He sighed softly. "He's no Coach Stanley, but Coach Davis is okay. I mean, he knows his shit. He's tight with Dominic King and Otis Skinner, as far as I can tell. That was the point, right? It was why they wanted Coach Stanley gone. So they could replace him with someone they trusted."
"Exactly," I said. "I'd love to know who else is working with them, but it's not the kind of thing you can come out and ask, you know? The moment I start poking around, they'll wonder why."
"Storm would insist you don't go around asking questions," Frost said. "We're supposed to keep playing along, right?"
"For now," I agreed. "That's what I'll do. Keep my head down and stay out of sight. I just wish…"
"What do you wish?" he asked softly.
"I wish none of us was involved in any of this," I said. "I'd like a nice, quiet, boring life, where I can be busy doing my job and being with my six men. That doesn't seem like too much to ask."
"It's not too much to ask," he said. "I want the same thing. To play football and be with you."
I looked back at him when he clearly left words unsaid. "But you don't mind being dragged into some aspects of this."
"I should, but I don't," he said. "I have to admit, I was disappointed when Ice let that man go. I know he was innocent, more or less, but…"
"You wanted to have some fun with him," I finished for him. Maybe I should have been horrified, but I was used to it by now. Ice could just as easily have kept him there for a while longer to toy with him.
"Having him watched is a better idea," Frost conceded. "If he goes to the people who hired him, we'll know. If we killed him outright, we'd never get that."
"No, we wouldn't," I said. "My brother is wise once in a while." He let the man go, then contacted his partners to organise a tail. The man wouldn't be able to go to the toilet without someone knowing.
"Yeah, he is," Frost agreed. "I've never met anyone like him. He's fascinating, in a scary kind of way. I mean, I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of him. I have a feeling it would hurt."
"It would definitely hurt," I said. "But he'd never do anything to you. If he did, I'd deal with him. Trust me, he wouldn't want that."
"I bet you could be terrifying if you put your mind to it," Frost said. "And now, I'm turned on. Apparently I have a thing for scary people."
"Apparently I do too," I said. "Once I realised you weren't innocent, I saw how scary you could really be. The other guys too. It's kinda hot. Okay, it's very hot." After a beat, I added, "As far as I know, only Jay hasn't killed anyone. Yet."
"Yet," Frost echoed. "He would have killed that guy if he really aimed at you. When we find whoever did it, he'll probably rip his head off. If he can get there before me and everyone else, that is.”
He snapped his fingers. “We could grab on to a part of him and pull in different directions. Like how they used to execute people. Or dispose of them. They’d tie a rope to an ankle or foot, and the other end to one of four horses. Then they'd ride off, tearing the victim apart." He mimed ripping a body to pieces.
I knew what the ‘quartered’ part of hanged, drawn and quartered meant, but he made it sound even more grisly.
"Do you have to sound like you'd enjoy that so much?" I winced.
He lowered his hands. "Sorry. I've always been fascinated with historical torture devices and shit like that. Maybe we could get our own iron maiden. I bet your brother would enjoy that."
"Do I want to know?" I asked. I probably didn't, but the question was out there now.
"It was like a suit of armour, kind of," he said. "It had metal spikes inside. The person would go in and they'd close it, so the spikes impale them all over."
I made a face. "I was right, I didn't want to know. What sort of sick, twisted person came up with that? Oh, right, someone like my brother. You're right, he would enjoy that. I'll let you have that conversation with him."
They could further bond over a mutual love of gratuitous violence.
"Maybe we can turn the basement of this place into a workroom like his," Frost mused. "We could have a bunch ofmediaeval torture devices in there. You wouldn't know where I can pick up an inexpensive rack, would you? The kind you stretch people on."
"I knew that one already," I said. "But no, I don't know where you'd get one of those. That’s another thing you’d have to ask my brother. Otherwise, you might have to get one made."
I didn't think it was the kind of object you could look up on the Internet and order. Although, I might be wrong there. It was, after all, the Internet. If there was a market for it, someone was ready to make it. There could be dozens of the devices all around Australia, each lovingly made by hand.
"You mean you wouldn't mind having one in the basement?" he asked.
"As long as it's soundproof, then have at it," I said.
