Page 47 of ’Til You Break

The odds are low, but complacency gets people killed.

“Down you go.”

Once the hatch is fully open, he climbs down without a fight.

The bunker, as it’s come to be known, has served as my primary base ever since I acquired this section of forest. It’s close enough to the city that I can reach it quickly. And hidden enough to keep my two lives separate.

It’s also where Frank Coleman has spent the better part of the past two weeks. No doubt it’s where he’ll meet his end.

I usher Brian along the corridor at the bottom of the stairs. It’s grimy. Poorly lit. Frank’s distant howls echo from one of the cells, filling the bunker with a constant reminder of what’s waiting for anyone brought here.

There are three rooms. The first serves as a waiting and observation area for my men, fully stocked with everything they need to stay comfortable during long shifts. The second is a holding cell, built for three occupants but rarely housing more than one. The last is the interrogation room. That’s where Brian and I are headed.

A single yellow bulb hangs above a metal chair. Everything else is bare concrete from floor to ceiling. A tomb where many have entered... and very few have left.

Brian sits. I remain standing a few feet away. His posture tells me he’s been here before. Not this exact room, but in situations like this. He understands the danger. More importantly... he believes he’ll survive it.

“So...” He runs a hand through his hair before resting one ankle across his opposite knee. “You gonna tell me what this is about now?”

“I understand you work in acquisitions.” It’s vague enough that if I’ve got the wrong man, I’ll know soon enough.

But if Brian belongs to their circle... He’ll know exactly what I mean.

“I do,” he says. “But if this is what I think it is, young pup, you aren’t the first piece of shit who’s tried to shake me down.”

Maybe. But I’ll be the last.

“Who said anything about a shakedown?” I ask.

“The mask, for one. Breaking into my car. Driving me out to the woods. A somber backing track of men howling in the distance,” Brian lists his observations. “Oh, and who could forget the gun?”

I’ll admit that the way Frank moans, it’s easy to mistake him for more than one man. But Brian will get another taste of freedom if he plays his cards right.

“I’m a private man, Mr. Harris. I believe deals like this can’t be made in the open. One wrong pair of eyes can turn even the greatest plans to ash.”

“Mind if I have a cigarette?” Brian asks, ignoring my comment.

I wave a hand in acknowledgment.

He fishes a packet from his pocket, lights a cigarette, and takes the first few drags while contemplating his situation.

“I’m not a gambling man, but I’d wager that if you were going to kill me, I’d already be dead.”

He rolls the cigarette between his fingers as he speaks, talking more to himself than to me.

“And if you’ve gone through all the trouble of bringing me here, I’m guessing you already know more about me than I’d ever admit out loud. So... fuck it. Let’s hear what you’re scheming.”

I holster my gun, a silent signal that the immediate threat has passed. I’ve lowered his guard enough to get through the rest of this conversation.

“I learned about you through an associate of Frank Coleman,” I say.

Brian’s ears twitch at Frank’s name. Another point in my favor.

“He told me you and your people are the best in the business.”

I have to suppress a chuckle, knowing Frank’s the one providing the theatrical soundtrack a few feet away.

“Nah, not my people. They’re good at what they do, though.” Brian shrugs. “But don’t let the flashy suits and expensive watches fool you. They’re street-corner thugs.”