Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Kill or be killed.
Beat your enemy, before they get a chance to beat you. And don’t give that enemy anyone he can hurt you through, like a woman.
Of course, one could say that I already had a certain someone. A weakness enemies would try to exploit.
Tommy.
Still, he was my son. My flesh and blood. Giving him up might make him safer, but it would mean foster care. I couldn’t stand the thought of my boy going through the same shit we did.
The three of us had bounced around from one foster family to the next. Few of them kept us long enough for us to unpack. But that had been okay with us. When we arrived back at the group home, we had each other’s backs. We learned there was no one else we could count on.
“Yeah, baby!” Slater yelled at the woman on stage. Sometimes I envied him for the way it seemed he could turn his brain off and just enjoy the moment. My brain never shut off—not even when a gorgeous, dark-eyed beauty rode my fingers as she came for what felt like forever.
Sometime soon, I needed to talk with her. To set her straight on anything she might have thought I could offer her. But not now. Tonight, I’d be with my buddies and forget about the pretty bartender.
That was what I needed.
So why the fuck did every single woman in this joint look dull compared to her?
Julian kicked me under the table. “What the fuck is with you tonight?”
I shook my head, not wanting to get into it. Instead, I focused on the very nimble young woman who was riding the pole for all she was worth.
And failed to stop thinking about Maggie.
Another pitcher of beer arrived, compliments of the owner. We always had the best seats in the house. That was one of the perks of the jobs. Enforcers like us were vital in the organization. Wise guys had to keep them happy.
Julian turned back to the stage where Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again,” was playing from the speakers, red and green spotlights pointed at the stage. It was a spunky redhead’s turn now, and she was swirling around the pole, her feet hanging just inches over the floor.
“Shit, she has a nice ass,” Slater said. He had a fifty-dollar bill in his hand and looked eager to deliver the tip.
A waitress, who was barely wearing more than the woman on the stage, checked in on us.
“Jack. And a bucket of rocks.” Beer just wasn’t going to do it tonight.
“Thanks for suggesting this place, man,” Julian said to Slater. “I needed a distraction. I can’t forget the shit that went down in North Haven.”
Slater grinned. “For a while, I thought Rock was going to have a Frankenstein-style bolt in his neck.
Julian winced, not appearing to find that funny. “We’ve got to find Baxter,” he said.
Tension returned, and even Slater took his eyes off the acrobatic pole-dancer.
“And figure out how he knew we’d be there,” I grunted.
I made no accusation, but Julian heard one anyway. “I swear, no one followed us.”
“Maybe they didn’t need to. Maybe they already knew where we were going.”
“How?” Slater asked, and Julian pounced.
“You were so damn drunk the night before you didn’t even know your name. Someone probably overheard you.”
Rage filled Slater’s face, and the scars on his forearms looked more prominent against his white skin. “The fuck they did.”
I held up my hands. “We just need to find out what the fuck happened, not place blame.” Roselli would be more than happy to place blame whether it was deserved or not.
Slater was still pissed. “Once we find Baxter, I don’t give a shit what Roselli says. He’s not a made man. We don’t need anyone’s permission to whack him, not even Gambini’s.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Julian shared his opinion. “He had his chance to kill us. He blew it. We won’t.”
“We’re not going to whack him,” I said firmly. “We’re going to beat the shit out of him and find out who sent him.”
“And then beat the shit out of him some more,” Julian said. He got it. Slate shook his head. “Why bother? I mean, I’m all for the beatdown, but I think we know who sent him.”
It was pretty clear who he meant. “Gambini. That old fart knows how good we are. He also knows he can’t steal us from Roselli.” Even though I had no respect for Nick Roselli whatsoever, I was bound to him. We all were unless we could somehow make a grand escape.
Julian shook his head, looking at the nearest stripper without appearing to really see her. “Which sucks. Gambini is a much better Don than Nick will ever be. He’s more like Emilio was.”
I bristled at that. No one had been like Emilio. But it was true that Gambini was a better man than Roselli. It wouldn’t take much.