“Yeah,” I said.“Asked for caffeine and adult supervision.”
“He’s got one of those,” General said.“We’ll see about the other.”
Atilla nodded toward the hallway.“When you’re done pretending that black tar is breakfast, get to the storm cellar,” he said.“We’re not going to drag this out longer than we have to.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
Marci slid a plate in front of me before I could make a run for the coffeepot.“Eat,” she said.“Spade’s banned from interrogation room access until he finishes his toast.Same deal for you.”
I smirked.“You banning the Prez from his own cellar too?”
She arched a brow.I knew that look and knew I needed to back down.“Never mind.”
I wolfed down the food, gulped coffee tasting of burned beans and pure stubbornness, then made my way toward the office.
Spade stood waiting by the back door, tablet tucked under one arm, thermos clutched in his hand, hoodie thrown over yesterday’s wrinkled shirt.
“Sleep much?”I asked.
“Enough,” he replied with dark circles contradicting his words.“My evil villain batteries needed recharging.”
“You say that like it’s a joke,” I said.
He grinned.“Mostly.”
We walked toward the cellar.A padlock hung on the door.Atilla stood beside it, keys in hand, General on his other side.
“You sure about this?”Atilla asked Spade, even though we all knew the answer.
Spade nodded.“He’s halfway broken,” he said.“Went from big talk to whining in under an hour last night.Give me one more pass and I’ll have the pieces I want.”
“And if he holds out?”General asked.
Spade rolled his shoulders.“Plenty of ways to skin a rat,” he said.“The man loves hearing himself talk.I need to aim him toward useful topics.”
Atilla pushed the key into the lock.“Today marks his last breath of our air,” he said.“One way or another.”
The lock snapped open with a metallic click.I followed them down the narrow stairs in single file.Concrete, damp air, and sweat assaulted my nose when we entered the storm cellar.
Roth sat where we’d left him.Chair bolted to the floor.Hands bound behind his back.Ankles secured to the metal legs.The hood was gone now.His eyes flinched away from the bare bulb overhead.
Bruises bloomed along his jaw and cheekbone.Dried blood crusted at one corner of his mouth.Sweat darkened his shirt.
He looked smaller than he had in any dream.That surprised me.
He shifted when he heard us, chains clinking.“Kane,” he said, voice rough.
The fact he remembered my name said a lot.I’d been background noise in his world for years.One more biker who happened to share a roof with the girl he thought belonged to him.Didn’t matter.I didn’t want to hear whatever he had to say.
Spade moved to the metal table set up against one wall.Laptop.A notepad sat beside them, lines already filled in from yesterday.
General took up a position near the door, arms folded.Atilla leaned against the opposite wall, expression unreadable.
I stepped closer to Roth, just out of the range of whatever he thought he could reach.
He dragged his gaze up and down me.“You’re playing dress-up,” he said.“Little soldier for the big bad club.”
“You look like shit,” I said.
