“I’ll give you a drink and ten minutes. Then you’re out.”
Connor responded with a thumbs up. While Thomas retreated to the kitchenette, Connor licked the tip of his cigar and lit it. A thick cloud of smoke embraced him when Thomas returned, enraged.
“No! You will not defile this flat.”
Connor glanced about the room and realized what he missed upon entry. The bastard did not own a snuffer. Oh, well. He pulled extra hard on the cigar.
“I’ll take that drink. Maybe something for the ash?”
Thomas started toward Connor as if he might try to swipe the cigar. Connor leaned back in the couch and crossed his legs. He added a few extra puffs to accelerate the ash quotient. Thomas stopped short, handed his guest the liquor, and retreated to the kitchenette.
Connor took a sip.
Hmm. Hansen rum. Hot, spicy. A gut-wrencher. Nice.
“My compliments,” he said as Thomas returned with an empty. “You have a fine palette for the classics. Not that you’re good for much else.”
Thomas started for the door.
“That’s it. You’re gone, Stallion. And I thought your brother was a smug sonofabitch.”
“I’m happy right here, thanks. Have a seat, bruv. We got a few matters to settle.”
Thomas flipped open his pom. Connor decided the perfect moment arrived to cut Thomas down to size.
“Nexus.”
His host paused for a beat.
“What did you say?”
“Nexus. Your employer of the past nine years. Contact anyone, and I’ll tell them who you are. Assassin, trafficker, fixer. You worked hard to whitewash your past. Nice job clearing a Shadow Gambit profile.” He pointed to the chair. “Sit your ass down, Thomas.”
Connor predicted all his questions. But Connor wasn’t here to be interrogated. Damn sure not by this asshole.
Thomas did as requested.
“It’s simple,” Connor said. “I work for him, too. Only a few months, but with a key difference. I met the man in person. Sat in his gorgeous office and smoked a cigar almost as fine as this one. While I was there, he showed me the future. He enlightened me to the history of his business and offered me a job.
“And then he told me about you. The sheer odds: Someone who used to live in my family’s building when we were kids. Now we work for the same man, born a hundred ninety light-years away. What do you think about that, Thomas?”
Connor added to the ash quotient while Thomas recoiled in stunned silence. Did Connor see fear? Or just good old fashioned confusion? Either way, the bully’s veneer vanished, replaced by a man who suddenly seemed a tad world-weary.
Nice.
“You’re full of shit, Stallion.”
The response struck Connor as lazy, the product of someone who never knew what it felt like to be boxed into a corner.
Time to add the cherry on top.
Connor retrieved his pom.
“Like you, I own a phantom drill. You received yours by post from Pietra Ornhaus, who also works for Nexus. She sent it to you the morning of the MR-44 vote with instructions to penetrate the Harmony Spaceport’s security. Not long after, the SI Director’s ship exploded.”
He could have stopped there. Thomas needed no more proof. But oh, the rest was so good.
“You wanted to take credit, bruv, but Nexus was only testing you. Devonshire’s own people tried to kill her. She knew too much about Requiem and had to be removed. They botched it, but she won’t be a problem for us going forward. It’ll all be over soon.”
“Us?”
Yep, he’s clueless to the big picture. So typical of people who put their own obsessions first.
“Nexus liked you for a while. He wanted to bring you into the inner circle, but you never overcame one crippling flaw.”
“I don’t ...” Thomas finished the last of his drink and set down the glass with a shaky hand. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Stallion. Why are you actually here?”
He’d never admit the truth unless Connor spelled it out. Even then, rot like Thomas Quinlan wasn’t likely to concede.
“It was me and my brother,” Connor said. “You blamed us for everything that happened after the war. Your parents accepted two Chancellor rats into their home and rejected their only child. They knew he was an animal. Ain’t that right, Thomas?”
Thomas flew out of his seat but stumbled as if dizzy. Or maybe he knew better than to come after a younger, bigger man.
“Cudfrucking Stallions. Get out. Now.”
“Or what? You’ll have your way with me? Take a good look, bruv. Not at my muscles, which are an amazing work of art. Nah. Right here.” Connor pointed to his own eyes. “See me. You know what I am. You used to be, too, until you lost your touch.”
Any bravado left in Thomas disappeared. His cheeks fell as he backed away.