I leaned back, my gaze never leaving Beau’s quivering form. The air in the room hung heavy with tension, each second ticking by like a bomb about to detonate. Braveheart crossed his arms, the sheer mass of him looming over Beau like a storm cloud about to unleash its fury.
“Juju,” I said, my voice calm but laced with an edge sharper than any blade. “What do you think? Truth or bullshit?”
Juju smirked, flipping open the box to reveal the contents—a screwdriver, plyers, and a glint of something metallic that caught the dim light. “Let’s just say, Beau’s got a hell of a lot of explainin’ to do, boss.”
Braveheart’s shadow grew darker, and the room seemed even smaller.
“Start talkin’, Beau,” Braveheart growled, his voice low but menacing. “Or this is gonna get a lot worse for you.”
“Hit him again, Braveheart.”
“Garland wants the deed to the bar!” Beau shouted, just as Braveheart was about to swing.
“Why?” Braveheart asked.
Beau swallowed hard, his throat moving like he was trying to keep down a mouthful of gravel. “Garland said something about selling it to someone he owes money to. He didn’t tell me much, just that it was important.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he glanced nervously at Juju and Braveheart, who weren’t exactly exuding sympathy.
I let the words hang in the air, the weight of them settling over the room like smoke from a dying fire. “Garland Coltraine’sgot debts. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?” I said, more to myself than to anyone else. “And he thought the deed to my bar would be his golden ticket? Who does he owe?”
Beau licked his lips, his eyes darting like a rabbit staring down a pack of wolves. “I don’t know the guy’s name,” he blurted. “Garland never said. Just that he’s some big-shot investor or mob guy or something. Someone who doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
Juju snorted, glancing at me with an arched brow. “Big-shot investor? Mob guy? Hell of a range there, Beau.” He tossed the screwdriver back into the box with a clatter and leaned against the counter, arms folded. “Let me guess, you didn’t think to ask?”
Beau’s head snapped side to side, a frantic denial. “I swear, man, I didn’t ask. Garland doesn’t like questions, you know? He told me to stay out of it, to just do what I was told and keep my mouth shut.”
Braveheart let out a low growl, the kind that sent shivers crawling up Beau’s spine. “Well, too bad for you, Beau. Your mouth doesn’t get to shut until you give us something useful.”
I stood, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor with a harsh screech that made Beau flinch. “Eustis’s doing twenty-five to life for killing my dad and brother,” I said, pacing slowly in front of him. “And you fucking let his son drag you into his mess, Beau. Not very smart, if you ask me. You think this guy’s gonna care you were just the errand boy? Or that I’m gonna let you go just because you didn’t know what the hell you were stealing?”
Beau’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, no words forming as he stared at me in sheer panic.
“Gator,” Juju said, his tone calm but cutting. “If we want answers, we’ll need to go straight to Garland. Beau here’s just the pawn.”
I stopped pacing and nodded. “You’re right.” Turning to Beau, I jabbed a finger in his direction. “But you—you’re gonna help us find this guy Garland owes. Because if you think for a second that hiding behind that badge you wear is gonna keep you safe, you’re dead wrong.”
Beau’s shoulders slumped, resignation washing over him like a tide. “Alright, alright,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll tell you where to find him. Just... don’t hurt me, man. I didn’t sign up for this.”
Juju chuckled darkly. “Oh, Beau, you signed up the moment you broke the law. Now start talking.”
And, of course, Donut chose that moment to walk back into the bar. The second he took a look at Beau, the squeamish fucker threw up.
“Jesus, Donut!” Thore jumped way back as Donut covered his mouth and ran back into the kitchen, just as Beau bent over and did the same.
“Fucking hell!” I shouted, taking a few steps back myself.
“Looks like Beau is a sympathizer.”
“A what?” Thore growled, grabbing a towel to wipe off his boots.
Sighing, Worm closed the book he was reading and said, “It’s called sympathy vomiting. When someone sees another vomit, they get sick too.”
“You made that shit up,” Juju scoffed.
“Nope.” Worm shook his head. “It’s an actual medical thing.”
“Bullshit,” Braveheart challenged, crossing his arms.
Braveheart’s challenge hung in the air, and Worm gave him a knowing smirk. “You can look it up if you want, but I’m telling you, it’s real. Science doesn’t care about your skepticism, my friend.”
