Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
From there, I’d met up with Miko, who seemed to me hadn’t gotten a fucking wink of sleep, but he looked showered and dressed in a fresh suit regardless.
“How’d the hospital go?”
“Trying to make Venezio do anything is like wrangling a fucking honey badger,” he said. “Even without use of his fucking leg, he was a nightmare,” he added. “But we got him in there for a scan. And, sure enough, he’s got a hairline fracture in his tibia. They casted him. He’s pissed as fuck about it.”
“I bet,” I agreed. I’d been laid up with a broken leg just once, back when I was a teenager. I’d been so over it just three weeks in, that I’d found someone to saw the damn thing off for me.
I’d probably be aching to high hell in my old age, but at least I’d managed to get back to my hustle sooner than the doctors thought.
“Did they happen to scan his ribs too?” I asked.
“Yeah. He’s got one break. The others are just bruised. He’s wrapped up with elastic bandages and under strict orders—from both the hospital and Salvatore—to keep his ass as immobile as possible.”
“How much you wanna bet that shit ain’t happening?” I asked.
“Figured you’d want to drop in to see for yourself,” Miko said, holding the car door open for me.
“Yeah. Then we gotta go see Lorenzo again,” I said.
I climbed in, taking my phone out of my pocket, and placing a breakfast order for Halle, then texting one of the guards to go pick it up when it arrived.
Venezio was just an associate in the organization. So I wasn’t surprised when Miko parked on a block full of almost identical apartment buildings.
Nothing in the city was cheap.
But he wasn’t paying much for his place, judging by the location and building that didn’t even have a locking front door.
“Fifth floor,” Miko said. “Elevator is busted.”
“How the fuck did you get him upstairs?” I asked, brows raising.
“It wasn’t fun. Especially since he can’t really use crutches either.
“Christ,” I grumbled, starting up with Miko.
The stairwell was filthy, scattered with scraps of garbage, and even a discarded fucking heroin needle.
“There’s kids in this fucking building,” Miko grumbled, picking up the needle carefully by the edge, and sticking it inside a discarded soda bottle, screwing the top on tight, and bringing it up with us until we passed a garbage shoot to toss it down. “Here,” he said when we finally made it in front of an apartment door, the number askew.
“You have a key?” I asked as Miko fished one out of his pocket.
“Only because I stole his to make one,” Miko admitted, sticking the key in the lock, and pushing the door open.
Venezio’s apartment looked like he’d been robbed.
Meaning there was hardly fucking anything in it.
Nothing on the counters in the kitchen, not even a coffee maker. No end tables. No curtains or rug. And just one oversized black recliner and a TV across from it, set on top of two TV dinner tables.
Venezio himself was on said recliner, staring at the TV, but I got the impression that he wasn’t actually looking at the screen, just in that general direction.
“Steal anything else from me?” Venezio asked, glancing over in our direction.
“Yeah, ‘cause there’s anything else to steal,” Miko shot back as he set Venezio’s keychain down on the kitchen counter. “Besides, how’d you think I was supposed to move your car?” he said.
“Fair enough,” Venezio said, shrugging.
“How you holding up?” I asked.
“Fucking living the life,” he said.
“You got anyone to check in on you?” Miko asked. “A ma? Sisters? Anyone?”
“Don’t got family,” Venezio said, and Miko looked taken aback.
Coming from a big family himself, that was unfathomable to him.
“You got family,” Miko corrected him. “You got anything to eat yet today?”
“I’m fine,” Venezio insisted.
But Miko was already on his phone, ordering shit.
“How long on that leg?” I asked.
“Six weeks, give or take,” Venezio said, exhaling hard.
“Alright,” I said, reaching for my wallet.
“What’re you doing?” he asked, watching me grab a stack of cash.
“You’re outta commission for six weeks because of me. You’re losing money because of me. I owe you a salary.”
“I don’t take shit for nothing.”
“It’s not for nothing,” I said, holding out the stack until he took it. “You earned it. So shut the fuck up about it,” I suggested.
To that, Venezio’s lips twitched slightly.
“Fine,” he said, tucking it into his pocket.
I moved over toward Miko, finding him just hanging up.
“You mind doing Lorenzo’s by yourself?” he asked. “He can’t function in this place,” he said, waving around.
Leave it to Miko to rush in and take charge.
“That’d be good. If he overdoes it, it will just take him longer to heal.”
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“Fucking stubborn ass.”
“So, I’m hearing you like him,” Miko said, smirking.
“I do,” I agreed. “Alright. Let me know when you’re done here,” I said. “Venezio, I’ll be in touch within a week,” I told him as I made my way out of the door.