Page 162 of Hurt

“Sit,” Roland said sharply. It sounded like a command and Quinn flinched with the severity of it. He pulled the chair out and took a seat, crossing his hands in front of him.

When Roland didn’t say anything else, Quinn picked up a spoon and began nervously fidgeting with it.

“I must say, we were surprised to hear about the Vega Cabals demise. Not disheartened, of course, our loyalty has always been to White Sand Mesa and the Weavers. We only wish you would have called on us to help.”

Elijah watched his eyes dart to the sides, looking around for anything to break the tension. He would have found the cowering man to be distasteful even if he didn’t know what he did.

“Is that so?” Roland asked as he reached for his glass of water. His rings clinked against the glass and Quinn swallowed thickly as he eyed the jewelry.

“Yes, yes. As I said, we have always been allies. To hear you almost lost someone so important to you. A musician, isn’t she?”

Amber eyes stared at Quinn over the rim of the glass in his hands. Elijah could tell by the mild twitch in Roland’s eyebrow that he was irritated.

Not sensing the danger he was in, Quinn continued.

“We were saddened to hear of your brother’s seclusion. He’s been greatly missed. How is he doing?”

Elijah thought it was like watching a gazelle walking around in the tall grass, completely unaware they were getting closer and closer to the lion stalking them. Blissfully ignorant.

“…the rumors have been unclear, but one can only imagine the kind of pain he’s been experiencing. What with the massacre happening right under his nose and then the whole Sun Down debacle.”

Elijah hoped the restaurant had a good way to get blood out of the tablecloth.

His boss set the glass down with a surprising amount of restraint. He had not said anything, but the intensity of his gaze had increased.

“You talk too much,” Roland finally said.

Quinn’s jaw snapped shut audibly.

“Your words are as meaningless as your loyalty,” he continued, still leaning back in his chair perfectly relaxed. “Luther helped you consolidate power and in return you gave him access to other territories under the guise of working for the Southern Rockies. Thanks to you, he gathered information vital to his attempts to overthrow the Weavers.”

Quinn blanched and dropped the spoon he was playing with. “That’s…that’s ridiculous!!”

Elijah rolled his eyes. Just once he would like these guys to own up to it. Just once.

“You have Weaver blood on your hands.”

Quinn knew those words were the same as an order of execution. “Wh…where is your proof? You cannot condemn me without proof!”

“I can’t?” Roland raised an eyebrow. “Who is going to stop me?”

Quinn slammed his hands on the table and stood up so quickly his chair fell backwards. “You think you can just spout false accusations and I will take it lying down?”

Elijah moved before he could finish shouting. Two knives silently left his hands, embedding themselves in the necks of his bodyguards before Quinn knew what was happening.

“Lying down or standing up, it doesn’t matter,” Roland continued.

Quinn began to tremble, but he was holding on to his indignant rage. “You think you can do this? Wait until word spreads. You will be nothing without the cooperation of the other gangs.”

Jamie breezed into the room as he finished talking. He sauntered across the elegant dining room toward the table. His jacket open and the top four buttons of his shirt undone. He looked every inch the roguish bastard he was. He righted Quinn’s chair.

Slamming a hand on Quinn’s shoulder he pushed him to sit down. His other hand extended and opened.

Four bloody misshapen rounds clinked to the ceramic plate. “You’ve got to hire better assassins, my guy.”

Quinn stared at the bullets rattling around on his plate. They left bloody streaks across the glossy surface.

“Four guys? Really? You thought you could surround us with six guys? Total? That’s just insulting,” Jamie continued, leaning on Quinn’s shoulder.