Butcher wants to iron out some wrinkles first.

“Well, ah… Rob? And Brandi?” The agents nodded. Butcher sighed, as if burdened with terrible news he had to impart. “I guess that’s a relationship I can’t see myself getting into bed with – business-wise I mean.”

Hicks tensed a little and noted that Gabby had her hand on hip too. They both had guns, and he’d been a little surprised that they hadn’t had to give them up when they came in. Still, he hoped they wouldn’t have to use them.

The room crackled with tension for a moment, Butcher still smiling, sadly but amiably and the two undercover agents wondering what came next.

“That doesn’t mean, of course, that I can’t do business with you if we make a few amendments to the status quo. Mikey?” Butcher looked to the massive bodyguard, but the thug was already moving.

In fact, everyone moved at the same time. Hicks had his snub nosed pistol in his hand in a moment, but it wasn’t quick enough. Mikey, the muscle, was already on top of Gabby, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off the floor in a bear-hug that trapped her hands and left her unable to reach her own firearm. He had his gun up and pointing at the goon, and was about to yell for him to drop the girl when he felt the cool metal of a gun barrel press against his own neck. Fuck - the thin guy.

Butcher was leaning back against his desk, looking, if anything, entertained.

“Drop the girl, or I drop the goon,” Hicks spat.

“C’mon Rob, Robster,” Butcher grinned, “You’re over-reacting! I don’t wanna kill either of you! I don’t even wanna hurt you. I just wanna do some management restructuring. Besides, do the math, who’s got more to lose?”