Julian dragged a fry through a blob of ketchup. “I don’t know. Everything I have is in the cartel’s name. My car is leased through them, the apartment, everything. Enforcers are probably on their way.”
“Enforcers?”
“The old man is dead, but there’s still a hierarchy. They will send people to get explanations. If they don’t like those explanations, they’ll exact justice. I don’t want to take that chance.”
“You’re kinda fucked, dude.” My mouth twitched.
Julian glared. “I wasn’t aware.”
I almost felt sorry for the guy. He looked a bit like I felt. Beat up and worn down. Julian sat back and rubbed his belly in satisfaction.
“I was done with the cartel. Was getting out, which is hard to do if you want to stay alive. This was a hell of a way to go about it.”
Abraham had slid onto the seat next to me. “I’d say you’re pretty much out now.”
Julian nodded. “I’m pretty much dead now. I saved enough to form a legit LLC and bought the hotel, but that’s a bust.”
“Wait. You’re Westridge Unlimited?” I asked.
Julian nodded. “Eskridge, Westridge. Yeah, that’s my LLC. I needed a nest egg. The hotel was a decent price and low end enough to stay under the radar. Doesn’t matter now. I can’t stay in town.”
“Cobb will figure something out with the feds. We should hear from him sometime today.” Abraham’s voice was reassuring.
I soaked in the conversation. “Maybe we can make a deal. All we need is a couple of signatures from you, and we can get some renovations done. The city won’t condemn it.”
Julian shook his head. “Not if the guys from Jersey open my safe. They’ll find the deed there. And—”
“They’ll come have a look around, seize the property for themselves,” I finished for him. “Yeah, that’s kind of a problem. You gonna eat those fries?”
«±»
This was great news. Well, not so much for the Mafia dude, but we could get the renovations going and the hotel open. I’d get my place back. The first person I wanted to tell, of course, was Regge. But I wasn’t ready to open that door. What I needed was time away, far away. From all the ghosts and hotels and body switching and thoughts of a six-foot, green-eyed man with an accent. I pressed number three in my contact list.
“Okay, what’s wrong?” Marjorie Hunter had a voice like a fifty-year smoker, though she’d never touched tobacco. My shoulders immediately relaxed at the sound.
“No, Ma. Everything’s fine. I just haven’t talked to you in a while.”
“Right. Since when do you call me this early?”
“Can’t a son call his mother for no reason?”
“Don’t you lie to me, Elliot Bruce Hunter, I know every tone you have, and this is your I-need-help tone.”
I sighed. “Wow, Ma, full naming me already? That’s harsh. I… Well, okay, yeah, so there was this incident and some people, er, friends needed a place to stay so I kind of gave up my place at Izzy’s for a while.”
“Oh, you are such a good boy, such a good-hearted boy. A little stupid, giving up your place for people you barely know. But still, it was a kind thing to do. Are you staying at Izzy’s then? Tell her I said hi.”
“No. Actually, Izzy and Theo are in New York. But her house is full too. There were a lot of people in need of a place.”
“So where are you staying?”
“Abraham offered.” I hedged.
“What about the nice English boy you like?”
“Regge’s place is not an option.”
“Oh no. What did you do, Bruce?”
