Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Rage quivers through me, my muscles becoming taut, ready to snap and explode at any second.
“Drugs,” I growl. “Heroin among them. On my turf. Without my permission. I need to know where you’re storing them. Before you answer, think, Maury. Fucking think. It could be the last thing you ever say.”
“You’ve never killed a Family member before,” he whimpers.
He’s right. I don’t like putting people in the ground, full stop, but that doesn’t mean I’ve never done it. Granted, every man I’ve killed has been beyond redemption, the sick fucks who do twisted things to children, the pathetic weasels who take from women what they won’t give willingly.
“There’s a first time for everything,” I snap. “So start talking.”
He makes to take his glass of whiskey from the table.
I shake my head, and immediately his hand drops into his lap.
“The new builds,” he says, his voice quivering.
I drop onto my haunches, staring him directly in the eyes. His gaze flitters all over the place. It lands anywhere but on me. He won’t even look me in the damn eye.
“You’re telling me that you’re storing hard drugs in homes I’m selling to families, to civilians,” I say slowly.
“I’m s-sorry,” he whimpers.
He has no self-respect, to be on the verge of weeping like this.
I’m glad that I’ve kept him low on the hierarchy of the Family.
And yet there’s a piece of me – a piece I keep hidden from the world – that aches for Maury. We grew up together. We used to fish together as boys. We did everything together once upon a time.
“Do you have any idea what would happen if the men found out about this?” I snap.
He cringes, nodding like a cowed pet.
I don’t have to say anything else. He knows that if my loyal army discovered his treachery, he’d at the very least have to flee the country and pray that no Cameno man ever found him.
“Who helped you?” I say.
He looks up at me. There’s a flicker there of the man he used to be, a little fight entering his crestfallen eyes.
“Nobody,” he says. “I did it alone. I mean, I used some street kids, but they’re not Family men. They’ve got nothing to do with us.”
I nod. I already knew as much. I just wanted to see if he’d lie to me.
“What am I supposed to do with you?” I growl, my temples pulsing, sending tension surging through me.
“Let me go with a slap on the wrist?” he says, with a shadow of the old boyish smile that was once his trademark.
I turn away to hide my smirk. It’s too easy to get drawn into the back-and-forth with Maury, even after the way he’s let himself degrade over the years. I remember him as a kid full of ambition and flair.
But the day I beat him and won the right to lead the Family, something broke in him.
It’s sad, fine, but it’s also damn pathetic.
A man should have more resolve than that.
“I’m putting you on house arrest until this is cleaned up,” I tell him. “With no drugs. No booze.”
“What?” Maury says.
Real panic enters his voice. He’s been a cowed coward throughout the whole exchange, and now that I’ve mentioned the possibility of taking away some of his precious drugs, he’s going to kick up a fuss.
I have to clench my fists hard to fight the urge to strike him.
“Goddamn it, Maury,” I snarl, wheeling on him with fury lancing through my body. “Listen to yourself. You sound like you’re about to break down into tears because you can’t get high. House arrest. No drugs. No booze. And count yourself lucky.”
He deflates into his seat when he gauges my anger. Even the men closest to me know better than to push me when my anger flares like this.
“What will you tell the men?” he murmurs. “You said so yourself if you told them about the drugs, I’d be dead within a week.”
I sigh and run a hand through my hair.
“I’ll tell them you’ve become a danger to yourself. I’ll tell them you’re a drug addict and this is for your own good.”
“And make me look like a loser who can’t control himself?” he protests.
I bite down another response. That’s not how he looks.
That’s what he is.
“And, because we’re old friends, I’m going to handle these drug shipments myself.”
“What, you’re going to sell them?”
My hand strays to the golden letter opener on the desk. I pick it up and press it into my opposite forefinger, idly twisting it, glaring at him as the sharp edge pricks my skin, and a bloom of red rises and drips.
“Never ask me if I’m going to deal drugs again,” I warn him. “Never fucking say that. I’m going to get rid of them. I can’t believe you did this, Maury. I really did think better of you.”