Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“How did the interview go?” Cameron asks. “I haven’t heard from Bonnie.”
I swallow, rare guilt touching me. With some distance from her, I can see I may have acted rashly, but I can’t bring myself to let her go. The thought of releasing my woman is plain wrong.
“Excellent,” I reply. “She’s going to be my live-in maid. You won’t need to worry about your rent or bills.”
“Live-in maid?” Cameron says. “That wasn’t part of the plan.”
I shift awkwardly in my chair. I’m supposed to be hard, closed off from any softness, but I can hear the panic in Cameron’s voice.
“It works better this way. I’ll take care of her. Don’t worry.”
“Why isn’t her cellphone working?”
I read it in his tone, the implication.
“I’d never hurt a woman,” I snarl, “and I’d especially never hurt Bonnie.”
“I know you’d never hurt a woman,” he replies, “but that doesn’t change the fact I need to speak with her.”
“Come for dinner at the house one day,” I say, knowing I can’t let them speak before I’ve convinced Bonnie of our story. She needs to agree to be my live-in maid.
“Swear on Isla’s grave that Bonnie is safe.”
“I swear,” I say instantly. “I’d never hurt her.”
Cameron sighs down the phone. “She needs to text me at least or leave me a message. This is suspicious, Blake.”
“I’ll speak to her when I get home. I’m heading to a meeting right now.”
“Ah, a meeting,” Cameron says, judgment in his voice.
“I’m not giving control of the city to the Italians,” I tell him, “so they can run their drugs, sex-trafficked women, and protection rackets. No more legitimate businesses. No more Kilts keeping the city safe. Is that what you’d prefer?”
He hangs up, leaving me to stew in my anger with Cameron’s hypocrisy. The life is too good for him, despite the fact it keeps the city safer.
I grit my teeth, stare out the window, and think of Bonnie.
Enzo and I sit across from each other in the corner of the fast-food joint. At nearby tables, our men sit, talking quietly, ready to leap into action if either Enzo or I do something stupid.
Enzo’s a young man, full of jittering energy. He has slick, shiny black hair, a golden tooth winking every time he shows his teeth, a gold watch on his wrist, and a dark blue suit that probably costs more than most people’s rent.
He always stands out because he’s an inch or so taller than me and just as wide.
“The attacks need to stop,” I tell him.
He grins tightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Really? An amateur line like that?
“We’ve got you and your men on camera, Enzo. Don’t play games.”
He flinches, sitting back. “Well, shit.”
“What are you thinking?” I growl. “No matter what else is true of him, your father did well setting up the betting businesses. The Italians have been doing well from those for years. Why risk all that?”
“Do you really have to ask that?” Enzo snaps. “The balls on you, Scotsman, talking about my father. I’ve been waiting since I was a kid to take over the Italians.”
“But you’re not the leader,” I remind him. “Massimo is. You’ve gathered a few wild men to do some foolish things. It won’t end well for you. I’m giving you a chance because, luckily, you haven’t injured anyone yet. Back down. Pay us for the damages. Go back to your legitimate businesses.”
“Or what?” he says, his voice trembling.
He hasn’t lived long enough in this world to hide his fear. He hasn’t stalked through the night with a gun in hand, prepared to inflict whatever damage is necessary to keep the business ticking along.
“You know what. We’ll be forced to go to war. Men will die. Innocents will die. In the end, you’ll lose. I’ve got far more firepower. This is a silly game.”
Enzo slams his fist on the table. Suddenly, men leap to their feet, causing the other food-court customers to turn and stare at us. I gesture to Malcolm and my men, and they sit down. After a pause, Enzo does the same.
He stares at me for a long time without speaking. “Talking about my dad isn’t the way to make me stop. He was a good man.”
As a leader, I’ve learned to force away things that might lead me to trouble. I can’t tell Enzo what I think about his insane statement, not after what Enzo’s father did.
“It’s all ancient history,” I snarl. “We need to focus on the now. Our men’s finances, their families, their mortgages. More boys will lose more fathers if we go down this road.”
“Maybe I’m fine with that,” Enzo says. “Maybe that’s the way it has to be.”
I sit up in my chair, leaning forward. Enzo tries to keep his tough-guy act going, but he can’t hide the quiver in his lips. His eyes flit left and right as though searching for an escape. I keep staring at him, letting him read the murderous intent in me, the willingness to end him if it comes to it.