I walk in and shove myself against the wall. He has a hard-as-fuck chair which sits facing him directly across the desk. I know he has a gun holstered under the desk, which makes sense given the number of enemies he has.
There are only a few people who’ve sat in that chair, mostly ol’ ladies, and they’ve all walked out alive. I’ve never sat in it, never will. Especially today.
Hangman nods towards it. “Have a seat.” He likes to play games, but it’s hard to tell if he’s fucking around or being serious.
I tilt my head. I’m almost sure he’s fucking around. “I’ll stand,” I say in a dead voice.
“What the fuck do you want?” he says. “My balls are full. I was about to see if Raven’s around.”
Raven’s a passaround and Hangman’s a crude prick, but that’s part of the lifestyle and I don’t care either way.
“What favor do you owe Kozlov?”
He sits back and contemplates me. To anyone else except maybe Joker, he’d tell them it’s none of their fuckin’ business, but it’s me asking and I rarely question anything or anyone. “Why?”
“Selkie was on a job this morning. Oscar was with her. Kozlov picked her up against her will. The pricks who grabbed her were physically hostile.” I stop and let that sink in.
He leans forward. “That bitch took Oscar with her on a job? What the fuck’s wrong with her.”
I don’t call him out for calling Selkie a bitch. I also don’t point out that he and I took Henri and Brielle to a meeting with an asshole Russian mob boss. Instead, I say, “That’s irrelevant.”
“Fuck, it ain’t!” Hangman snarls like Oscar’s his kid. “Where is he?”
“Safe.”
“Clubhouse?”
“No.”
He glares at me. “Somewhere better than here?”
“At the time I thought so.”
“You wanna go get her.” It’s a statement rather than a question. Hangman’s a fucker, but one of his brother’s got a problem, he’s gonna help sort it out. Except of course if it doesn’t serve his purpose. Like maybe in this case.
“I already got her,” I say.
“So, why are we having this conversation?”
“Because I asked some of the brothers to come with me to Kozlov’s to help out.”
“But not me.” His tone is cool and I’d think he was hurt by my admission except Hangman doesn’t show that kind of vulnerability.
“Who went with you?”
“Reaper, Joker, Stark. All unwillingly.”
“You forced them at gunpoint?”
“Reaper and Joker agreed under protest. Stark did as he was told.”
He pauses, places his forearms on his desk and curls his fist. “Why didn’t you come to me?”
“What’s the favor you owe Kozlov?” I ask again.
It takes less than three seconds for Hangman to comprehend what I’m asking. “You fuckin’ thought I had a hand in grabbin’ the bitch?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
