Strange reaction. Hank wasn’t sure he liked it. Last night had changed Nick-O. He sulked, but he stopped whining. Which was good in a way ’cause the whining was really getting on Hank’s nerves. But it was bad, ’cause Nick-O didn’t seem as scared of him. Yeah, he still did what he was told to do, but it was the ’tude. A totally different ’tude. He wasn’t freaked when Hank brought in the fish, when Hank started sharpening the knives. When he brought in the trout, Nick-O told him—yeah, told him, not asked him—to take it in the bathroom.

You tellin’ me what to do?

I’m not telling you what to do, Nick-O had answered. I’m just telling you to take it into the bathroom. I’m tired of smelling the fish. What is it with you and fish anyway?

Hank would have backhanded the kid right there and then, but Nick-O was playing with the gun. And it was loaded this time. Hank didn’t think it was smart to backhand a kid when he was holding a loaded Beretta.

Why are you so hung up on fish? Nick-O had pressed.

That little fucker. Questioning him again. And with no respect! Hank would have pounced on him, gun or no gun, but a little voice stopped him. And that same little voice had told him maybe it was good that Nick-O was a little tougher. Did he really want a wimp to protect him? Still, he had to keep Nick-O in line. But do it subtle like. Don’t explode. Forget about the pounding in the head, the hot fire behind the eyes.

Teach him with class.

Slowly, Hank had sauntered over to the kid, twirling the knife between his fingers as if it were a baton. Measured steps, each one brought just a tiny bit of fear back into Nick-O’s eyes.

Good, good.

With lightning-fast reflexes, he swatted the gun out of Nick-O’s hands, locked the boy’s head in his arms, and held the knife under his nose. Then Hank had said,

I like fish, ’cause I like to practice gutting things.

Nick-O didn’t answer. Not even after Hank had released him.

Very good.

Hank had noticed immediately that Nick-O’s eyes weren’t quite as cocky as they were a moment ago. But they weren’t as scared as he would have liked, either. Then Hank had broken into a smile, feeling the right side of his lip curl higher than the left side.

But if it bothers you, Nick-O…

Slap on the shoulder.

Hey, if it bothers you, guy, I’ll take it in the bathroom. Running water. Easier to clean up anyway. After I’m done, we’ll get ourselves some duds.