Page 50 of Cobra
“For him.”
Blaze mutters behind me, “Well, at least we’re all communicating.”
Logan cuts him a look.
Blaze lifts both hands. “Sorry. Tension reflex.”
Joker’s smile grows a fraction.
“Let’s start,” Logan says.
I walk into the room.
The man in the chair tries to lift his head, but his neck is stiff and his breathing catches when he sees me. He remembers the street. Remembers the door. Remembers the gun falling out of his hand. Remembers enough.
I stop in front of him.No posture. No threats. No show. I don’t need to convince him I can hurt him. I already did. “Who paid you?”
His tongue moves over split lips. “I don’t know.”
Hammer moves first. No warning. He drives his fist into the man’s ribs, short and brutal, not wild enough to break everything at once, controlled enough to make sure the pain stays useful. The man jerks against the restraints with a strangled sound.
I wait until he can breathe again. “Who paid you?”
“I said I don’t know.”
Joker pushes off the wall. The room gets colder. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t speak. Just crosses behind the chair, slow enough that the man can hear every step but can’t turn to watch him fully. That’s the point. Men fear what they can’t track more than what they can see. Joker leans down near his ear. “You sure?” he asks softly.
The man shudders.
Blaze’s humor is gone now. He stands near the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight. Even he understands this isn’t a room for jokes, not unless they’re the kind that make the blood drain out of someone’s face.
“I don’t know his name,” the man says, faster now. “Payments come through drops.”
“What drops?” Logan asks.
“Cash. Sometimes wire. Different names.”
“Who gives the job?” Shadow asks.
The man’s eye flicks toward him.
Wrong choice.
Hammer hits him again.
The chair legs scrape against concrete, but the bolts hold. The man coughs, spitting blood onto his shirt.
I wait.
Patience is part of it.
A man will fill silence if he thinks pain is waiting on the other side. “Scout,” he gasps. That word sits in the room.
Logan’s head tilts slightly. “Say that again.”
“There’s a scout,” the man says, breath breaking. “He finds them. Or he confirms them. Depends on the request.”
Request.
