Page 63 of Run

Cutter’s face became carefully blank. “True, boss, true.” He hesitated, as though weighing his words. “You asked him about the girl yet?”

“He’s due to report back to me any minute; we’ll see what he says then.” Tommy frowned at the door, impatience beginning to set in. “He was right behind you, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, a few minutes at most.”

There was a rumble of voices in the hallway before the dining room doors opened and Marcus strode in.

“Just a coffee for me,” he told the hovering maid.

Tommy couldn’t remember her name, only that she gave shitty blow jobs. Might be time to get some new staff.

“Been thinking we need to change things up around here,” he told Cutter, his eyes on the hastily retreating woman.

Cutter’s cold gaze followed his. “I’ll deal with it.”

Tommy knew he would. Cutter had been “retiring” his staff for years. Those still useful were sent to a brothel on the continent. Those that weren’t…well, they were retired permanently.

“What you got for me?” he asked as Marcus took a seat farther down the table.

“I’m sure Cutter’s already brought you up to speed.” Marcus lifted his chin at Cutter. “We took over some territory and made sure the other gangs understood their place in the food chain. Nobody’s dead; the message was relayed. I don’t expect any kickback. We made it clear that next time, we wouldn’t leave witnesses.”

Tommy nodded slowly as he toyed with a silver butter knife. “Any word on the girl?” he asked casually, watching his son to see how he reacted to the question.

Nothing about Marcus’ demeanor changed. He seemed relaxed, at ease, maybe a little tired. For a second, Tommy expected Marcus would fill him in. And then he opened his mouth.

“Nothing yet,” he lied.

Cutter stirred beside Tommy.

“Nothing?” Tommy spread his hands in a questioning gesture. “You shake down her connections? Lean on the people important to her?”

“They’ve all gone to ground.” Marcus accepted a cup of coffee from the maid.

Deep inside, the feral beast that drove Tommy uncoiled from its lazy sleep. “Cutter tells me there’re some old people, relatives of one of her friends. Seems like they’d be a good place to apply pressure, make her come to you.”

“Dead end,” Marcus said. “Everybody connected with Elle has been warned to keep their heads down. The only ones still showing their faces in public are the Collins family, and they’re too high profile to touch.”

“Always liked Libby Collins,” Tommy said. “Great actress. A British treasure.”

Nobody replied.

“You sure you haven’t heard anything about the girl?” Tommy pressed.

“No.” Marcus put down his coffee. “She’s in the wind. But don’t worry; I’ve got everybody out looking for her. She can’t hide forever.”

“That’s my boy.” Tommy stood and casually fastened the buttons on his waistcoat. “I got an appointment. Walk me out?” he said to Cutter.

Cutter pushed back his chair and followed Tommy. As he reached his son, Tommy jerked his head to the two men on the door, signaling for them to come forward. Then he placed his hand on Marcus’ shoulder. “Glad you’ve got things in hand.”

His words were a signal. Hearing them, the guards grabbed Marcus’ arms and pressed his palms to the table in front of him.

“What the fuck?” Marcus spat out, pushing back in his chair as he struggled against the two men holding him. “Tommy? What the hell are you doing?”

The men had a foot each wedged against the chair’s back legs, keeping him in place. Trapping him against the table. Tommy took the knife Cutter held out to him and leaned over his son. With one powerful swing, he stabbed it through the back of Marcus’ hand, wedging it deep into the table. Marcus roared just as Cutter did the same to his other hand. Now he was pinned, unable to reach for his gun.

While Tommy turned to perch beside his boy, one of his men grabbed Marcus’ hair to hold his head up, making him look his father in the eye. The other soldier made sure the chair didn’t move an inch—not that Marcus was pushing against it anymore. Cutter stood close, watching Marcus’ every move while repeatedly tossing his knife in the air, making it spin with each throw.

Casually, Tommy reached down and helped himself to Marcus’ coffee. He sipped it before shuddering. “Not enough sugar. Now, let’s start again.” He placed the cup back on the table. “Where’s the girl?”