Colton
Istep over the threshold, trailing behind Harper, practically glued to her back so she can’t panic and change her mind again.
She stops and I move to stand at her side, eyes tracing her features. But there is nothing to see there.
Her face is completely blank, utterly devoid of emotion as she stares into the center of the office.
At the man strapped down to the chair in the center, a black cloth wrapped around his head, pulled across his mouth and dragging the corners up into a tortured smile.
Not the most pleasant gag to look at, but I supposed this one isn’t made for fun.
His eyes aren’t panicked or searching the room, he’s calm, breathing deeply. Like he’s felt the bite of restraints into his skin before, welcoming it back like the most annoying habit you can’t kick.
A seasoned scumbag then.
Harper just watches him for a minute, not speaking, letting the silence stretch out until the asshole starts to shift in his seat.
Then Harper laughs, a small chuckle, but enough to have everyone’s eyes snapping in her direction.
She is covering her smile with one delicate hand, playing coy for her audience.
That’s when I realize what she already saw, everyone’s eyes snapped to her, including the pathetic excuse for a man tied and gagged in the center of the room.
He doesn’t know who she is. He was looking at me when we entered, deciding I was the threat, and she was decoration.
Harper leaves my side to stand in front of the chair, crouching down to be eye level with the bound man. He looks back up to me, searching my face for answers he won’t find.
“Oh silly boy, don’t look at him.” She reaches her hand up and gently caresses his cheek, pulling his gaze back to her face. “He can’t help you.”
Her smile is all teeth, and it’s unnerving to watch her playing with him. She stands gracefully and circles to the back of his chair, running a hand through his hair like a lover. His eyes start to close, before she tightly pulls back, a pained groan leaving his lips at the sharp tug.
“You’re going to be good, aren’t you? If you tell me what I want to know, there is no need for this to be…messy,” she coos down at him.
Her voice is dark and sultry, and it’s doing things to me.
I swear if she calls him a good boy, I might have to excuse myself for a minute.
She shouldn’t sound this good when she’s promising pain.
It’s like singing a lullaby to a beast before the slaughter, keeping the prey calm so they never see a blade until it’s too late.
She lets him pull his head from her grip, a low rumble coming from deep in his chest as he once again faces me at the front of the room. He can wear the emotions of someone unconcerned, but he can’t fake the uptick in heartbeat or his breathing becoming shallow with every exhale.
Taste the air while you can, soon you may not have enough left to beg.
Harper sighs dramatically, looking back to Sadie, where she is casually sitting atop Harper’s desk, legs calmly swinging back and forth.
I was worried this would leave her a shell of herself again, that it would bring up old wounds.
But from the way she lounges about, it would appear dealers aren’t the problem, just the shit they push.
Harper doesn’t speak, just nods to where the camera is mounted above the door to the office.
Silently asking for confirmation it’s off.
Sadie scowls and dramatically mouths Duh to her sister who turns back around and looks at Wade.
He takes out his phone and types something out, looking back at Harper with one raised eyebrow. She nods once before he fires off the message. Within seconds, the club’s music increases in volume, shouts and cheers increasing with it to be heard over the beat.
Harper takes one deep breath, closing her eyes before she opens them and moves behind her desk, grabbing her purse before coming to stand once again between me and the chair.
“What’s your name darling? Unfortunately, we only had the contact of Dealer, granted not the most creative name but it certainly made our jobs easier.”
The man in the chair grunts around the gag and Harper takes a step closer. “So sorry lovey, I didn’t catch that,” she says, holding her hand up to her ear like she’s hard of hearing.
“Oh, silly me!” exclaims Harper, the manic smile returning to her face and she digs into her bag, pulling out a small cylinder before flipping it around and releasing the hidden blade. “Let me get that for you. I hate feeling like I’m talking to myself.”
She presses the small blade to his cheek and pulls away from his face, the material splitting easily. The knife sharp enough that she barely needed any force.
He opens his mouth to yell or shout, spit or curse, but before a peep can come out, she holds up a finger to his lips, “Shhhh, none of that,” she purrs.
She turns her face to the right, using the blade pressed against his cheek to shift him in the same direction, their views very different.
While Harper turns to look at Wade, the man in her grip is greeted with the barrel of a gun brushing the tip of his nose.
“Quiet now, a scream would be bad, but I doubt you would be able to make too much noise before the bullet is stuck between your eyes,” she whispers to him moving the finger against his lips to press lightly between his brows.
“Silencers are great tools, aren’t they?
” she pauses, straightening back up and pulling the knife from the side of his face.
Not a scratch to his mediocre features, only serving to accentuate her skill with the blade.
“Now, let’s try again. What’s your name?”
Silence.
“Well, that’s disappointing. I was hoping we could get along during this. It feels less personal when I don’t know your name,” she sighs. “And I promise, what’s about to happen is definitely going to feel personal.”
Still silence.
“Fine, let’s call you Bob.” Sadie snorts, and Harper looks up at her over ‘Bob’s’ shoulder. “You don’t like it? I think he looks like a Bob. It’s unassuming, nothing special. Boring name really. Yes, I like Bob. Everyone, this is Bob, our guest for the night.”
Based on the way his bushy eyebrows bunch together, Bob does not like the name Bob.
“So, Bob, let’s discuss the real issue that brought you here. You’ve been selling drugs, and I want to know where you are getting the supply from,” Harper asks, closing the knife and returning it to her purse.
Bob shifts around in the seat, his legs flexing slightly as he tests the ties securing his ankles. His eyes never leaving Harper, weighing his options, not yet satisfied with the reality that he doesn’t have any.
“Which ones, honey?” he retorts, needling her with the term of endearment meant to undermine.
Harper just smirks, “Let’s start with the cocaine, we can get to the others later on.
” She reaches into her bag and holds up the little baggie with the Jester emblem stamped on the outside.
Across from me Sadie shifts in position atop the desk, pulling her legs under her.
I’m not the only one that tracked the movement, Wade staring at Sadie until she nods, letting him know she’s okay for right now.
I can feel my heartbeat pick up looking at the reminder of the mockery for what Harper has created. I take one step closer to the scene before me, halting when I hear a rustling under my shoe and look down to see where it came from.
Plastic sheeting.
I knew she wasn’t expecting tonight to go well, but the contingency on the ground speaks volumes. It could be a scare tactic, a warning to Bob that we are prepared for whatever the outcome is, the result depending entirely on how willing he is to behave.
I don’t know why I’m trying to lie to myself, this isn’t a scare tactic, it’s efficient clean up.
Suddenly, her hesitation at my entry into the room is crystal clear.
Before tonight, she could have passed off anything done in her name as the actions of others.
Maybe she gave a direction, maybe she suggested a tactic, but at the end of the day, it was someone else doing the deed.
She is losing her cover tonight, laying it on the line for my scrutiny.
I think she gets her hands dirty more often than not, but she’s not hiding it from me this time.
I’ve seen worse.
I take another step closer, not interfering, but letting her know I’m here. I’m at her back, always.
“Oh, that little thing? The Jester has a whole court pushing it through the city. Good shit too, want a little taste?” he says with a wink. Cocky little shit. If I hit him just right, I think I can get the whole eye to swell shut.
Harper doesn’t respond, but this time her smile melts away, the corners tight into a thin line. Not happy, not mad, numb.
She walks around him to the desk, putting her purse down, but taking one last item out before she does. I can’t make out what it is, but when she shifts her hand and walks back to Bob, something catches the light, glinting metal gripped between her fingers.
“Bob, do you know the story behind this building?”
“Bitch, I don’t know where we are.”
She ignores him, continuing the story.
“This building used to be a Cigar Club. It was exclusive to high powered men, and men only. It was where backroom deals took place, politicians taking bribes, City officials expediting or revoking permits, it was where businesses thrived, and empires fell.”
She opens her palm to show off the cigar cutter in her hand, placing her thumb and forefinger into the openings at each end.
“I wonder if your Jester was a member,” she looks pointedly at him as she brings her fingers closer together, hearing the metallic snick of the blades passing each other in the small circle.
Bob swallows thickly, watching the blades in her hands as she gives another test clip. “I wouldn’t know, never met the Jester,” he answers.