“Why, yes, Mr. Ramses.” His head bobbed.
“Enough to buy yourself an expensive Jag?”
Cole’s eyes opened wide. “No. It ain’t like that. You see...my cousin, the one in Baton Rouge, yeah, his name is Kevin, and he got himself in with a loan shark and well, Kevin has a few problems. He’s always short. My cousin asked me to buy that car for cheap. Cash. Practically nothing. He didn’t want the moneylender to take it.”
I took a deep breath. “Thank you, Mr. Kensington, for meeting with us today.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Ramses. I want you to know I have your back.” He turned to Jaxon. “And I’m here for you. Got any questions, just ask, man.”
My phone vibrated again.
Fucking day wouldn’t end.
“Did Mr. Boudreau give you any contact information?” Noah asked.
“No.”
Cole’s answer came too fast. Per our protocol, his and Jaxon’s phone and guns were confiscated prior to their entrance to my inner office. It didn’t matter what code or form of security Cole had on his phone or if he’d deleted his messages from Boudreau, my men could crack it.
I had three of the best hackers and technology wizards. And unlike Cole, they hadn’t let me down—yet.
I looked over at Noah and offered a quick nod.
This conversation was done.
The verdict was in.
We’d learn whatever else we needed through Cole’s phone and after a sweep of his apartment. This message would also go out on loudspeaker. I took a quick glance at Jaxon who was doing his best to appear competent enough as a leader to be present at this meeting.
It was a good thing Cole wasn’t married. Leaving some woman a widow made me feel bad—only for a second or two. Truly, the women were usually better off. If someone came on my radar who I needed to be eliminated, that person was a piece of shit to begin with. Nevertheless, no woman was about to be a widow today.
I nodded to Noah who joined us standing.
Guilty as charged.
My hand landed on Cole’s shoulder. “Come with me.”
Sentence to be carried out immediately.
“Boss?” Jaxon asked.
“You’re good where you are,” I replied.
Beneath my touch, Cole Kensington trembled. It wasn’t visible, but under my hand I felt his tremors. He wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last to react. Men—or women—in his current situation were capable of many things, and often their bodies betrayed their feigned show of strength. My goal was to get Cole out of my office, off my expensive rug, and into the kill room before he pissed himself...or vomited.
Damn, I hated vomit.
Noah pushed a button. The wall opened. It wasn’t the doorway to the outer office. No, this sliding door opened to a small room, one that was currently too dark to adequately see.
They said that truth was stranger than fiction. However, my experience was that there was a lot of truth to be found in fiction. Take the television seriesDexter,for instance. Plastic sheeting was extremely useful when containing blood splatter—or all bodily excretions.
I patted Cole’s back as he took a step ahead of us. The plastic crackled under his boots and he stopped and looked down. Flipping a switch, I revealed a room a little larger than a closet and completely covered in plastic.
“What?”
In my experience when a person feared death or retribution for their ineptitude, they either refused to see what was right in front of them or simply couldn’t compute. Eventually, they figured it out, but there was always a moment, subjective in length for each individual, when confusion obstructed their comprehension that their life was over.
Prolong that moment and it was the time begging and bartering began.