Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Leon deflates, then looks at Frank. Suddenly, he seems younger and terrified.
I do my part to sell the act, averting my eyes as I approach the table. I talk to Frank in a small voice. “I’ve got the video.” I slide the phone across the desk.
When I press play, Frank leans forward and watches it. He does one hell of an acting job. The more the video plays, and he hears Tweedledum and Tweedledee doing their mobbed-up routine, the angrier his face becomes. He contorts his features. He looks ready to kill. When it’s done, he stands, grabs a mug, and throws it through the window. The smash makes Martin gasp aloud. Leon looks around in panic.
Frank should get an Oscar. He stands with his back turned, breath heaving. Finally, he turns. He walks right up to Leon and kneels, staring him in the eye. Leon cringes away.
“This is Cartel country,” Frank snarls. “If we were back east, I’d have my boys drag you outside. One bullet each. Right to the back of the heads. I’d throw you in a goddamn pit. It would be easy, but you fucking rats aren’t worth the heat.”
Leon looks almost relieved, but then Frank goes on. “Not for me, anyway, but I’ve got a buddy in the Cartel. He can operate in these parts. I’m putting a hit out. If you’re not a made man and act like one, that’s a no-go. That’s the end of the line. If I were you, fellas, I’d pack a bag. Not that it will make a goddamn difference.”
Frank stands, calmly walks around the desk and shakes my hand. When he walks toward the door, the other two men follow. I feel Michael looking at me as if wondering where they’re going, but they don’t need to be here anymore. The fear is enough.
Frank really hammers the point home. At the door, he stops and turns. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your day, Leon Reynolds and Martin Blackwood.” Then he reads out their social security numbers and their addresses. With each word, Leon and Martin look less and less like the big, bad wolves they think they are.
When the so-called mob car pulls away, Leon bolts to his feet. He looks like he’s going to act tough, but Martin slaps him hard across the back of the head. “Idiot. Get moving, now.”
“But—”
“This is the mob. We’re done. It’s over.”
They rush for the door and speed away in their car. Michael runs to the window and then turns to me. His mouth is wide open. After a moment, he smiles semi-deliriously. It’s like it’s all catching up with him in one moment. I’m familiar with the feeling. It’s one thing I try to train for—being in the moment, focused, active, aware when it matters.
“Do you think they’ll really stay clear?” Michael asks.
“Frank and the guys are on my payroll for the next few days. They’re going to follow them. Park outside their apartments and freak them out.”
Michael frowns.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing, nothing,” he says. “It’s just… Won’t they do this to other people now?”
I sigh darkly. “I don’t know. Maybe they will. I hope not.”
I wasn’t thinking about that. Just my family. Just Michael. But he’s right. It would’ve been better if those scumbags ended up in jail.
“I should see about the window,” Michael murmurs. “Clear up the glass.”
“I’ll help.”
We sweep up the glass from where Frank threw the mug. Then I wrap a towel around my fist and clear the rest from the frame. Michael cleans up inside while I go outside to get more glass and the mug. I kneel and pick up the mug. I stare at it with a lump forming in my throat.
World’s Greatest Dad, written in clumsy, childish lettering. Michael peers through the window. “That was Emma when she was five. Is it broken?”
I clear my throat. “N-no.”
“That’s my most valuable possession,” he says.
“I can see why.”
I go back inside and place the mug on the desk. Maybe this is the moment I’ll tell him. I know I should wait for Emma, but…
My cell phone starts ringing. I take it out and see a missed call from the symbol at the top of the screen, but I can’t tell from whom. Frank is calling me now.
“Hear that, Mr. Ice?” Frank says, laughing. He must be holding his phone up. I can hear sirens. “Your boys thought it would be a good idea to rob a liquor store before they made their run for it. Luckily, we were tailing them. We managed to stop them, but not before they fully implicated themselves. They’ll be doing time for this.”
“That’s good to hear,” I say.
“Oh, please tell Mr. Ferrier I’m sorry about the window. We’ll pay for the damages. Got carried away there.”
“It worked. Got them hyped up enough to commit another crime.”