Thirteen
Declan
Before
I was tired,and I wanted nothing more than to make my way to Aela’s place, but before I could, I had one last errand to make.
The docks, like usual, stank, and because I knew my way around them better than I knew The Cloisters, I knew where I was going with very little light.
I’d picked up a tail somewhere along the way and had taken a few corners to get free of whoever the fuck it was. We were having some beef with the NYPD thanks to the shit going on with the Haitians, so I figured it was an officer, which meant I couldn’t wait for them around a corner and beat the crap out of them, just had to lose their asses which wasn’t hard.
I’d heard the tap-tap of their feet, but all was quiet now.
This particular dealer liked to do shit in the dark, and when I said dark, I meant it. His warehouse, though small, was usually in the pitch-black until I walked in with the merch and he deigned to put a light on. He only did it, though, because of who I was.
Ah, the lauded O’Donnelly spawn… it was like being a prince in New York.
I’d take being a peasant any day of the fucking week.
As I hefted up the briefcase in my hand, grabbing the handle tighter, my boots thundered down the rain-slick sidewalk before I finally made it to the door. I didn’t like this place. It had no gate, no exterior security, but what the fuck was I supposed to do?
He sold to the celebs, and until our supply lines were in order, we needed these fucks to sell our merch. Because it was a big account, worth over two hundred thousand a month, Da sent me or Brennan along.
I tapped on the door, and a minute later, the opening gave way, sliding sideways as I stepped into it. Though I shut it behind me, I never knew whether I’d prefer to lock it or keep it open because this place was decidedly creepy.
Not that I was supposed to admit to shit like that.
The sole illumination in the pitch-black warehouse came from a puddle of light from a single overhead lamp in the center of the space. It put everything else in shadows, and my theory was the dealer was either a vampire or he had a bunch of heavies waiting in the dark to pop my ass if I dared pull a wrong move.
I understood though. I’d be cautious too, even if he had to be insane to think that I’d pull a move on him… Not all dealers were smart. Some sniffed a little too much of their own product than was wise, and I had a feeling from the way Reggie was always hopping up and down like he was a bunny fucking rabbit, he was that garden variety of dealer.
“Yo, my man,” Reggie greeted, when I finally made my way to the puddle of light.
There was a crate there, and I placed my briefcase on it before I said, “Hey, Reg, how’s it hanging?”
“Business isgooooood. You called at just the right time. I ran out last night.”
I arched a brow. “Christ, you ran out already?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his fingers together, finally stepping out of the shadows to meet me. We slapped hands together, shook them like we were brothers, then he beamed. “Might need to increase my order. Got a congressman’s daughter who likes a little too much blow than is good for her.” He jacked his dick. “Sometimes she pays in kind. Just the way I like it.”
I smiled at that even though I thought he was a prick, and replied, “Well, you just tell me what extra you need and we’ll get it to you.”
He rubbed his hands together. “Fuck, I love working with the Westies. So much more organized than those fucking Colombians.”
“Couldn’t organize a piss up in a brewery, as Da likes to say.” I always liked to drop his name because everyone, even this dumbfuck, knew to be terrified of Aidan Sr.
As expected, his smile turned nervous. “Your pop okay, man?”
“He’s doing well. Be happy to hear about the increase in your order.”
Nerves abated, Reggie grinned at me, but I saw a few beads of sweat appear at his temples. Yeah, that was the power of my father… capable of making grown men sweat.
I was too over Da’s hype though. Maybe a long time ago, I’d have felt the pressure as well, now, I was the monster he’d made me.
When I clicked open the briefcase, four two-hundred-and-fifty gram bags of coke gleamed in the lamplight.
Reggie whistled under his breath, reached into his pocket, pulled out some keys, and tore the bag open. When he dipped the tip in there then tasted it, he smacked his lips before he let out a whoop. “That’s good shit, man.”