Blood Line (A Tom Rollins Thriller Book 1) by Paul Heatley (book recommendations based on other books .txt) 📗

partying mood lately. Not with what’s happened to your brother and his buddies. And now Ronald.”

This is it. This is the moment they find out. Michael and Harry both watch Steve closely, his reaction to this.

Steve stops looking around, turns his attention back to them both, his eyes narrowed. “Ronald? What’s wrong with Ronald?”

“He’s dead, Steve,” Michael says.

“Dead? What? When?”

“What do you know about it already?”

Steve blinks. “This is the first I’m hearing anything about it.”

Michael and Harry exchange looks. “You sure about that?” Harry says.

“What do you mean? Of course I’m sure. I think I’d know if I’d heard that Ronald had died. How’d it happen? When?”

“Same people who killed your brother, we figure,” Michael says.

“Ron was killed?” Steve says.

Harry watches him. “Yeah,” he says. Steve is playing it good. He looks suitably shocked. But then, he always has. How long was he fooling his brother for? Harry doesn’t believe he didn’t know anything about Ronald or any of it. About Anthony. He can’t believe him, because there’s no other explanation. There can’t be anyone else responsible from within their own ranks. “Tortured to death.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve says.

“You wanna know how?”

“Not particularly.”

“Why not? You ain’t got the stomach for it? You don’t think you oughtta hear about how one of your brothers was murdered on his own kitchen table?”

Steve grits his teeth.

“Tell him how it happened, Harry,” Michael says. “You found him. Tell him what you saw. Tell him how long it must’ve gone on for. Tell him how Ronald must’ve suffered.”

“Waterboarded,” Harry says. “You know what that is?”

“I know what it is,” Steve says.

“That’s what was done to him,” Harry says. “They tied him down to the table, they stuck a wet rag in his mouth and over his face, and they poured water until he drowned. You imagine that? Drowning on dry land. Air all around you, but you can’t get a single lungful of it.”

Steve grimaces.

“Now, what do you think they were trying to find out from him that they had to torture him in such an extreme way?”

Steve looks confused. Holds out his hands. “I don’t know,” he says.

Harry grunts. “’Cause, goddamn, that’s a hell of a way to do someone in, ain’t it? Shit, makes you wonder how long it went on for, don’t it? Could’ve been hours. You imagine that? Like being dragged underwater for hours on end, you don’t know how long it’s gonna go on for, you can’t get a breath, and all the while your lungs are burning, you’re panicking, you’re all alone in the world, knowing ain’t no one gonna come help you. I don’t wanna know how that must’ve felt.”

Steve nods his head, agreeing.

“Like, whoever did it to him, it was personal to them,” Harry says. “Y’know? They wanted him to hurt. Wanted him to suffer. They had fun with it. They were enjoying themselves. So what’s their vendetta? You got any ideas?”

Steve has to clear his throat to speak. “I’d reckon, uh, I’d reckon it’s probably something to do with Anthony. Right? That’s all it could be.”

“Same as with your brother.”

“They’ve got to be connected,” Steve says.

“That’s right,” Harry says. “They gotta be. No other explanation. See, this is the thing. You know how I know they were doing it for fun?”

“No?”

“’Cause they sure as hell weren’t doing it for information.”

“How’d you reckon that?”

“Only thing they could ask is where we are. Where the rest of the Arm are, where we live, hang out, that kinda thing. They weren’t gonna be asking that. They didn’t need to. Right? ’Cause if they wanted to know that, all they had to do was talk to you. Ain’t that right, Steve?”

Steve looks like he’s been slapped. He looks between them both. At the top of the stairs, the door leading into the kitchen is closed suddenly. It locks.

Michael pops his knuckles.

“What’re you, what’re you trying to say?” Steve says.

“Ain’t trying to say nothin’,” Harry says. “We’re telling you what we know. Now you’re gonna tell us what you know. Who are they?”

Steve has gone pale. All the color has drained out of him. He sways a little on his feet, light-headed. “I, uh … I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Michael shakes his head. “Time’s up on that excuse, Steve,” he says. “We know. We fucking know. Now just come on out and tell us everything you got before this situation turns real nasty for you.”

“I swear to you,” Steve says. “I don’t know what you’re asking me about. I’m loyal. I’m loyal. This is my life, always has been.”

“It was your brother’s life,” Michael says. “He just dragged you along for the ride, and you never once looked happy to be on it.”

“I wouldn’t have my brother killed,” Steve says. “You gotta understand how ridiculous that sounds. I wouldn’t do that. I would never do that. I loved Peter. I loved him. I would never do that to him.”

“What about Ronald?” Harry says. “You love him? He was your brother, too. Same as all those guys killed with Peter. Same as me and Michael here. We’re your brothers. You love us, too?”

“Yes!”

“And you wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt us, right?”

“No, no, of course not.”

Harry takes a step forward. Steve takes a step back. He’s scared. His mask is slipping. Harry can see right through him, now. He knows Michael can, too. He knows they’re both feeling the same thing. He knows they’re both ready to break this little boy. This traitorous little piece of shit.

“You hurt us by lying, Steve,” he says. “You hurt us when you send Anthony’s buddies after us. But it don’t have to be that way. You can come clean. You can tell us all you know. You do that, we’ll go easy on you.”

“Just don’t keep lying to us,” Michael says.

“That’s right,” Harry says. “Don’t lie to us again, boy.”

Steve backs up, but he doesn’t have far to go. He hits the wall. He looks left and right. The only way out is