“Get the fuck on with it, Detective.”
“I can’t keep covering for you. This...this...tonight I mean. It isn’t going to go away so easily.”
“If you wanted more money why didn’t you just say so."
I take out another hefty envelope full of one-hundreds.
“You’re the lead detective on the case?”
He nods.
“The police chief is your brother-in-law?”
Another nod.
I unclip my holster and sit my piece on the desk, making a distinctive move to flick the safety off. “Then I don’t see the problem, Detective. You’ll do what you need to keep our deal balanced, right?”
Drake slides into the office silently. He doesn’t need to say much when the look on his grim face conveys the message.
The Detective turns back to me, face chalk white. His gun hand grips the tumbler still half full of top-shelf liquor. He’s let his training go. Grown lax. Pathetic, really, but it’s those details that make him valuable to us.
“Okay. Ward. But clean up your act. I’ll have a couple of good men take care of the bodies. But this is where I draw the line.”
I set my gun over the envelopes and ease my weight onto the corner of my desk.
“I draw the lines. No one else. Are you and I clear on that?”
Whether he is or not, it doesn’t matter. What I say goes. Chicago is my city and I make damn sure no one steps out of any lines.
The detective throws back the whiskey with a wince and stands.
“See yourself out. I’ll trust you to come up with a story as to why there are three of Kane’s men dead in the alley behind my club before the news makes their morning rotation. Your son will appreciate all your best efforts.” My words hang between us a moment before he stands and mumbles something about fucking mobsters.
I watch him leave, head down, shoulders slouched. Like a man defeated by life. I take ownership of the partial hell the man lives in, but no one told him to get in bed with me or take my money.
People make their choices. And should be held accountable for them in life and whatever comes along after we check out. I know I sure the fuck will when it comes my turn.
I stand with the bank of monitors in front of me, a glass of water in hand not really seeing the erotic shows playing out. Everywhere I turn my gaze, instead of seeing random women taking on multiple partners in an array of positions, I see her. Those expressive eyes of hers, hear her sassy voice.
I feel Drake come up behind me. His silent presence reassuring. For over three decades he and Grey have been at my side. We grew up together. Me the son of a father who had nothing. From a young age I knew poverty in my family would end with me. I wanted a life where I controlled all the outcomes. Only money made that happen. So I built it. From the ground up. With the help of loyal friends. Partners. In more ways than one. To the outside world we were killers. The devils of Chicago. Rich. Corrupt. Unapologetic in every way.
I learned at the knee of my father that the eye sees goes a long way to persuade the heart and minds of others. I doubt he meant for me to apply that to my way of life, but it is what it is.
Organized crime isn’t synonymous with low-life thugs running around like some street gang. I run a professional outfit that requires a level of trust that goes both ways. I might be a killer in the eyes of society if my past was to ever come to light, but I’m also fair. I take care of my own and we never want for anything. It’s the way my father taught me and a life lesson I plan on passing down the line when we have sons of our own.
If we have sons of our own. Katriona is key to that ever happening for the three of us. If she takes us. I know we’re a long way off from getting her to take men who have wanted nothing else for longer than I care to admit.
“You knew she would run the first chance she had. Why are we not out there right now hunting her down?”
I nod, not bothering to turn around. “I did know she would run. She was smart to have run from us, and we’re not hunting her down, as you say, because we have to make sure our friend doesn’t die. And Marcus. He's waiting for us to do exactly that. The last thing I want to do is lead him to her when we are a man down.”
“Yeah, fuck, sorry. We just…It’s killing me inside not having her here. And Grey...” Drake scrubs a hand over his face, looking older than his thirty-nine years. This kind of life tends to shave off a few years if you let it. “Did you feel the way she took to us? There was a connection I've never felt before, man, and it scares the shit out of me. We all felt it. The way she kissed each of us.”
“I felt it too.”
“She has a fire that is unmatched by anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Still think she’s the one?”