To shoot or not to shoot, that's the question

part 7: pressure

Everyone knows that you can’t touch Blair’s car without consequences. One of the guards walked into the garage and saw what had happened, or what he thought what happened and called Blair. After we left Dom and the other kids, Blair and I raced as fast as we could back to our headquarters. Actually it was Blair who raced back. I just sat in the passenger’s seat, because according to him, I drive slower than his grandma. Who isn’t exactly under the living anymore.

So Blair saw his car, freaked out and demanded to see the security tapes. He didn’t even watch the whole tape, he only saw three guys walking in the garage and then he stood up to search for them. It didn’t take that long to find them, they were in the common room playing poker.

He grabbed two of them by the neck and dragged them to the basement, he kicked the other one in front of him. I almost burst out laughing when that guy fell down the stairs, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Blair’s fury.

Once in the basement he threw them in the interrogation room and closed the door. The guys sat down in the chairs with Blair towering over them. I stood by the door with my arms crossed.

“What’s happening?”, asked the guy in the middle. He was by far the dumbest looking. His head was way too small for his body, that consisted only of muscle. All three of them were buff and looked like they were in their early twenties.

Blair glared at him with such fury that he shut up immediately and the others looked at their hands as if they were the most fascinating things they’d ever seen. I chuckled darkly, why not scare them a bit?

Blair took out my balisong and started to play with it, though he never took his eyes of them. A minute passed before he threw the knife at the wall behind them. The guys flinched, but said nothing. Blair walked around them like a predator and took the knife out of the wall.

“You were in the garage this afternoon, weren’t you?”, Blair asked when he sat back in his chair.

“Y-yes.”, stammered the one on the right. He didn’t look like a person that belonged with the mafia. He looked too young and too innocent. He was nervously fiddling with a small leather bracelet.

“What were you doing there?”. Blair watched him with narrowed eyes, but the guy wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“N-nothing, were w-we not supposed to be there?”, he stammered again, his lip trembled and it looked like he was about to cry. Leave it to Blair to make a grown man cry. I decided to step in.

“Blair, that’s enough.”, I said and put my hand on his shoulder. He looked at it for a moment before meeting my eyes.

“But Evan...”

I sighed. “Blair you’re blowing things out of proportion, so shut up and let me do the talking.” He mumbled something incoherently under his breath, but didn’t say anything else.

I rested arms on the table and looked at the guys one by one and smirked when I saw them swallow.

“Now tell us the truth, what were you doing in there.”, I told them nicely, but with an edge to my voice.

“W-we heard about the awesome cars and w-we w-wanted to see them.”, answered the guy on the right. Couldn’t he stop stammering? He definitely wasn’t mafia material.

“I understand that you wanted to see them, but why ruin his car?”, I asked while pointing to Blair.

“Yeah, why would you do that?”, asked Blair venomously.

“Huh? R-ruin, w-we did no s-such thing.”

“They wouldn’t mean the coke I spilled on the Ferrari Italia, right?”, whispered the dumb one to the guy on the left. I rolled my eyes, he really was dumb if he thought we couldn’t hear him.