“Ah, look who decided to grace us with his presence,” Juju drawled, his voice lazily unimpressed as he tossed his bag of bones onto the counter and leaned forward. “You gonna deal with this, Gator? Or should we keep glaring until he spontaneously combusts from shame?”
Pointing at the fucker in the chair, I sneered, “He’s the thief?”
The figure in the chair flinched slightly, though their expression remained defiant, even as Braveheart closed ranks around him like a predator circling its prey. I strode forward, my boots thudding against the wooden floor, the sound echoing in the tense silence.
“Well, he ain’t Santa Claus,” Donut muttered, wiping powdered sugar off his chest. “Fucker didn’t bring me what I asked for.”
Tapping my uncle on the back, he got up, giving me his chair. Taking a seat, I shook my head. “Gotta admit, when Juju called me and told me he found someone, I wasn’t expecting you, Beau.”
“I’m an officer of the law. I can have all of you arrested for kidnapping!” the man sneered, his eyes wild with fright.
Yeah, Beau was two seconds away from pissing his pants.
Fucker wasn’t calling anyone.
“Tell me, Beau. You know anything about a theft out at Crawley Scrap Metal last week?”
The man gulped and shook his head.
I leaned back in the chair, letting the weight of my presence settle heavily on Beau’s already fragile nerves. “See, Beau, I’ve got a problem,” I began, my tone almost conversational, though the undercurrent of steel was unmistakable. “Crawley Scrap Metal doesn’t just lose merchandise without someone sticking their grubby hands where they shouldn’t. And Juju here”—I motioned lazily toward him—“tends to have a nose for sniffing out trouble. Funny how that nose led him straight to you.”
Beau licked his lips, his gaze darting from one member of the crew to the next. Braveheart cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and deliberate, while Donut leaned against the counter, munching on another pastry like this was his evening entertainment.
“Look, I don’t know anything about your damn scrapyard,” Beau stammered, his voice cracking just enough to betray the lie he was trying to sell. “I’ve got no reason to—”
“To what? Steal from me?” I cut him off, leaning forward so he could feel just how close I was to snapping his thin thread of bravado. “Here’s the thing, Beau. No one, and I mean no one, lays a hand on what’s mine and walks away without consequences. So, I’ll ask you one last time. What do you know about my missing shipment?”
He opened his mouth to protest again, but the words caught in his throat when Juju slapped a battered metal box onto the counter. It clattered loudly, the unmistakable jangle of its contents filling the room. “Recognize this?” Juju asked with an exaggerated smirk, flipping the lid open to reveal a collection of odd trinkets and tools. “Found it tucked away in your trunk. Thought it looked familiar.”
Beau’s face drained of color, and for a moment, the room was silent save for the faint creak of the old wooden floorboards under Braveheart’s shifting weight. The man’s defiance faltered, replaced by the creeping realization that he was trapped.
“Now,” I said, my voice low but firm, “you’ve got two choices. You can start talking and maybe salvage what’s left of your dignity. Or”—I gestured toward Braveheart, who cracked his neck with a menacing grin—“we can have a more... persuasive conversation. Your call, Beau.”
The man’s lips trembled, and as he seemed on the verge of cracking, Juju leaned in to whisper, “Tick tock, pal. Gator’s patience only goes so far.”
Looking at my watch, I said, “Donut, you’ve got a package to deliver to my auntie Glorianna’s.”
“Yep,” the man said, jumping to his feet and sliding into his flip-flops. “On my way now, boss.”
“Take extra special care of my package, Donut.” I smirked, and Donut grinned happily.
“Consider the package pampered, boss.”
The second Donut was gone, I smiled. “Now that the squeamish fainter is gone, we can get started. Anythin’ you wanna say, Beau?”
“Fuck you, Gator.”
I chuckled, getting up from the chair, placing it back under the table. “He’s all yours, Braveheart.”
As Braveheart stepped forward, his presence alone casting a shadow over the room, Beau’s bravado evaporated entirely. The metallic clang of Juju’s box remained a sharp reminder of the evidence laid bare. Beau’s eyes darted to the door, but Juju blocked his escape route with a sly grin that promised there was no running this time.
“You think you’re tough, Beau?” Braveheart asked, his voice a rumble that seemed to shake the walls themselves. “Let’s see how tough you are when you’re not hiding behind lies.”
Beau’s lips parted, desperate words stumbling out. “Look, I didn’t mean for things to go this far! I-I didn’t know it was yours!” His hands trembled as he gestured toward the box. “I swear, Gator. My cousin Garland just told me where to find it!”
“Garland Coltraine? Eustis’s son?” I asked, my head shifting to my Uncle Sixx, who was already striding out the back door of the bar. Turning back to Beau, I asked, “What the hell did Garland tell you to steal, and why did you take my shipment?”
Beau hesitated, his face pale and drawn, as if the weight of Garland’s name alone had squeezed every ounce of defiance from his spirit. “I-I got scared, okay,” he stammered, his voice trembling. “Those dogs you’ve got guarding the place are mean as hell. When I couldn’t find what Garland wanted, he told me to take something. So I hauled off the big box. Didn’t knowwhat was in it. Figured ’cause it was heavy as hell, it was worth something. Please, Gator, that’s all I know!”
