Page 59 of Chill

Pickman smiled. “You’ve cleaned me out, my friend. Perhaps another night.”

Locke stood with a cold smile and sent the table flying. “Leave, all of you, apart from Pickman.” The other players didn’t argue but left immediately, including the dealer.

“What is this, Locke?” Pickman demanded, remaining in his seat. His two guards stepped forward, and Tiny and I met them. They didn’t move further.

“You’ve got a tell, were you aware?” Locke asked.

“That’s news to me,” Pickman replied.

“Nothing obvious like a twitch or a clenched jaw; it’s subtle. So, if I ask, do you know about the underground fights…? Ah, there it is. Start talking and don’t bother lying. Pickman, you hold eye contact for five seconds and then flick to your left.”

“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage…” Pickman began, and Locke exploded out of his seat. He grabbed Pickman by the throat and dragged him up. Before Pickman could respond, Locke stabbed him in the cheek with an ice pick.

“You murdered a kid under the Underground’s protection. You think you’re fuckin’ walking away from that?” Locke screamed.

Pickman had paled. Locke shoved the makeshift weapon deeper. “I want to know about the fights.”

“I don’t—”

In one smooth movement, Locke picked Pickman up and slammed him to the floor.

“Fucker should have been a wrestler with moves like that,” Tiny muttered.

“Move, and you’re dead,” I warned the guards as they stepped forward.

Locke glanced up and yanked a gun out. Seconds later, they both hit the ground with a bullet in the brain.

Yup. Psycho.

“Get Greg,” he ordered. Tiny nodded and left me to cover Locke’s back. Not that he needed it.

“How much do you want?” Pickman demanded as blood ran down his face.

“Think you can buy your way out of this?” Locke cocked his head and looked fuckin’ eerie.

“It’s business, Locke. Call your boss before you make a bad error.”

“Problem. I don’t work for Salisbury.” Locke grinned. There it was. The confirmation of what I’d figured out. They were partners; Salisbury ruled, but they had equal status.

“You went rogue? I can create a vacancy,” Pickman offered. “I can give you more than Salisbury.”

“There’s only one way out of our world, and I ain’t six feet under,” Locke retorted.

“I don’t understand.” Pickman spat blood.

“No. Scum like you doesn’t comprehend loyalty.” Locke pressed his foot on Pickman’s throat and then stood on it for two seconds, making him choke.

“Crush it, and he can’t tell us what we want to know,” I pointed out.

With a growl, Locke snapped and grabbed Pickman. He dragged him up and stabbed him several times with the pick.

He grinned in Pickman’s pained face and licked the blade. Yup, fuckin’ psycho.

“Who is running the ring?”

“It’s just business, Locke!” Pickman cried in fear. His confidence was ebbing, but he’d not accepted he was going to die. Locke knocked Pickman down, stood a chair over his chest, and sat down.

The pressure made Pickman gasp, struggling to breathe.