Blood ran down to his chin from a cut lip. His dark eyes, narrowed and full of hate, looked up at Bardin without flinching.
“So you’ve never heard of Maurer,” Bardin sneered. “Don’t you read the newspapers?”
“Only the sports column,” Pete said through gritted teeth.
Bardin swung his arm again, but Conrad reached out and caught his wrist.
“Take it easy, Sam,” he said quietly.
Bardin swung around. There was a dull, cold expression in his eyes as he stared at Conrad.
“That’s right,” he said with savage bitterness. “Take it easy. Never mind the guys who got killed. Never mind about their widows or their kids. Take it easy. What do you expect me to do? Put my arms around this little rat and suckle him?”
Conrad released Bardin’s wrist.
“Sorry to break up the session, but I want this guy.” He pulled out a sheet of paper and tossed it on to the desk. “This will cover you, Sam. Want me to sign for him?”
Bardin’s face grew dark with congested blood. He picked up the paper, glanced at it and tossed it back on the desk.