Isit in the office at the club, a bottle of whiskey keeping me company. Twenty monitors covering the wall usually display the feed from cameras all around Delta but now stream a clip of Layla and me at the bar two weeks ago.
How did I get so fucking hooked on this girl after spending two evenings with her? How’s that possible?
Well, I’m a living example that it’s very much possible.
My laptop’s speakers repeatedly blast one song—“One Way Or Another.” Layla’s favorite. I’ve listened to it non-stop for two weeks; ninety percent of my time is spent thinking about her smiles, kisses, and how crazy she makes me. Thinking of ways to convince her to give us a try. Ten percent is spent convincing myself I should let her be.
Spades enters the office with Nate around midnight.
“We’ve got a problem.” Nate plops down on the sofa.
As if I don’t have enough fucking problems.
“What is it this time?”
“FBI busted three of our guys in a raid.” He rubs his face, exchanging a knowing look with Spades. “They hit our warehouse and confiscated two containers.”
Spades rests his elbows on his knees. “They knew the container numbers, Dante. They knew where to go, and they knew what the fuck to look for.”
“If they knew, someone must’ve tipped them off.” I light a cigarette, turning around to dim the monitors. “Any suspicions?” They shake their heads. “Who did the FBI take?”
“Gareth, Newton, and Phil. They’re in temporary arrest for now, but Jackson called our lawyer, so—”
“Get rid of them.”
“All three? Dante, Gareth knew the risks. He won’t talk. You’re paying him too fucking much.”
“CallHoward,” I emphasize. “You can spare Gareth at your own risk, but an obituary is all that’s to be left after Monday for Newton and Phil.”
Howard is one of our many acquaintances. His men are scattered around major prisons throughout America, ready to kill anyone for the right money. I’ve used his services more than once in the past. He’s not cheap, but neither is freedom. My freedom is priceless, just like the freedom of Spades, Nate, and all my most trusted men.
Nate glances at Spades, probably looking for support, but Spades knows there’s no arguing with me. He motions his chin, urging Nate to make the call.
“Aren’t you overreacting?” he asks once Nate leaves the room. My distracted mind is the only reason he dares to question my choices.
“They’ll get a minimum of ten years. At some point, they’ll start talking. You’re going down first when they do, and then it’s Nate.”
I won’t risk it. Nate and Spades are like my brothers. We started this together, and we’ll retire together.
My phone’s ringtone stops our conversation. I smile whenStarflashes on the screen. “You missed me?”
The hastened clicking of heels and Layla’s uneven breaths are the only answer. I think her phone pocket-dialed my number, but uncharacteristic worry blooms in my mind, and my muscles tense like a guitar string. I call her back only to reach the answering machine. I jump to my feet, dialing over again, my mind like a nest of pissed-off rattlesnakes. I don’t have the slightest idea where she might be, but I’ve got a plan at the ready regardless.
I don’t knowwhatis wrong, but somethingisdefinitely fucking wrong. I can feel it in my bones.
“Hey,” Layla answers, halting me halfway to the door. She sounds upset, frightened, fuckingtearful, and that distressed quality to her voice flips my stomach.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing now,” she whimpers, sucking in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry I called, but Adam wasn’t answering, and neither was Frank, and I don’t have Burly’s number, and...” She exhales again as if trying not to cry. “I ran into two junkies on Riverdale.”
I squeeze my neck with a trembling hand.
Anxiety rages inside my overworked, tired mind filling up with an array of dark scenarios. “Tell me you’re okay, baby.”
“I’m okay,” she utters unconvinced, close to tears again. “Luca was in the right place at the right time.”
I let out a shaky breath, a touch calmer that one of my men is looking over her. “Let me talk to him.”