I've spent years on every street in hell, but I never saw you there. (Burke Devlin/Roger Collins) (for @widowshill)
(Accidentally deleted this ask somehow, but not before copying the request! Also, first time writing this pairing!)
Upstairs at the inn, Burke was brooding.
He'd been told once that the Collins family had the market cornered on brooding, but that was before he'd spent ten years in prison for someone else's crime. Ten years in a barred hell, while Roger married Burke's girl and set about destroying her.
Ten years ago, the thought of killing a man and railroading your romantic rival for it would never have occurred to Burke.
Now, though, it just sounded inefficient. What Roger should have done was to kill him.
He emptied his glass of whiskey, poured another, and lit a cigarette.
It should have been Roger on trial for a man's life, and getting ten years for drunken manslaughter. At the very least, it ought to have been both of them... or even all three of them, since Laura had known the truth and kept silent.
What had she really been after? What had Roger really been after? Had they ever been friends? Or had he just been a good time for old Jamison's 4F son, who had nothing better to do than pal around with the local riffraff?
Burke didn't know. And he wasn't expecting answers from the Collins family now; they were closing ranks already, suspicious of what he might be planning for them.
They were right to be suspicious. He wanted to gut them like a bucketful of their own fish. And he wanted to ruin Roger Collins. He wanted Roger broken, and broke. He wanted to break his smug sneering girl-stealing nose. He wanted to bend him in half over a desk and--
Burke inhaled sharply, almost choking on tobacco smoke. He remembered... and then thought better of it.
He ground out the cigarette with unnecessary force, wishing the ash tray was Roger Collins' face.
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