“Ms. Burch,of course.”
I typed an email to Ricco, who was keeping watch over her, with instructions and the exact wording of the message she needed to deliver. Lower Haight was only a few San Francisco neighborhoods away from her, nothing she couldn’t manage on foot.
“Are you serious? After that whole shit show about keeping her alive?”
“We have a truce with the Greeks, but they won’t take it lightly if one of our own steps into one of their places. She’s neutral. She goes in, drops off our notice to Dimakos, and leaves. That’s it. It’ll buy us some time at the very least.”
He grunted a groan. “I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to.”
I thumbed into our text thread, snorting at her bravery. Her contact name:Piccola peste. Little pest. This girl at fifteen had more balls than some of my capos. Where they were all talk, she was all bark—a blatant sign of her immaturity. The girl acted out to hide her vulnerabilities, and I fully intended to capitalize on them.
Payment starts now. Ricco will be in touch.
You owe me a debt. Not the other way around.
Nonnegotiable, Ms. Burch. Arson doesn’t lie.
If you hadn’t killed my brother, your car wouldn’t have been burned.
As far as I’m concerned, that doesn’t even begin to cover YOUR debt.
Continue to argue, and I’ll add interest to what you owe that’ll extend to your fostersiblings.
You’re an asshole.
Learn to do what you’re told. Watch your mouth. And act with civility.
If you can manage that, you’ll be just fine.
I hate you. Hope you rot in your own shit.
You have five days after Ricco makes contact.
Three days later
“Has she made the drop yet?”
“Yes,” Ricco spat out.
The venom in that one word from this kid pulled me from the contract I was annotating. I leaned back in my chair, one arm crossed, twirling my pen. With each passing week under my tutelage, the Nerin kid toughened up. Already, the mandatory workouts were firming up his build and straightening his posture.
“How was it?”
“Fine,” he gritted.
I set my pen down. “Just fine?”
“Yes, sir.” He practically broke a tooth biting that out.
“Watch your tone. Breathe through your anger, focus it into something else, but never openly show it unless you want it used against you.”
That advice was what saved my life a number of times against my father.
“It’s not that, boss.”
“Oh?”
