Desert Bound

9: Brice

9: Brice

Brice

Brice didn’t want to be here, but Ryann had insisted.

“Let me do the talking,” she’d said. And he was fine with that. He had no wish to converse with Porfirio Fay. “But pay attention. And be ready, just in case.”

In case of what, she didn’t have to say. The man always had protection, never got his own hands dirty. If it came to a fight, no way would they win. Best option would be to run.

Everything about the man was loud‌—‌booming voice, garish clothes, expansive gestures. And his building suited him, with its pointless pillars and fast-moving wall displays. His office was dominated by a dark-wood desk, but there was a couch to one side, some hideous white rug on the floor, and grotesque blocks on plinths that must’ve been art of some kind.

Fay had squeezed himself into his oversized chair, head resting against the leather upholstery.

“I’m disappointed,” Fay said. He brought his hands up, formed a steeple beneath his multiple chins.

“We did what you asked,” Ryann said. “We’re here to collect payment.”

“Hmmm.” Fay tapped his middle fingers together. His eyes focused on Ryann‌—‌Brice was a lackey, not worthy of the man’s attention.

That didn’t make Fay careless, though. Brice had spotted the weapons the servants wore, and he’d noticed how the door hadn’t closed when they entered this room.

“We delivered Castor Martell as instructed,” Ryann said. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

That wasn’t good. Brice stood steady, feet shoulder-width apart, hands hanging by his side. Fay’s people had searched them both for weapons, of course, but his stance might make Fay think twice before doing anything stupid.

“Not quite,” Fay said. “I wanted him alive.”

“He was when we handed him over.”

“Only just.”

Ryann frowned. “His vital signs were strong. The drug was from a reliable source.” She shot Brice a glance, and he nodded. “He was in good health when your people took him. You can’t hold us responsible for anything that happened subsequently.”

“So you blame me for the man’s death?”

“I didn’t say that. Accidents happen. We completed the job you hired us for. An honourable businessman would pay us what he’d promised.”

“You accuse me of being dishonourable?”

“You misinterpret my words.”

Brice took a deep breath, forced himself to stay calm. She was too defensive, and that was coming across as aggression. Fay wouldn’t take that well.

It was another reminder that Ryann wasn’t a commander. Not really. She was older than the rest of them, had more years experience in the company, and she’d held a higher position before‌…‌before everything went wrong. But she’d only been a second. Could do all that mothering crap, could look after a crew’s wellbeing while under a commander But she wasn’t a leader.

And Fay knew this. The man might look like a joke, but to get to his position‌—‌and remain there‌—‌took a lot of savvy, a lot of quick judgement. He had Ryann down as an amateur from the start.

This wasn’t going to go well.

Fay smiled, his bright red lips parting to reveal perfect white teeth. “You don’t trust me. That’s fine. I don’t trust you either. Especially not after this screw-up.”

“We delivered Martell as instructed…”

“No! I wanted information from him, but his death prevented that. And his death was the result of that concoction you shoved into his body.”

“We were careful…”

“You weren’t careful! If you had been, you’d have discovered his condition.”

Ryann frowned. “There was nothing odd in his medical record.”

“Of course not! You think a dog like Martell wanted just anyone knowing about his weak heart?” He tilted his head. “Or maybe you did. Maybe you did this on purpose.”

“We’d have no reason…”

“You don’t like me, do you?”

Ryann blinked. “Our arrangement is business. My personal feelings don’t come into it.”

“Oh, cut the crap! I offend you. You don’t like the way I operate. You’re jealous of my position and wealth. Admit it, woman! You don’t like me.”

There was a sheen of moisture on Ryann’s forehead. Sure, the room was too warm, but Ryann was nervous. And that made Brice nervous too.

He needed to stay alert, and ready.

“You’re not someone I’d choose to socialise with,” Ryann said, her voice too quiet, too apologetic. Something else that wouldn’t go down well with Fay.

“Very diplomatic,” the man said, making the words emerge as a threat.

And Ryann either missed it or didn’t care. She let her shoulders roll forward. As she spoke, her hands waved in the air.

“But you hired us for a job, and we did what you requested. If Castor Martell had a health issue, and if he chose to disguise that fact, then he only has himself to blame for this accident.”

“Accident?”

“If we’d killed him on purpose, why would we come back to you?”

“Because you thought you’d play me. And you need my money.”

“There are other opportunities here in Athelis, and in Lisit.”

“After you destroy their property and attack their enforcers?”

Ryann almost smiled. “Some might call that experience.”

“And they’d say you should have done a better job. You want to impress Lisit scum, you don’t leave law enforcement alive.”

“We don’t kill indiscriminately. And we didn’t kill Martell.”

“I say different.”

“Only because you don’t want to pay us.”

Ryann stood firm, meeting Fay’s gaze. Her words hit hard‌—‌his middle fingers stopped their tapping, and he didn’t respond straight away.

Maybe she knew what she was doing after all.

She raised her eyebrows in question to Fay. He, in turn, took a long, deep breath. His stomach pushed against the glowing orange material of his shirt, and the light reflected off metal threads in the fabric.

“I appreciate the honesty,” Fay said. “Many would have backed down by now. You’re strong. I’ll give you that. And your lad knows his place too.”

His eyes flickered over to Brice, and Brice met the glare with cold indifference. At least, that’s how he hoped it came across.

Fay returned his attention to Ryann. “For the sake of argument, I’ll accept that you didn’t intend to kill Martell. And you did deliver him, as per our arrangement. But I sought him primarily for information, and he expired before divulging. As his demise was a direct consequence of your ineptitude, there must be consequences. I’m afraid I can only offer a fraction of your agreed recompense.”

Ryann’s shoulders sagged in relief. It was only a slight movement, but Fay smiled, and Brice knew he’d picked up on it, knew he’d won.

Which meant Ryann had lost. She’d messed things up, for the whole crew.

“How much?” she asked.