Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“Did any of the jobs fuck someone over?”
“Almost every job fucks someone over in some way or another. Someone else always wants what we end up getting.”
“True,” I agreed. “But that was a lot of violence. Like they were told to make you suffer first.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, eyes going sad.
I didn’t want to push her, knowing how quick she was to throw up her walls when she felt defensive. So I just followed her around as she talked to neighborhood crews and contacts in local businesses.
A few people thought that Chet looked familiar but couldn’t place why.
Drake, the dealer I’d talked to outside of Cinna’s building, had been the only one to look at the picture with a raised brow. “Never saw him. Now I guess I never will,” he added with a knowing look.
“Can I ask your scouts?” she asked, nodding toward the kids on the block, some riding bikes, others just seemingly hanging out.
“Whatever knocks your socks off, ma. But it’ll prolly cost ya.”
“I’m almost out of cash,” Cinna admitted, having already bribed half a dozen people to get information out of them.
“I got enough to bribe some kids,” I said, underestimating just what hustlers children their age could already be.
But we’d lucked out on kid three, my last several twenties tucked in his pocket as he slowly circled us on his bike.
“I’ve seen him,” the kid said, seeming to enjoy having the power, wanting us to ask for every bit of information.
“Where? When? With who?” Cinna asked, trying to be patient which was, admittedly, not her strong suit.
“Last night, maybe?” he said, pausing in his circles. “Saw him get outta a car.”
“Any chance you know your cars?” I asked.
“Black one,” the kid said with a smirk. This was the city, after all. Most kids who grew up here would never have a reason to get a license or drool over cars.
“Who was in it?”
“That guy. Another one driving. And a lady riding passenger.”
“A lady?” Cinna and I asked in unison.
“What did she look like?” Cinna asked, and I could see her gears turning, trying to figure out what woman she might have wronged in a deal. Which was likely a much smaller pool of possibilities than if it had all been men.
“Brown hair. Old, like you,” the kid said, making Cinna let out a surprised scoff.
“That’s me. One foot in the fucking grave,” she said, shaking her head. “What about the driver? Anything stand out about him?”
“Looked like everyone else,” the kid said, shrugging. “But the lady was yelling at him before they pulled off, leaving the other guy here. Never saw him come out.”
“Any chance you’d recognize them or the car if you saw them again?”
“Maybe.”
“And if I asked you to call me if you saw them…”
“Drake don’t let us work for anyone else,” he said, getting back on his bike and letting out a surprisingly loud whistle for such a small kid.
“It’s something,” I said to Cinna who stood there looking defeated.
“Is it?” she asked. “I haven’t done a deal with a woman. She could be anyone. A daughter or wife of someone whose business I ran down. Someone related to a guy I had beat up or killed. This doesn’t narrow it down much.”
“It’s more information than we had this morning,” I reminded her, but her shoulders stayed tense. “How about we go back to your place for some food? Toss some ideas around?”
I saw the battle on her face as it waged.
Part of her didn’t want to spend any more time with me than necessary, was worried about not being able to keep the wall up with more time spent together. The other part, though, and I watched as it started to win, wanted my company.
“Fine. Then go ask around your crew,” she said, drawing a line in the sand. You’re not staying the night.
We headed back to her apartment, and I stood there as she worked all her locks free before moving inside and jerking back into me.
“Sorry. You left me the keys…” Joel said, sitting on the couch with his new tablet on his lap, his headphones around his neck.
“No, it’s fine. I just… you surprised me. You remember Dav,” she said, absentmindedly waving toward me. “Don’t start,” she added, shooting the kid a pointed look that made me feel left out.
“Dav,” Joel said, inclining his chin at me. “Any chance your nickname is The Bloody?”
“I swear to god, kid,” Cinna snapped, pointing a menu at him.
But Joel was still smiling to himself, unbothered by her tone. I guess when you had parents like his, who I could hear through the walls a few apartments away, you weren’t fazed by a little attitude. Besides, he was clearly goading her, even if I didn’t understand the reference.
“We’re ordering food,” she said. “What do you want?” she asked, bringing him the menu.