That’s what he should have done if he wanted to wipe the slate clean, but he hadn’t.
Cal tightened his fingers on Van’s wrist and twisted roughly. Muscles tightened in Van’s arm as he fought to take his arm back, but it didn’t work. Cal braced his thumb against the backof Van’s hand and shoved him back over to the sofa. The backs of Van’s knees hit the cushions, and he toppled over backward.
“How about this, then,” Cal said. “I owe you.”
“Get off me,” Van said through pinched lips. His wrist was pushed back at an awkward angle until his fingers nearly touched the inside of his forearm, and his elbow was twisted painfully. “You think I can’t touch you becauseyou’re sticking to legit work? All it takes is a couple of calls—”
His voice choked into a groan of pain as Cal bent his wrist back another millimeter. The color, what Van had of it, drained from his face as he writhed against the leather. Cal used his weight against the lever of Van’s arm to pin him in place.
“A couple of calls. That’s right,” Cal said. “That’s all it would take for me to giveit legs. Van Davies sold me out to the cops. Pass it on.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Cal waited. After a second, Van grimaced because he knew better. He pulled his leg up and kicked Cal in the thigh with a bare foot. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but Cal backed off.
“Get off me,” Van said as he got his wrist back. He pointedly massaged the joint. “I’ll do it, all right? Jesus, all you had to do was sayfuckin’ please and thank you. Beg a little. Not you. You gotta take it too far. No wonder your mum’s embarrassed to introduce you to her new family.”
Cal shrugged. “She says the same about El,” he said. “And El’s got manners.”
Something nasty flashed through Van’s eyes, and Cal knew to brace himself. Like a rat backed into a corner, Van liked to make sure that even if someone won they walkedaway bloody from a fight with him.
“Yeah, but you’re a package deal, aren’t ya?” he said. “She can’t have El without you. He’d never go for that. One more thing he can’t have because he’s got a fucked-up, dumb-as-dirt little brother.”
That cut deeper than the knife had. Cal swallowed it and shrugged. “Find me the kid that jumped me. Once you do that, I have no reason to come round here and tellanyone the truth about who told the good Detective Kincaid what.”
Van reached down with his good hand and grabbed the beer by the neck. He slouched back on the couch and took a swig. His throat worked as he swallowed.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said. “Now fuck off, Cal. You bring the tone down.”
