Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“What’d you mean then?”
“That you’re going to fire us.”
“Fire them, not you.”
“They’re not going to go for that.”
“Don’t see how they have much of a choice here. I’m the one with the money, ain’t I?”
“Look, you’re trying to be rational. They’re not rational. All they’re thinking is that they don’t want me doing this job.”
“Too fucking bad.” Her head hit the rest, her eyes closing. Frustrated. Looking for some patience. Something like that. To that, I let out a sigh. “Aight. What about a compromise?”
“What kind of compromise?”
“I go to your boys, we have a little chat.”
“A chat? About what?”
“About how when I say I want someone on my case, I expect that person working my case.”
“I am on the case.”
“Yeah, well, you need to be getting paid for it.”
“What do you care? I’m here. I’m working on it.”
Honestly, it was a good question. The problem was, I had no fucking answer to it. At least not one that made any solid sense.
If she was working the case—and, clearly, she was—then why the fuck did I care if she was making money for it or not?
I couldn’t say.
It just bothered me on principle.
But it didn’t feel like the right move to tell her that.
“The way I see it, if you’re only working my job after work—“
“And before,” she said.
“And before,” I agreed, wondering when the woman had a chance to sleep and eat and have a life. “Then you’re not giving it one hundred percent. I want one hundred percent from you.”
“I am barely working anything else,” she told me.
“What’s barely? What else you on?”
“The usual. Catching a cheater. It’s an open case, but it’s easy enough work.”
“Yeah? Well, when you finish it, you’re on my case. And my case only. I’ll make that clear to your boys.”
“A, wait,” she demanded, making me turn back to look at her.
“Yeah?”
“Just…” she started, looking out the dash and shaking her head. “Never mind.”
“I won’t make shit harder for you,” I told her.
With that, I climbed out, making my way down the street, and dipping into the bar.
“Where you go, man?” Marco asked, jerking his chin up at the bartender who moved to make me a Four Horseman like the rest of them were drinking.
We usually met up at Redemption, the local bar in Navesink Bank that was frequented by other local criminal organizations.
Tonight, though, I wanted to see my men in a different element, wanted to know if I could see something different in them if we weren’t in our usual space.
“Did you hear about that crackdown yesterday?” Luis asked. “Over in South Jersey?”
“Nah, haven’t been paying attention,” I admitted. “What happened?”
“Feds raided a crew selling Funeral Makers.”
“Yeah? How’d they get ‘em?” I asked.
We didn’t cut our shit with that crap. Regular heroin was hard enough. And in my business, a live client was the only kind of client you wanted.
“Three girls working for the same restaurant OD’d on their lunch break. They traced it back to that crew. Dragged everyone in.”
“Anyone we know?” I asked, though, as a whole, I tried to operate alone. Connections led to betrayals and prison sentences.
Still, as careful as I was, I clearly still managed to have a snake in my organization.
“Nah. Low-level shit.”
“The girls live?”
“Just barely.”
“Lucky, considering,” I said.
“You think it means the law is cracking down more?” Luis asked.
“They always are,” I agreed.
It was never going to be a safe business to be in. Just profitable. And with those profits came a fuckuva lot of risk. If you were going to be a boss, you had to accept that shit.
You were always at risk of getting dragged in.
All it might take was a new law, a new district attorney, a new chief of police.
Or, of course, a fucking traitor.
Which was why it was important to coax those snakes out and chop off their heads before they got a chance to do too much talking.
Swift and ruthless punishment for betrayal was the only way you stayed out of cuffs, out of cells.
And my ass was going to stay free. Whatever it takes.
Even if it meant looking sideways at guys like Luis and Marco, men I’d known my whole fucking life.
It was lonely at the top.
“You’re not worried?” Luis asked.
“Always worried. That’s how you stay in business.”
Luis was quiet for a minute, then threw back his drink. “Marco is trying to convince everyone to hit up the titty bar after this,” he said. “You coming?”
“Nah man. That ain’t my style,” I said, shrugging.
“Yeah, mine either. But someone’s gotta keep an eye on these fucks.”
“Have fun for me, yeah?” I asked, grabbing my drink, and getting up, walking around, being social, while trying to see who might be looking at me sideways, being colder than usual.
In the end, though, I had fucking nothing.
I couldn’t tell if my radar was on the fritz or if my snake was just that fucking good, but I was happy to know that I had Hope on the case.