"He's insane," Ritchie said in wonder. "Look at him. Thinks he can smart-mouth his way out of anything."
Paul held up a length of chain. "See this?" he asked, rattling it for effect before he began to wrap it around Chance. "We bought this in case things went south with the Salucci brothers. This is fifty pounds of steel. I'm going to tie you up with it and then lock it around you."
Chance glanced down at the chains as Paul began carrying out his threat. If it made them feel more secure… and the more time they wasted trussing him up, the further along the river they were getting. How convenient. He wouldn't have to worry about anyone overhearing screams.
"You're tryin' my patience," Robert growled. "Now, I'm gonna ask you again, and you'd better cut the shit. What's your name? Your real name?"
Chance did have another name, of course. The one he'd been born with well over a hundred years ago, but even though it would be of no use to Robert, he still refused to utter it.
"Chance is the only name you're getting out of me."
Robert jerked his head at Ritchie, who left his position looming over Chance to go around the side of the boat. When he came back minutes later, he was wheeling a large bucket on a dolly filled with something gray and grainy.
Chance closed his eyes, but only so the others didn't see him roll them with annoyance. Couldn't they do anything original?
"Cement," Robert supplied, though Chance already knew that. "You keep it up with your smart mouth and that bucket's gonna be your new pair of shoes. There's no getting out of this one. You talk, or I'm gonna shove your chained, cemented ass off this boat. Hell, I'll even let Paul shoot you in the head first, 'cause I know he's itchin' to."
Chance winced. Head shots hurt like hell, silver or no silver. He knew he'd have a terrific headache for about ten minutes while everything knit back into place. Damned melodramatic mobsters, he thought irritably. He was eating every last one of them before this whole mess was finished!
But first things first.
Robert watched him with an inscrutable expression. "There's only one thing that'll stop all this unpleasantness from becoming a reality." He leaned forward until his nose was almost touching Chance's. "Tell me where Frazier is, and I'll let you live."
Chance's eyebrows went up. Well. He hadn't been expecting that.
"You're the one using Frazier to blackmail Isabella into marrying you, and yet you're telling me you don't know where he is?"
Robert whipped him across the head with the butt of his gun. Chance's fangs nearly popped out on their own accord with the desire to bury themselves into Robert's oh-so-deliciously close jugular, but he controlled himself. As soon as he got off this boat, he'd find a nice tasty person to score a pint off of. Hell, maybe even two nice tasty persons. After all, he'd owe himself a treat after getting his brains rearranged.
"Don't fuck with me," Robert said in a menacing tone. "Right after Frazier went missing, you showed up in town shadowing Isa. No one knows you, you don't have no record, no ID, no nothing. It's like you're a fucking ghost. But I don't believe in ghosts, so you know what I think? I think you're some kind of loose-cannon mercenary the Salucci brothers hired to break Frazier out. Isa's a bit shy, so she needed a little persuading to agree to marry me. But if her brother's on the loose, it's a potential issue for me. Makes me look bad, which then means the Saluccis get the syndicate support, and I don't."
"That's an interesting theory," Chance noted. "Go on. I'll tell you if you're getting warmer."
Robert glared at him but continued. "I figure you got greedy. Began playing both sides, since if the Salucci brothers had Frazier, they would have taunted me with it every time they'd been around me. Guess you thought you could drive up whatever price they'd agreed to pay you, because you thought you was holding all the cards. Well, guess what? I call your hand, and you got nothing. In fact, you're about five seconds away from a horrible death, and the only thing that's gonna save you is if you tell me where Frazier is. Otherwise, I'm gonna to let Paul shoot you in the head, and then we're gonna throw your dead ass off this boat. You'll spend the rest of eternity rotting on the bottom of this river, understand? So what's it gonna be? Life or death?"
Chance met his gaze with absolute coldness. "Even if I knew where Frazier Spaga was, I would never tell you, so you may as well have your man shoot me and stop wasting my time."
Robert straightened. "You stupid fuck. Those were just your last words."
Chance let a smirking Paul finish wrapping the chains around him before securing them, as promised, with a solid lock. Then he let them press his feet into the cement, piling the gray substance up until it encased his lower calves. He let them lead him to the edge of the boat, the three of them supporting him, since he couldn't very well walk with his feet immobilized in the bucket.