Page 23 of Fool Me Twice

Cane flagged down a waitress and ordered them both coffees without needing to ask for Hart’s order. Once she was gone he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, flicking it on before extending both the box and the lighter toward Hart.

“Want one?”

“I quit,” Hart said, his voice grating as he stared daggers at him. But Cane could see that his hands were shaking. The craving was written in every line of his body.

Cane dragged in smoke, letting it out in tiny circles, watching Hart’s eyes follow each puff.

“It’s just us here,” Cane said, placing the pack in the middle of the table.

An offer.

Hart stared at the yellow box for a long, suspended breath before he reached out and pushed the pack back over to Cane’s side. His fingers trembled and lingered before he jerked them back into his lap and looked anywhere else.

A denial.

Cane leaned back in his chair and stared at Hart as he smoked, trying not to feel some type of way about it. It was just a smoke, but in reality it was more than that, and it hit on a simmering rejection that Cane had let fester inside of him for a long time.

They sat in tense silence until their drinks were brought to the table, breaking the stalemate between them.

Hart took his with a small thank you, grabbing a napkin to place under the cup and arranging it at an exact angle, the handle perpendicular to the corner. He grabbed a sugar packet, fingers going back after he had one to arrange the rest of them, not stopping there and doing the condiments for good measure.

Cane watched him as he smoked, a little fascinated by the outward expression of how Hart’s brain worked.

“So,” Hart said once he was satisfied, sending him an arch look. ”Do you want to tell me the truth about how you knew where to find me?”

“Secrets of the trade,” Cane said, flicking ash into the tray on the table. “Let’s just say it wasn’t hard and leave it at that, hm?”

“What if that won’t work for me?” Hart asked.

Cane shrugged carelessly. “You’ll learn to deal.”

Hart glared but opted not to say anything else, picking up his cup and taking a sip of his coffee. He set the cup down, pulled out his phone and opened a stopwatch app. He set it to ten minutes and started the countdown.

“You’re actually gonna time me?” Cane asked with a snort.

“You set the conditions,” Hart said, haughty and clearly proud of himself. “I’m making sure they’re being followed.”

“You…”

“You’re wasting time,” Hart said, tapping a finger on the screen like he hadn’t just spent fifteen minutes doing something that would be ruined as soon as the next person sat down. “Get to the point.”

“Fine.” Cane rolled his eyes, kicking his feet out to sit up a little more. “I caught one of my bartenders trying to sell drugs out of my ring.”

Hart remained still and silent, staring at Cane without a flicker of an expression on his face. “Okay?” he said finally.

Cane rolled his eyes again, running his hand over his head and taking another drag from his cigarette. “It’s not like him.”

He knew Hart wouldn’t immediately get it. Honesty was a rare thing in his line of work, loyalty even more so. But Cane had learned the hard way how to surround himself with people he could depend on for the most part, and seeing it crash around him shook him to his core.

“It’s not like a bartender in a shady fight ring to commit an illegal act,” Hart deadpanned, confirming Cane’s assumptions.

“Raph isn’t a bad kid.”

“I never said he was.” Hart raised his chin. “Just that I’m not sure how his questionable actions led you to believing there was a curse in place.”

“Because he was really weird when I confronted him,” Cane said and that got Hart’s attention.

“Weird how?” he asked slowly.