Against the Tide by Nikki Groom Page A

his shoulder in a panic and opens his mouth like a fish out of water to shout, but I clamp my hand over it tightly before grabbing his arm with my free hand and twisting it sharply up his back as far as I can get it. He cries out, in shock as much as discomfort.
    Thank you, Harley, for all the different ways you showed me how to immobilise a suspect.
    “Hello Mr. Price, it’s mighty nice to meet you. Why don’t you let us in, and take me somewhere more private, eh?” I suggest in a quiet but assertive voice that leaves no room for indecision or argument. He instantly drops his leather briefcase and fumbles to open the door with shaky hands. He’s absolutely shitting himself, he has no idea who I am or why I’m here, and he probably thinks I’m going to rob him. Stupid fucker. The fact that he complies so easily gives me a heady power, a power and control I haven’t felt for a long time. Long before even Lizzie died.
    I drop my hand from his mouth and he gasps. “What do you want?” he whimpers like a little girl and I laugh.
    “Information. Move,” I order, pushing him forward. “There a panic button in your office?”
    “N-n-no.”
    “You sure? ‘Cause if you’re shitting me …” I give him the option to tell the truth as I’m not really here to hurt him, as long as he does what he’s told and gives me what I want.
    “N-no. It’s the truth,” he answers shakily.
    “You try and call for help, I’ll make you regret breathing today.” I twist his arm a little harder just as a warning. This is going to be fun.
    We walk through the club and up a small flight of stairs before we reach his office door and he taps in the number code to unlock it. He pushes the door open and must sense a loosening of my grip as he turns fast and barges me with his shoulder as hard as he can, shoving me into the wall and taking off at a run.
    Really, really stupid move.
    He runs as fast as his legs will carry him, but I’m faster and I’m on him before he can make it even halfway across the dance floor. I take him down with a thud, landing with his face pressed against the cold tile floor. I jam my knee between his shoulder blades causing him to pull them back in pain. I move fast, grabbing his hands and pulling them around to meet at the bottom of his back. I reach in my back pocket and grab the lanyard that’s attached to my keys. I snap it off and loop it around each wrist before tying them together and pulling tight so there’s no chance of him getting free. Mr. Julian Price isn’t going anywhere for a while.
    “That was a really silly move, my friend,” I inform him with an eerie calmness to my tone.
    Just when I thought we could have done this easily, he showed me he didn’t want it without a fight. Well, if that’s what he wants. He wriggles underneath my grip and my patience snaps. I slam my palm into the back of his head, and smash his nose down to the cold, hard tile of the dance floor. He screams in pain and jerks his head back up before letting it drop back down with a thump and a strangled groan. I grab his hair and twist his head up and around to face me. His eyes struggle to focus and his nose has more or less exploded across his face leaving blood pouring from it and collecting in a pool on the floor in front of him. “You want to do this the hard way?” I ask, pulling my flick knife out of my pocket and popping the blade out. It glints as the light catches it and his eyes widen.
    He shakes his head from side to side frantically. “No, p-p-please no,” he whimpers pitifully.
    “Then get the fuck up.” I drop my grip on his hair and stand up behind him, letting him struggle to get to his feet. Blood still pours from his nose and into his mouth, coating his teeth. It takes a minute for him to stand, and when he does, he walks unsteadily to his office. He stands just inside the doorway and I enter behind him. He shuffles nervously from foot to foot, unsure of what to do with himself or what I’m