“Not this time.” She smiled. “I want you to rekindle some of your old friendships. Have a beer, watch a game, whatever. Make some new friends, too. Also, spend some time with your family. Call and check in on your mother. Hang out with your brothers.”
“That’s easy. I get together with my family a couple of times a month. And does my new friend Mr. Barnet count?”
“I suppose, but try to find someone your own age, too.”
He took that as a yes and considered his homework done for the week.
It wasn’t until he left that he realized they hadn’t talked about Jimmy at all. These shrink sessions were weird, but he had to admit he was feeling a little better about everything. He’d laughed more these last couple of weeks, and it felt like he was on the verge of friendship with Adam. That was progress, right? At this point, he’d take whatever he could get.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Go get the beer,” Jose ordered.
“No. You go get the beer. I got it last time,” Sammy whined.
“Shut up! Both of you. I will kill you if I hear another word come out of your stupid, fucking mouths,” Manuel spit out.
Valuing their lives, both men stood and shuffled silently out the door. They knew full well he did not issue idle threats.
Manuel was in a pissy mood. Friday night, and he was stuck here with these losers. Hiding out had become tedious and made him antsy. His “office” in New York was dark and dank and sapped his energy. He needed to get out.
For two months he’d hidden out in this shithole and couldn’t stay a second longer. He had numerous disguises. He would use one and go to dinner at least.
“Let’s go do something,” he said to his remaining cronies. Three men, the size of small semitrucks, looked up from their card game.
“Sure, boss. Where to?” Lonny seemed surprised but would do whatever he demanded.
“Let’s head over to the Bear’s Club, pick up some chicks,and get laid tonight.”
The other two men perked up.
Before shooting Officer Johnson two years ago, Manuel had been a mid-level, mostly unknown drug dealer. After the shooting, everyone knew his name. He’d milked his notoriety and now had a small gang that acted as part bodyguards, part manservants. Too dumb to think for themselves, they just did whatever he told them to do.
After finding out he’d killed the police officer, Manuel fled to New Orleans but told everyone to spread the word he’d gone back to Honduras. He’d hoped the authorities wouldn’t waste time looking for him in the States, and it had worked like a charm. Cops were so dumb.
Shooting the cop. What a rush that had been. He didn’t actually mean to kill the officer—the whole thing was an accident—but when he’d heard what happened, he pretended that was his plan all along and used it to gain street cred. The cop wasn’t the first person he’d killed, and no doubt wouldn’t be the last, but a cop killer was way more badass than a nobody killer.
He came from a family of drug dealers. His uncle was one of the biggest providers of cocaine in Honduras. When Manuel was offered a shot to run New York City, he jumped at the chance. It was a test, and he knew it. He spent every day trying to prove himself. Killing the police officer impressed his family, and they let him keep New York even though his profits were not nearly as high as they should have been. Now that he was back, he’d have to fix that.
New Orleans started out all right, but the novelty had worn off within months, and he was glad to be home. There were enough people in New York City that he should have been able to walk around unnoticed, but he was a free man because he wasn’t stupid. Every time he left the hideout, he covered the birthmark on his face and donned some type of disguise. The hassle was worth it to get out once in a while. He didn’t know how much longer he’d need to bother withit, though.
What had started as an all-out, all-hands-on-deck manhunt for him had dwindled to a wanted poster on the wall at police headquarters. Most everyone had moved on to more recent cases.
The only one left who gave a shit was the cop’s old partner, MacDonald. That guy was turning into a real pain in the ass. Manuel’s “people” often informed him that MacDonald was still working the case, but not through official channels. That didn’t bode well. A police officer willing to skirt the rules couldn’t be good. MacDonald was a loose cannon, and Manuel kept an eye on him the best he could.
Until last week, his man on the inside helped him stay one step ahead of MacDonald, but that idiot had been reassigned. Now Manuel was entirely in the dark about MacDonald’s investigation.
His biggest worry was that one of his own people would betray him. He constantly worked to keep them in line and was always watching for anyone who might be susceptible to a bribe or was just too stupid to keep their mouth shut. So far, his vigilance had paid off. His gang wasn’t the brightest, but that made them easier to control.
In some ways, it was upsetting the search had died down so quickly. Seeing his picture on the news and being described as “armed and dangerous” was a major rush. Having to evade the law made life interesting. He could use a spark now. Life had grown dull. What could put him back in the spotlight? He needed something that would up the game, give him a challenge, and get him out of this hellhole.
That gave him an idea. What if he could kill two birds with one stone? A pre-planned murder wasn’t something he’d done before. Killing was usually a heat of the moment thing for him. But what if he could get MacDonald off his back and also give himself something to think about. It would be complicated and take a lot of thought and planning.Just what he needed.
“Gather ’round, you idiots. I just had a fucking brilliant idea!” he said. The three goons stood and lumbered toward him.
He looked into three sets of expressionless eyes, blinking hard, trying to focus. These three dimwits didn’t have a brain among them. He reconsidered.
“Never mind. I’ll figure it out and let you know.”
