Harvey’s insurgents came and went all day. The Buzz Gun supplies dwindled after each visit, but the same six men Harvey had assigned to watch the docking station stayed. Marcus slumped in his chair outside the room holding Ben hostage. He’d been buzzing after Harvey had freed him from Taggart’s prison that morning and ready to do damage. And when Harvey had suggested they take Ben, he’d been all for it. But to kill him, not babysit the turd.
Ben’s muffled whining reached him through the locked door and the small window two-thirds up the wall. He ignored him and slouched more.
One of Harvey’s men walked passed, looking pissed off. He pointed at the room. ‘You gonna get that?’
Marcus folded his arms. ‘He’s just after attention.’
The man smiled. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Trust me. I know this kid.’
‘Okay, but if he shits and pisses himself it’s on you.’
The thought drove Marcus to his feet. ‘I, uh... yeah, thanks.’
He opened the door to see Ben had worked his gag free.
‘I need to use the toilet,’ Ben whined at him like a little kid.
Marcus checked the floor, hoping, praying, he hadn’t relieved himself. He’d had to do it once—clean up after Enzo Agostini had stumbled home from a night of drinking, gambling and hookers. It had been the most humiliating night of his life.
He strode over to the teen and yanked him to his feet.
A bound Ben pitched forward; Marcus caught him before he fell.
‘Could you untie my feet?’
With a sigh, Marcus ordered, ‘On your belly.’
Ben lay down and Marcus undid his feet, but looped the binds like a noose around the boy’s neck. Ben got to his feet and Marcus controlled him with the extra reins.
‘Try anything and I’ll yank this so hard, you’ll see spots.’
He pushed him out of the room and across the wide, open space to a corridor housing facilities that had once been open to the public. He pushed the kid inside the bathroom and into one of the stalls.
Ben could manage from here with his hands tied to the front. This was as far as the help went.
Holding on to the reins, Marcus waited by the door, trying not to listen to the sounds in the stall. Wishing he could be out there with the other men, wreaking havoc. Taking little shits to take a shit was not why he’d signed up to this. Not why he’d suffered humiliation and threats to his life under Gaetano’s rule for all those years. The humiliation part had been courtesy of Enzo.
Marcus was better than Harvey believed him to be. He was better than Carl, his former friend turned betrayer.
Ben exited the stall and Marcus yanked him by the neck over to the sink. While Ben washed his hands, Marcus stared at his still-altered face in one of the many mirrors.
Ben kept glancing at him while he washed.
Marcus stared at the turd. ‘What are you looking at?’
‘I’m starting to see your old face return.’
Panicked, he eyed the work Harvey had completed. Shit, he was right. The bottom half of his face, and below his eyes, was beginning to change back to what it used to be. Except for his throat scar, any changes made to his appearance could not be considered permanent.
Not that it mattered anyway. He was past hiding on this planet.
He was past hiding. Period.
The sound of the water turning off broke him out of his daze. Marcus straightened up and snapped the snarl of rope looped around Ben’s neck.
‘Ow, that hurts.’
He whipped the ends on his neck. It would be easy to kill the kid, to put him down like the dog he was. He could say the kid slipped, banged his head on the porcelain sink.
Harvey would be livid. The men outside would fear him, worry about being left alone with him. He’d be revered. Gaetano had taught him there was a time and place for fear. Strike at the right moment, and those you worried taking over would never step out of line again.
But Buchanan would shoot him dead if the kid died.
With another sigh, Marcus shoved Ben out of the bathroom and steered him back to the main hall.
The six men dotted around the place—most up on the higher balcony—were using magnification glasses to check out of the windows there. Marcus eyed the trestle table with a few weapons left, some set to charge. He swiped one off the table before they saw him, and added it to the knife in his waistband.
Marcus nudged the teen on and back to the room, ordering him to lie down while he retied his feet. He then shoved him into his seat and bound him.
Ben stared up at him. Gone was the kid from Waverley who feared Marcus Murphy. Maybe killing his grandfather had pushed him too far, made him fear no one.
Technically, the old man hadn’t died by Marcus’ hand. But he had brought him closer to death by beating him up and tying him to the chair. Still, Albert Lee had been alive and kicking when Marcus had bolted from the inn.
He sensed more bravado now than fear from the kid. Maybe he still had hope someone would rescue him.
Not for the first time, Gaetano entered his mind. How would he play it?
Marcus slouched against the wall and goaded, ‘Who’s coming for you?’
The kid—teen—just stared at him.
‘I said who’s coming for you?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
Marcus pulled the Buzz Gun out and pointed it at him. ‘You know I know how to use one of these.’
He caught the flicker of uncertainty—and fear—in Ben’s eyes. It sent a thrill through him.
‘Bill will come. And Stephen.’
Marcus laughed. The Indigenes cared about nobody but their own. And Marcus cared only about his own kind. It was the way life was—the way it should be.
‘Fat chance. You’re on your own. Or, rather, it’s just you and me. And I’ll make fucking sure I’m the last person you see.’
Ben lifted his chin. ‘So why is Harvey keeping me here? I assume it’s because he’s sure Bill will come.’
Marcus had assumed that too. He still didn’t know what Harvey’s end game was. The man was too damn secretive, like Gaetano Agostini.
But Harvey was no Gaetano. And Marcus had gotten to know his former boss’s habits well. Who better to channel his former employer than the one person who’d revered him more than his own son?
He straightened up and walked over to Ben, getting close enough to sniff him. ‘It doesn’t matter if he comes. He won’t get past my men.’
The kid eyed him. ‘Don’t you mean Harvey’s men? Did you see that red-haired one? Looks exactly like Carl. Must be weird to be working for your old friend. He wasn’t very smart as I remember.’
Marcus backhanded him across the face; Ben yelped.
‘Shut your mouth.’
The kid smiled through the pain. ‘You’re nothing here, like you were nothing on Earth.’
‘If I’m nothing here, then why has Harvey put me in charge of the bait?’
Ben worked his jaw from side to side, as if releasing the last of the pain there. The kid had no answer.
Just as he thought.
Marcus brought his face closer. ‘Listen to me carefully. You will not make it out alive. I will make sure of it.’
The kid laughed. Actually laughed. The sound startled Marcus enough that he pulled back.
‘Are you shitting me right now?’ said Ben. His laugh faded away. ‘I remember your style of management and it’s to hurt first, never ask questions. You’ve never been a negotiator. But I assume Gaetano was.’ Marcus’ blood ran hot at the mention of his former boss. ‘You’re trying to reinvent yourself around someone who knows your tactics, who had to live with your bullshit.’
Marcus straightened up. The kid was right. His efforts were wasted on this turd.
He worked the gag into place and left the room. But not before he punched the closed door.
Might as well make it sound authentic in here.
The six men in the docking bay didn’t know him, didn’t know his reputation. They were a blank slate upon which to wield his Agostino charm. Harvey had made a mistake in underestimating him. He would turn the men one by one, make them follow him. Rule with an iron fist and no mercy—just like Enzo used to.
He wandered over to one man who had climbed down from the balcony and was sitting in a chair, taking a break. It was the one who had red hair like his former friend turned enemy, Carl.
‘Anything out there?’ Marcus asked.
The man barely looked up at him.
‘Who are you expecting first—Taggart?’
The Carl lookalike lifted his gaze lazily. ‘Get back to your post.’
‘The kid’s bound and gagged. He isn’t going anywhere. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, see if I can help. I used to be first-in-command for the most ruthless man in Brooklyn.’
The man stood and towered over Marcus. ‘How about you go do your job and leave the rest of us to ours?’
He would not let one of Harvey’s untrained men threaten him. Especially not one who looked like that dipshit Carl.
Marcus pointed a finger at him. ‘How about you sit the fuck down and show me some respect?’
The man narrowed his eyes at him. His lip curled up in part disgust, part sneer. ‘What the fuck’s wrong with your face? It’s like half of it is falling.’
Marcus covered his chin. ‘Harvey’s work gone wrong.’
‘He change your face?’
Marcus released it. ‘Yeah, because I’m a dangerous fucker. So don’t get on the wrong side of me.’
The man laughed. ‘Okay, whatever you say. Now fuck off.’
Marcus stomped back to his chair, noticing the other men up high had been watching. Their smiles had him seething inside.
He’d only just met them. How could they have sized him up so fast?
Unless Harvey had spoken to them...
That made his blood boil. Harvey had underestimated him. Again.
He would make these men listen to him. Make them respect him, like he’d respected Gaetano. Then he would make them follow.