“I’d appreciate it. Stop giving me shit. I work better without pressure, yeah?”
“I know it.” He knocks his forehead against mine. “Nowlet’s get in here and get this deal done. I need to see that you can handle the hard shit.”
“The Reyes family doesn’t like me.”
He waves me away. “Do you blame them? You threatened to shoot Junior the last time we all met.”
“I was being cautious. Watching your back.”
Carter grunts and gets out of the car. Two Reyes men walk over to us and pat us down. I show them my gun and they eye me, but Juan calls them off.
“They’re good.” He walks over and claps hands with Carter. “How is everything?”
“Good. Thanks for agreeing to let Declan tag along.” He inclines his head toward me, and I greet Juan with a nod of my head. “He’ll manage deliveries from now on.”
Juan glances over at me. “Think you can handle it, baby Whitlock?”
Instead of bristling at the nickname, my brain immediately switches gears to Nico calling me young Whitlock. What the fuck?
Carter grunts. “Don’t call him that. He’s not living in my shoes; he’s walking in his own. His name is Declan.”
Warmth spreads through me at Carter taking up for me instead of letting that ride. I’ll never tell him, but I appreciate it more than he’ll ever know.
Juan inclines his head. “Declan, it is. Let’s step inside and take care of business.”
Our men come over with two crates between them, walking past us to the interior of the warehouse. We follow behind them, making sure no one tries to run up on us. After the shit with the Fensters—almost blowing Carter and Gavin up when they did a drug run—we can’t be too careful. Reyes men bring up the rear and we step inside and I handle my first solo gun sale.
CHAPTER 7
DECLAN
I’ve taken to walking the floor every day to clear my head. It doesn’t do to be cooped up in my office all day, especially when I have an employee to scare.
Something about Jadon rubs me the wrong way. Every day he’s on shift, I make it my business to walk past the cages at random times so he can never nail down a schedule. He’s always lounging until he sees me, then he snaps to attention.
Yeah, something is definitely going on with that guy.
“Mr. Whitlock,” one of the servers says before I can walk toward the cash cages. She rushes over as fast as her heels will allow. “Some guy left this for you. Said it’s important that you get it right away.”
Austin and his lackey, Donny, step closer to me, flanking me as the server gives me a letter from a courier service.
An eyebrow raised, I ask, “Who left it?”
She turns around and points to the bar, but there’s no one but a few women siting around.
“Huh,” she says, both looking and sounding confused. “He was there just a minute ago. Said he was going to wait until you got it.”
“Thanks,” I whisper and she sashays away.
“Want me to open it, boss?” Austin asks.
I glare at him. “You think I don’t know how to open a fucking envelope?”
He looks ashamed and steps back. “No, sir. Sorry.”
Scoffing, I walk in the direction of the cages as I rip the letter open. I pull out the sheet of paper with a message typed in bold font across the middle.
YOU’LL PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID.
