Page 13 of Our Tricks

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Ken asked.

“Oh, who I am doesn’t matter. I’m just a consultant,” I answered, waving off his concern. “So how long have you been with the company?”

Ken sighed, and for the first time, shifted in his chair. “Eleven. No, sorry, not until next month. It’s been ten years, and I started at an entry-level position until two years ago when I became part of management. I head the—”

“That’s all I need,” I told him, cutting him off once again. “It’s obvious that you’re in management, and we’re only interviewing those in such a position, so no need to share that with us.”

Daniel and Charles took turns going back and forth with questions while I jotted down random things at various times, making contemplative noises just to make Ken feel uncomfortable. When I was quite certain this was all an act and everything that came out of Ken’s mouth was a lie, I set down my pen, laced my hands in front of me, and leaned forward.

“Now Ken, or is it Kent?” I questioned, making his eyes widen ever so slightly. “My bet is it’s neither of those but something close so it’s not too far from your real name. Help you to remember it better and respond faster when at least the first part of the name is right.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Ken spluttered, trying to act indignant.

Nodding my head, I smiled. “Good, very good. You know I have a friend, scratch that, he’s more like a father-in-law now, I suppose. He’s a world-class con man, and he’s taught me a lot about reading people. You want to know what I see when I read you?” I inquired.

Ken scowled. “This is utter nonsense. Who the hell are you?”

“As I said, who I am isn’t important. No, the person who should be answering that question is you. Tell me, and be honest, or you’re not going to like where this is headed. Tell me who you really are,” I ordered.

“I’ve already told you who I am, not to mention I told them all this before you joined us. What in the world makes you believe I’m anything other than what I’ve claimed to be?” Ken snapped, his tone holding genuine irritation and the beginning of anger.

Turning to the other two men, I cocked my head. “You don’t happen to have any zip ties on you, do you?”

Not answering with words, Charlie pulled out a few from his pocket and handed them over. I got up and so did Daniel, who placed both hands on Ken’s shoulders, holding him in place as I grabbed one wrist and strapped it to the armrest. Figuring out what we were doing, Ken started to thrash.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Do you have any idea who I am?” he demanded.

I looked him in the eye as I cinched the other wrist to the chair. “Of course I do. You told me already. Problem is I don’t believe you, and by your response just now, I think I’m right not to trust a word out of your lying mouth.”

“You have no right to do this to me,” Ken snapped.

Sitting on the table, I rested my elbows on my knees then perched my chin in my hands so I was at eye level with him. “Actually, that’s where you’re wrong. I’ve been given all the authority I need to wipe this floor with your ass if I so choose. The new boss you have and I happen to be pretty good friends, and he asked me to take a look at some of his people. See, he doesn’t think everyone is going to play nice in the new sandbox, and I have to agree with him.”

Ken narrowed his eyes at me, taking in my appearance as if he was finally paying attention to the real stakes happening in this room. His calculating eyes landed on my ring the guys gave me that was the same as my calling card when I laid claim to a kill. Ken’s eyes went wide for a moment, then his whole persona fell away, and he turned emotionless as if he was an Etch A Sketch someone cleared off.

“Now we’re talkin’,” I muttered. “So are you going to tell me who you really are? Or do we need to do this the messy way? My money is on you making me torture you to get what I want.” Tapping my chin, I debated whether it was okay for me to do that here or if I should get him someplace more equipped to deal with that type of thing.

It seems my choice was made for me when there was a knock on the door, and I saw Cam’s face in the window holding up a phone.

“Looks like you’ve been saved by a phone call. Sit tight, Kenny boy,” I said, hopping off the table and giving him a few heavy-handed smacks on the cheek. “He goes nowhere,” I ordered the two men looking at me in amazement, then nodded.

Stepping out, Cam handed me his phone, and I saw it was Wes. “Yo, what’s up, super sleuth?”

There was a pause on the other line. “Who put you in such a good mood?”

“Oh, you know I get like this before I have to torture someone. This guy is gonna be fun too. I think he’s a professional,” I shared.

“Funny you should say that…” Wes hedged. “You have time to come up to the top floor and look at something?”

“Will it help me with what I’m dealing with?” I questioned.

“You could say that,” Wes answered noncommittally.

“Just tell her, and she’ll come running the second you mention a torture room,” Ghost yelled in the background.

I frowned at hearing his voice. “Was that Ghost, or am I hearing things?”

“I ran into some trouble, and he had the equipment I needed,” Wes explained in a bitter voice.