“I see you haven’t changed at all.”
Connor wasn’t used to being smacked around by women he didn’t know. Not before dinner, maybe a couple of drinks. He peered up at this one, but the halo of the naked bulb behind her head obscured his vision. “Have we met? Do I still owe you money? Is that what this is about?”
She leaned forward, gazing at Connor from a couple of inches away. “You have never earned enough money, old man.”
Ah. That cleared things up. She was obviously Justin’s sister.
“Let me talk to him, Debbie.”
Speak of the devil…
The blonde stepped aside. Justin approached from the open doorway. His arms and shoulders, and one thigh, were wrapped in bandages. His face was a smorgasbord of blue and purple. But he still managed to smile as he stretched out a foot and poked Connor’s leg.
Connor gritted his teeth.
“That’s for the van. Gertie loved that thing.” Justin had dragged a wooden chair in with him. He turned it around and sat with his arms resting across the back, wincing slightly as he raised his right arm.
“Now look. We don’t have time to waste. So let me lay it out for you. Noecker’s dead. Francina is with us. And you’re tied to a chair.” He smiled up at Debbie, who drew a rather large handgun from her boot holster. “Your friend here wants to put a bullet through your thick skull. I haven’t asked why, because I don’t care. The only reason.” He held up a finger, wincing again. “Only reason you’re still alive, is that I think you might be able to help us. But even that’s only because you’ve gone through so many of our men today that we need any help we can get.”
Connor looked him straight in the eye. He’d never liked the snot-nosed bunny-hugger, but he was beginning to have a grudging respect for him.
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