Page 62 of The Thief

“Are you sure?” Adam replied, keeping his knife right where it was. “I’d hate to have to start all over again. I was just getting warmed up.” Then he whipped his head around to glare at Anton. “You’d better talk, and make sure it’s fucking worth it, or it’ll be more than his dick you’ll be choking on.”

Anton hung his head, muttering words we couldn’t hear, but Colton went behind him, grabbed a fistful of hair and forced his head back.

“If you’re gonna rat,” Colton sneered in his ear. “At least do it with a bit of fucking backbone... if you have any left, that is.”

Anton gritted his teeth, swallowed, and then said, “Con Hinds. That’s who you’re looking for. But you won’t find him. He left days ago. Headed to Portugal. And I have no idea where he’s hiding out over there.”

“What number was he?” I asked, and Anton took a moment before answering, “Three.”

“We need an address,” Adam added, but Anton just shook his head.

“I already told you; I don’t know where he’s hiding overthere.”

“But he must have family,” I pressed, knowing I needed to get as much out of him as I could now that he was talking.

“He lives in Minchum. Crosby Close. But that’s all I know. I swear.”

“And The Ghost?” I asked, wanting to get that golden nugget.

“I don’t know.”

“Not good enough!” Adam barked, moving his knife back to Rory’s dick and slicing slowly again, making Rory hiss and thrash.

“My phone!” Anton screamed, and Adam stopped to let him speak. “I have his number in my phone. That’s the only way I know how to contact him. I don’t have a name, an address, nothing. The only way we’ve ever contacted him was through the phone.”

Rory slumped in his restraints, his head hanging forward as Adam stepped away.

He turned to look at Devon, who took a phone from his pocket and snapped, “Code?”

“Five, six, five, nine,” Anton replied in defeat.

Devon tapped the numbers in then started to scroll through Anton’s phone.

“What name is he saved as? Because there’s no Ghost down here.”

“Just the letter D,” Anton said.

Devon glanced to Will, and without needing words, he walked over to the corner of the room, took some duct tape from a bag and sauntered back to where Anton and Rory were chained, a swagger in his step as went. Then he pulled the tapefree and began to tape up their mouths, starting with Rory and then moving to Anton. Colton stood beside him, making sure they kept their mouths shut and didn’t make things difficult.

“Stand back, unless you want to be in the shot,” Devon barked, and we stepped away from the chained-up brothers as we heard the sound of the phone ringing out on speaker. After a few rings, it was answered, but at first, no one spoke. Seconds ticked by and then a gruff voice rasped, “Why the fuck are you ringing? This better be fucking good.”

“Oh, it’s good,” Devon replied, moving the phone from the floor to point it at Rory and Anton. “It’s fucking amazing.”

Devon was using facetime to show The Ghost what was happening, and as he moved closer to get a good shot of them both, he snarled, “You’re next,Number One. We’re coming for you.”

The phone went dead. He’d cut us off. But it didn’t matter.

He’d heard us.

He’d seen what was in his future.

He’d got the message loud and clear.

“I don’t think he’s gonna want to work with you again.” Devon smirked as he took the sim card from the phone, snapped it, and then threw the phone on the floor, smashing the screen and using his boot to finish the job.

“We need to wrap this up,” Adam stated. “And then we need to send these two as a message.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.