Read Blood Deep (Blackthorn Book 4) for Free Online Page B

steadily on Pummel’s again as he placed the empty glass back on the table. Because play ball though he needed to, compromising by being the underdog had never been a pill he could swallow. ‘Enough to want to make that clear at this stage.’
    Pummel’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re a long way from home, con. I don’t know what kind of power you had wherever it is you’re from or why they thought it better to send you here, but you’re in my territory now so I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want. And if this is going to work, you’ll answer to whatever I call you.’ He leaned back in the sofa again, his elbows resting along the back as his glare locked on Eden. ‘So let me know now if you still have a problem with that.’
    Eden stared right back, not even flinching under Pummel’s scrutiny, at the prospect of being beaten to a pulp by his henchmen at any point. ‘Depends,’ Eden remarked. ‘Are your rooms en suite? I’ve missed having my own bathroom.’
    Silence dropped like a two-tonne weight.
    But then Pummel laughed. Hard. Deep. He seemed genuinely amused, albeit fleetingly. ‘You prove yourself as useful as I think you might be, you can have an entire fucking floor to yourself.’
    It was Eden’s turn to smile. ‘Throw in fresh linen and I’ll prove exactly how useful I can be.’
    Pummel held his gaze on Eden in the painful moments that passed. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.’ He puffed a few more smoke rings into the air. ‘I need to make my mind up about you. Give myself a little time to think.’
    Eden leaned back in the sofa as if he held all the cards. ‘Sure,’ he said, glancing across his right shoulder at the pool table. There were ways into every situation, and he’d already sussed Pummel. At least he hoped he had. Besides, a cue in his hand would grant him the only semblance of a weapon should things turn nasty. ‘Are you a pool man, Pummel?’ he asked, looking back at him.
    ‘I play, yeah.’
    ‘You want to play me while you do that thinking?’
    ‘Are you hoping for a wager?’ Pummel asked.
    Eden shrugged as he stood, leaving his jacket behind as if he were amongst friends. ‘Or we could play a game for the pleasure of the game,’ he said, passing through the gap in the sofa to cross the fifteen-foot room towards the pool table.
    ‘Are you any good?’ Pummel called after him.
    Across his shoulder, Eden flashed him a grin. ‘I’ll whip your arse.’
    Instead of being enflamed by the challenge, another smile crept across Pummel’s lips. He held his hand up to indicate for Homer, Chemist and Dice to take it easy as he exhaled the remains of his joint before stubbing it out in the overflowing ashtray between them. Thankfully he stood, the others following behind him. ‘If you manage to whip my arse, con, you’ll get a room until dawn.’
    Eden accepted the cue from one of the players who promptly took the hint to forego their game, leaving Eden to restock the table as Pummel approached. ‘Sounds good to me.’
    Pummel grabbed his own cue from the other retreating player, before resting his hands on the table, staring Eden down as the latter refilled the triangle. ‘Don’t you want to know what’ll happen if you lose?’
    Eden shrugged. ‘Not going to happen,’ he said, removing the triangle.
    Pummel smirked. ‘Best of three?’
    ‘Two games it is then,’ Eden said, flashing Pummel another smile before bending over the table to break.

4
    I t was the longest hour of her life as Jessie intermittently checked out the action at the pool table.
    What had started as stilted conversation gradually eased into the relaying of pool-hall successes. Before too long, full-on banter had erupted – shared experiences and exploits, discussions of sport, drink preferences, their feats in other games they had played both in and outside the penitentiaries. Eden may have had a smart mouth, but he worked Pummel with an infectious charm, his easy composure clearly relaxing to