Page 100 of Red Marked

“How much did you make in the deal? Can we disclose that?” Flint asks.

His eyes go wide. “No…no, you can’t. That’s private.”

“So.” I tap the pen against the notebook. “You can’t give us much. We need facts for our piece, Tank. Is there anything more you can give us?”

“No.”

“Are you sure you even sold an app, Tank?” Flint asks.

“Yes…of course. That’s how it happened,” he growls. “What are you insinuating?”

“Nothing. I have to ask, that’s all.” Flint smiles. There’s no humor in it.

“That’s all I have for you. I don’t know what you people want from me.” He sounds annoyed.

Flint stands. “Enough with the bullshit.”

Tank’s eyes flare, and he stands too. “What are⁠—?”

“Where did the money come from, Tank?” Flint asks. There is a hard edge to his voice.

“I think we’re done.” Tank points at the door. “Time for you two to leave. Don’t send a photographer. Fuck that!”

Flint punches him in the face with a lightning-quick right hook, and Tank’s head snaps sideways. Blood sprays from his nose. Flint sidesteps the mess.

For a second, nobody moves.

Then Tank roars and charges.

He gets Flint around the middle and drives him into the wall hard enough that a framed photograph drops off its hook and shatters. I’m on my feet with the notebook still in my hand. I scramble out of the way.

Flint brings his elbow down on the back of Tank’s neck twice, hooks his leg, and they come off the wall together. Tank swings, missing Flint, who has already moved out of the way.

He puts two fast punches into Tank’s side, then steps back out of range.

Flint is big and strong, but Tank is bigger. He’s also slow and cumbersome. Flint looks like he’s dancing circles around the male. It’s impressive to watch.

Tank swings again. Of course, it’s wild and slow, but it packs power. Flint catches the arm, turns his hips, and Tank goes over the coffee table. Glass explodes across the rug.

He gets to his hands and knees, shaking his head. He’s bleeding from several gashes. They’re superficial.

“Stay down,” Flint says.

Tank doesn’t listen. He’s halfway up when Flint kicks his legs out from under him, and he lands on his back with a grunt that empties his lungs.

“Tell me what you know,” Flint says, sounding calm. He isn’t even out of breath.

“Go to hell, you fucker!”

Flint kicks him in the ribs.

“What happened that day?”

“Screw you!” Tank snarls.

Flint kicks him again, and there’s a crack, and Tank screams. The skin along the male’s forearms ripples. Scales push up under it, and his claws start to lengthen.

Flint drops a knee onto his throat.