Make-believe Don lifts his chin. “Yeah, well, I don’t like your friend’s tone, so I’m upping the cost.”
The first guy who spoke kicks the lid to the footlocker closed and points his gun toward us. The others follow suit, all tensing up.
“And what if we don’t want to pay that?” Meech asks, folding his arms over his chest.
Imitation Don licks his lips, his gaze bouncing around. He wasn’t prepared for this outcome. Which further proves he’s not a real criminal. You should always plan for every outcome.
“Then we take your money and the guns.”
The group breaks away. They approach us with their guns aimed. The second guy who spoke has his gun pressed against Ghost’s head. The five guys in the back hold their weapons up to Meech, Kaz, Salv, Rome, and Axel. The first person to speak puts the gun to my head.
“Hand over the money,” he demands.
“Or what?” I ask.
He squints, his hands shaking nervously. “I’ll blow your brains out.”
I smirk. “You don’t even believe that.”
He stares at me silently for a moment. The others are waiting for me to react. They knew I was running this shit show and would allow me to make the first move.
“I said—” I don’t let the rest of his words fall from his lips, I shove his arm with the gun in it down and then chop him in the throat. He gags and drops the gun to clutch his neck.
Kazimir pulls his knife from his inside holster and slices the arm of the guy holding the gun on him. Salv shoots his guy in the foot. Meech punches his dude in the face, and he’s out cold. Rome and Axel have both taken their guys’ guns and now have them aimed at them. And Ghost has his guy by the neck and lifts him off the ground.
Impersonator Don turns and takes off running. He gets only a few feet away before a bullet hits the ground right in front of him. He tries to sidestep it, but another shot lands at his feet. Soon, gunshots fire at the ground all around him. He screams as he jumps up and down trying to avoid getting shot.
I lift my hand, and the bullets stopped. Slowly, while pulling my gun out of my back holster, I walk over to the counterfeit Don. He is huddled in a ball on the ground, his hands covering his face as he sobs like a baby. His poor fedora is lying in the dirt at his feet. He peeks from behind his hands when I stop in front of him.
“Playtime is over. I allowed you to have your fun, but now I want answers.” I press my gun to his head and the scent of urine fills the air. The poor kid pissed himself.
I look at the puddle of liquid on the ground near his crotch. “If that shit touches my shoes, I’m going to give your dick a second hole.”
“I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry.” He takes the end of his cheap suit jacket and soaks up the urine on the ground.
“Focus,” I say, tapping the gun at his temple. “Who are you?” This dumbass has wasted enough of my time.
“Chris….. Chris Lansky.”
He isn’t even wise enough to give a street name. This kid had no business out here with this bullshit.
“Who do you work for?”
“Nobody. I swear. My guys and I were just trying to make some money.”
I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “How did you get those guns?”
He swallows nervously. “I…. I don’t know.”
“He doesn’t know,” I repeat loud enough for the others to hear.
“What?” Rome chuckles. “The mafia Don doesn’t know?”
The guys all laugh behind me.
“My cousin set this all up. I don’t know where he got them.”
I make a tsking sound. “It feels like you’ve wasted my time. And if you’ve wasted my time, then I have no use for you.” I lift my gun and press it to his temple.
