He could only have imagined what the inside of Cane’s office looked like. He’d pictured blood splatters for carpeting and guns as wallpaper. Instead, the place was…clean. There was a potted plant in the corner and organizers on the desk and motivational posters hung up with ‘Keep Hanging in There’ scrawled across them.
Hart noticed his staring and smiled proudly as he shut the door behind Liam, dulling the music and sounds from the ring. “I helped clean the place up so it’s a more productive workspace.”
“I’m sure Cane just loves it,” Liam said, darting a look at him.
Cane had settled into his worn leather chair, boots up on a large, dark desk and a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He took a drag and blew it out. “There were some compromises made.”
“I let you keep the chair and desk,” Hart said.
“Mmm, I don’t remember you putting up much of a fight. You and this chair and desk have a long history together,” Cane purred.
Hart flushed pink and so did Liam.
Hart turned to face him and said hastily, “Don’t listen to him. Now, what did you need? Fix would kill me if I let you go without checking you’re okay. Is your arm sore? O’Malley is a brute. We should have banned him before he could start trouble.”
At the mention of Fix’s name Liam straightened, everything else becoming white noise as a jolt of electricity passed through him. “Fix mentioned me to you?”
Hart stopped his fussing and paused. “Of course. He’s been quite concerned about you ever since he first met you. He’s very thoughtful in that way, you know. And kind. He has many positive attributes. He’d make an ideal boyfriend for someone. Objectively speaking.”
Cane snorted and Liam wanted to crawl under a rock.
It had no tact at all. It was a boat with a neon sign ramming through a building with a speaker blaring, ‘DATE FIX’ on repeat.
“Smooth, sweetheart,” Cane said.
“I was speaking in hypotheticals, of course,” Hart told Cane, moving around to perch on the edge of his desk. Cane offered him the cigarette and Hart took an elegant drag before handing it back. “Except for the caring part. If you want a more comprehensive list of his achievements in life, I just so happen to have one on me though.”
He began rummaging in his pockets again and Liam hated to admit he was actually eager to learn anything about Fix, no matter how small.
“How about we cut to the chase here instead,” Cane broke in in a dry voice that sucked all the air and comfort from the room. “I have things to do tonight that don’t include making small talk with a doll with an agenda. What are you really here for?”
Liam froze, eyes flicking to Cane to find him staring holes through him.
“Cane.” Hart’s voice was a reprimand.
Cane didn’t fold this time, instead he held Liam’s eyes without blinking, like he was reading him like a book. Liam couldn’t look away.
“You pulled up my information.”
Cane hummed, taking another drag on his cigarette, showing no hint he cared and no hint what he knew. Liam’s anger and fear grew.
“You have a problem with that?”
“Wouldn’t you?” Liam said.
Cane smirked around the butt of the cigarette. “My information is a matter of public record, doll.”
“Mine is not. And I would have liked to keep it that way.” Liam ground his back teeth. “You had no right to dig into me.”
“Take that up with Big Boy. I simply provided a service,” Cane said.
“He was worried about you,” Hart interjected in defense of Fix. “He would never have invaded your privacy if he didn’t feel it was necessary. Fix isn’t like that.”
“I know,” Liam said with a sigh. “We talked about it and he apologized already.”
“So why are you really here?” Cane asked again.
Liam closed his eyes. There was no way he was going to outsmart Cane; he was too damn perceptive and paranoid.
