Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“I got your message, but I can’t do what you’re asking,” he hissed under his breath, tugging at the collar of his shirt.
I reveled in his discomfort. ”You know, Hector, I’m a busy man. But I came here in person to speak with you.”
“I can’t—”
I unfastened the button of my jacket, allowing it to fall open and reveal the leather chest holster and pistol strapped beneath my arm. “You can, and you will.”
The man’s brows crumpled, and he glared at me. “Or what? I’m the DA. You’re not going to kill me in my own office.” He tried to sound confident, but the slight waver in his voice combined with the sweat dotting his brow told me otherwise. “I only have to say the word and all your shipments would be seized. I could fuck you over, too, Guerra.”
I let out a sigh. “What a shame. You know, I thought you might have taken heed of your predecessor’s demise.” I smiled, and he blanched.
The unfortunate former DA had become entwined with “local gangs” and had been tortured and hung from the Canal Street Bridge, according to reports.
“But you’re right. If I kill you, I have to start all over again with a new DA. And what if he’s not a dirty, greedy bastard who can be bought like you?”
Jackson laughed.
“Last chance, Hector. What will it be?”
The man’s jaw ticced, his face turning an ugly shade of red. “No,” he said, like a defiant, petulant child.
A long sigh came from behind me, and Jackson shook his head as he moved beside me and held out his phone.
A video call was already connected to one of his soldiers, the man waiting on my cue. “Just remember, I gave you the chance to be reasonable, Hector, and you pushed me.” I took the phone and turned the screen so he could see it, right before the soldier panned the camera around to show a children’s play park. Kids ran around, so blissful in their innocence. Hector’s children played with their nanny, the young woman smiling and pushing his son on the swings, so unaware of the danger lurking nearby in the form of one of my men.
I watched the sheer horror play over Hector’s features. Perfect. He tugged at his tie, face paling to a sickly shade of gray. And I knew he suddenly realized that in his world, he held a degree of power but we were not the same. In my world, I was absolute, and I would do things without blinking that he wouldn’t even consider. And the second he took my money? Well, that set him firmly in my world, with my boot on his fucking neck. This was his introduction to said boot.
“No. They’re just children.” He shook his head, unable to tear his gaze from the camera. “Please.”
“Tsk, tsk.” I pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of my jacket and slid it in front of him. “Children are a weakness, are they not? So innocent.” And if he didn’t want to put them at risk, then he never should have sold his soul to me.
“You’re disgusting,” he spat.
I cut the call before handing the phone back to Jackson. “You didn’t seem to think so when you were taking my money. Now, inside that envelope is a ten grand bonus and a list of mob shipments that will be arriving in Chicago over the next two weeks.”
They might have a rat in my ranks, but buying one in theirs hadn’t proved too difficult. I had offered an exorbitant amount of money. Enough to risk death, apparently.
Hector picked up the envelope, swallowing heavily. “How do you know when their shipments are arriving?”
“The same way I knew you were alone in your office this morning and your children were at the park.” I pushed to my feet. “I have people everywhere, Mr. Langford.” His nanny, his secretary. People were predictable, driven by money over loyalty. “You will open a case against Patrick O’Hara and make his life very difficult. Seize their shipments, arrest their soldiers, close down his legal businesses. Pick them apart.”
He glanced down at his desk, his expression becoming pinched. “O’Hara will kill me,” he whispered.
“Well, they say a man will die for his children.”
He looked like he was planning his own funeral as I turned and left the office. I would have men watch Hector’s house and his children in case the mob thought to target them. I might make threats, but I wouldn’t actually hurt them. Despite my bloody reputation, children and innocents were my line. All men had to have one, lest we become nothing more than beasts. Nero was the one with no such line, and his reputation bled into mine until everyone associated with us was a demon in someone’s eyes. However, years as his second had taught me one thing; when it comes to those they love, people aren’t prepared to take a chance that the threat may not be real.