Expression hardening, he doesn’t pull back. If anything, he thrusts that digit closer. “I know too much about you, Priest. About this entire damned place. You think I won’t use that information? You think I won’t—”
A squeal erupts from Jack’s mouth when I grab his hand, snap that finger backward, and listen for the telltale crack signaling a clean break. “Motherfucker!” he screams, scrambling back to cradle his hand to his chest.
“Unlike you, I don’t make promises that I can’t keep.” Slowly, I rise from my desk, my knuckles rooted to the wood. “Loyalty, Jack. It’s a simple thing.”
Still holding his broken hand to his chest, he snarls, “You don’t think I recognize a sinkin’ ship when I see one? The minute that bitch walked in here, ye’ve been unable to think with anything but your knob.”
My muscles vibrate with barely leashed control. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” On shaky feet, he strides toward me, only to stutter to a halt when he sees the look on my face. “I see it. We all do. Ye watched her leave that first day like she’d taken the air with her. A fool, that’s what you are. A bird like that ain’t gonna be doin’ you any favors.”
Frustration bleeds into me, and it takes every ounce of self-possession not to beat the man to a pulp. He has no idea what the bloody hell he’s talking about. Isla is a piece of the puzzle for my long game, that’s all.
Nothing more.
I storm over to the door and swing it open. “Change of plans. You’re done now.”
“You’ll regret this, Priest,” he snaps, closing the gap with his nostrils flared, his eyes narrowed to slits. “Everything about this pub—I could spill its secrets so fast ye’d be unable to do anything to stop—”
My hand locks around his throat as I drive him into the open door. Eyes going wide, he scrabbles at my fingers.
I’ll let go when I’m good and ready.
I thrust my face close to his, until he can feel each of my knuckles cutting off his air supply. “Wasted words,” I utter, calmly, evenly. “Turning me in would only convict yourself.” I squeeze, so he’ll feel the power behind my grip. His breath heaves and mine remains steady, and still I keep him plastered against the door. “The thing about blackmail, Jack, is that it’s only successful if you’re smart enough to pull it off. Methodical to the very end.” I lower my voice. “I’d catch you every step of the way. Every time you thought you’d pulled the wool over my head, I’d beat you at your own game until there’s nothing left of you. No hope, no ambition. Save us both the headache.”
Red in the face, he breathes, “You’re a cold bastard.”
“So I’ve been told.”
I let him go with a push out the door. He stumbles forward, his gait uneven, but catches himself before landing flat on his face. Silently, I watch from the hallway as he moves toward the front of the pub. He snarls like a beast at one of the staff, then picks up a glass from a table and hurls it against the wall.
Just like a child who hasn’t gotten his way.
At all the commotion, Guy’s dark head pokes into the hall, and he glances over to where I’m standing. “Sacked him?”
I give a curt nod.
“Finally,” he says, clapping his hands together in mock applause. “This calls for a celebration. I’ve only been waiting for this moment for almost ten years.”
I stride toward him. “Can’t. I have a meeting.”
His brows knit together. “With?”
“Isla.” Pulling my mobile out from the back pocket of my trousers, I check the time. Right on target. “Is she here?”