wall, Randall would have hit the floor. As it was, he sort of slid down, settling into a crouched position on the floor.
"I hate dirtying my hands on the likes of you."
"You're crazy!"
"Shut up and get up," Austin demanded.
"As much as I hate to, I want to look you in the eye when you spill your
guts."
Randall struggled to regain his balance. Once upright, he yanked a
handkerchief out of his suit pocket and held it over his nose, his terrorized gaze never leaving Austin.
"You're not going to hit me again, are you?" Ran- dall's voice quavered.
"Depends."
"I'll ... I'll tell you what you want to know."
"Then start talking."
"Please, can't I sit down?"
"No, dammit, you can't."
"Austin" Austin drew his hand back, prepared to punch him again.
Randall twisted his head, but not before raising both hands in front of
his face."I'll ... do anything you say," he stammered."Just please don't hurt me again.""Stop blubbering and tell me why you kidnapped Tyler .""I ... didn't. I ... I had it done."Austin's laugh was ugly."That doesn't surprise me.""I had to do it."Austin put some space between them, afraid that if he didn't, he would end up literally beating the stuffing out of Randall, lifelong friends or not. The bad part about that was he didn't consider himself a violent man, able to name on one hand the times he'd hit another man with his fists.
Anger, underscored by love, was a strong motivator, one that had driven
him to attack his once-trusted friend and attorney.
"I'm listening," Austin said in a voice that was as ugly as his laugh had been a moment ago.
"I hired someone to do the dirty work," Randall admitted, sniffling.
"For god's sake, why? Why do it at all?"
"I needed money."
"To feed your habit?"
Randall nodded in the affirmative, then held the handkerchief back over his nose.
"Please, I need to see a doctor."
"You can forget that."
"Dammit, my nose is broken, and I'm in pain."
Austin leaned over Randall, who cringed back into the wall.
"If you don't start talking, every bone in your sorry-ass body is going
to be broken. Then you can talk about pain."
"When did you get to be such a mean son of a bitch?" Randall's tone rose until he sounded like he was singing soprano.
"When you rucked with someone I love."
"I had no choice."
"We all have choices. You just happen to have made the wrong ones."
Randall removed the cloth and stared up at Austin. Randall's eyes were
pleading, and his chest was heaving, as if he were having difficultybreathing.
Austin wasn't moved one bit.
"You're wasting your time trying to con me with all that emotional crap, counselor."
' "I knew you'd been seeing Cassie, that you two were an item."
Austin stiffened.
"You've been following me?"
"Yes."
"Damn you."
"I didn't want to, but I had to."
"Stop saying that," Austin ordered, his tone sharp. "Or by God, I'll
tear your throat out as my bonus."
"I ... I knew you were close to Cassie's family, as well, and would do
anything for them." "Go on," Austin said through tight lips when Ran dall paused, his eyes skirting the room as if looking for a way out.
Austin voiced his thoughts.
"You can forget about going anywhere."
Randall's now swollen face lost what little color it had left.
"You can't keep me here."
"I don't intend to."
Randall began to shake violently.
"What does that mean?"
"~ " You'll find out soon enough. Right now, what happens to you is not
top priority."
"How ... how did you find out I was involved?"
"Let's just say a blind hog found another acorn."
"Stop talking in riddles."
Austin's features turned fierce.
"Hey, you're not calling the shots here. I'll talk however I please, and
you'll think it's music to your ears." Austin patted one of Randall's cheeks. Hard.
Randall gulped as if he'd just swallowed a peach pit.
"But just so you'll know you were outsmarted by a kid, I'll tell you.
Remember that train set you bought your girls and y'all played with when they were little tykes?"
Randall nodded.
"It just so happens that Tyler found one of the cars-- the caboose, to be exact. He called it his good luck charm. Now isn't that a hoot?
Or is it justice? Which do you think it is, counselor?"
"It's that whore's fault, the one I've been seeing. She's not only
possessive, but she's hooked on the stuff worse than me."
"Even if your mistress is a worse junkie than you, the kidnapping wasn't
her doing. It was yours, you lowlife." Austin's gaze roamed over the man he had once held in such high esteem.
"What a waste," Austin added.
"Looking at you and what you've become makes me sick to my stomach among