“Define okay.” Jen’s smile met her eyes as she huffed a laugh. “Xavier was the one to pull me out of it. Well, he marched into my apartment and threw a bucket of water over me and told me to stop feeling sorry for myself.”
I laughed softly. “I guess that works too—”
"Ah, excuse me? Am I the only one working tonight?" Xavier called over his shoulder as he mixed a drink. He looked frustrated and stressed as his eyes widened at us. "Get your ass over here, Jen! These people are animals!"
"Hold your horses!" Jen laughed before hurrying to help.
Chapter 16
Dean
Spending my evening sitting in a deserted parking lot by the East River, staring blankly ahead at the Statue of Liberty across the water, wasn't exactly how I wanted to spend my Friday night, but here I was; a handgun sitting in the front seat beside me, and my balls still tender after Murphy had smashed his knee into them last night.
I shifted in my seat, adjusting myself, and glanced down at my phone, grinding my teeth at the time. The client was late. I tossed my phone on the dash and settled in.
It wasn't uncommon for Antonio to ask one of his fighters to do a small job like this one. These jobs paid well (a little more than what we earned from our winnings) and he knew we could handle it. They were a little taste of what life could be like if he ever offered one of us the role of a soldier; a step up from what we did already. No more fighting and better job security.
And a hard pass from me. These jobs were risky enough. Which was why I planned to not get shot at again. The gun from Antonio was a precaution. He mentioned the guy I was waiting for would likely shoot himself in the foot instead of me, but the gun would still come in handy if he required a little more coaxing. Or if he decided to run.
This guy, Robert Bernardi, had avoided Antonio’s calls and failed to make payments from whatever side hustle Antonio had put him in charge of. Pocketing a hundred grand for himself, it had finally all caught up with him and now he was forced to pay it all back.
My phone buzzed on the dashboard, and I swiped it up. It was a text from Roxy wondering if I was free later. I responded with a maybe but knew I wouldn't. I didn't think my balls could handle any more pressure. After our little meeting in the bathroom on Monday, I had shown up at her apartment later that night, barely getting through the front door before she unzipped my pants and I pushed her up against the side table in her hallway.
Roxy was more of a distraction than a temptation. A distraction to get my mind off Lily. I felt responsible for Lily and blamed myself for Antonio bringing her into his crap. That was the only reason I couldn’t shake her from even the smallest places in my mind. She just stuck.
And then that guy spiked her drink.
He was just some low-life perv looking for someone vulnerable, unaware he picked the wrong person. If she had been anyone else, maybe I wouldn’t have been watching. But for some reason I found myself scanning the packed nightclub for her. A lot faster than I cared to admit. After that, I couldn’t remember crossing the room before I smashed my fist across that guy's face.
A pair of headlights flashed across my rearview mirror, pulling me out of my head as the car came to a stop behind mine. I continued to watch through my mirrors as the driver stepped out of the car with a black duffle bag in hand. He looked around nervously, patting a hand over his greasy black hair as he walked to the back of the Cadillac.
I picked up the gun and grabbed the keys from the ignition, my eyes still on him before I stepped out of the car. Tucking the gun into the back of my waistband and tugging my shirt down over it, I kept my face neutral as he shifted on his feet under my gaze. When I stopped beside the trunk of my car, he tossed the bag at my feet.
“It-it’s all there.”
I popped the hood, watching him. Inside was a cash counter, and going off the color draining from his oily face, he hadn’t expected me to have one.
I folded my arms and leaned my hip against the taillight, nodding to the machine as I said, “Wanna count it for me?”
His throat bobbed twice, eyes fixed on the machine before he took a hesitant step forward. He forced a smile onto his face, lifted the bag into the trunk, and unzipped it.
I waited and watched as he loaded each stack of one-hundred-dollar bills into the machine. The numbers on the screen gradually increased as the machine flicked through every note until he put in the last of it.
90 grand in total.
My right eyebrow raised slightly.
"L-let me count that again," he laughed nervously as he grabbed the cash to reload. "Maybe the machine is broken—"
"Put the money in the bag and get in the car,” I drawled.
"It's all there. I-I swear.” Beads of sweat were glistening on his forehead.
I rolled my head back and pulled the gun out from behind me, gesturing to the car with it. "Move.”
His expression became a little more urgent as he pressed his palms together, begging. "I'll get him the rest. I promise."
"Great. You can tell him that yourself." I brought the gun up to his temple. "Now move."
