The rush. The late-night driving around sketchy areas…
The fear in their eyes, and the blood on my hands.
So, when an opportunity presents itself to get back to my roots, you bet your sweet self I have no problem taking it.
It also keeps my people on their toes… Knowing I could show up at any moment.
This, however, is an odd situation, which becomes even stranger when we show up at the Ikea in Red Hook. It’s adjacent to a warehouse I just so happen to own—not a coincidence, but also not something my foot soldiers know about.
The dealers are basically worker bees. They work for me, but we really don’t associate much. I know everything I need to know about them, and they know nothing about me other than my name—not my real name, obviously—and that their prime objective in life should be not pissing me off.
The warehouse is where pick-ups happen on occasion, but these two peons, who are apparently missing in action, work exclusively in Staten Island and parts of Jersey. What they’redoing here in the first place is a mystery—well, not really. I’m sure I can guess.
It’s also peculiar that they’re suddenly not answering their phones, or showing any activity. Though again, if I were toguesswhat happened…
Stepping out of the car, I glance around. The parking lot is quiet, because it’s almost midnight. I place a call to Kent—my personal security. He’s pretty much my right-hand man. Technically lower on the food chain than people like Max and Mateo, simply because he started as my driver.And yet he gives me a hell of a lot less grief than those other knuckleheads.
He also happens to be an encyclopedia of knowledge on every able body who works in our organization. Either the guy has an eidetic memory, or he’s really good at memorization. Regardless, it’s impressive as hell.
Theseare the types of skills I need in running my new island compound.
“Sir,” Kent answers, gruffly—as usual.
It pleases me that he’s never shown so much as a teaspoon of emotion.
“What kind of car does Jose drive?” I ask.
“Jose from Newark? Or Jose the guy who capped Manny in Boca Raton that time?”
My lips curve.See what I mean?
“Newark.”
“A black BMW M3,” he says, without a moment’s hesitation. “2011. Black rims with red calipers.”
Tilting my face right, I find the exact car he’s describing, parked across the way, at the entrance of the warehouse drive.
My smile grows. “Thank you, cariño.”
Hanging up, I open the door of the SUV and grab my .45, tucking it into my belt behind my back. My phone is popping offwith response texts and calls, so I turn theDo Not Disturbon.Make ‘em sweat it out for a bit.
As I set off walking, my driver rolls his window down.
“Nice night for a stroll,” I tell him with a wink.
He nods. No further instruction needed.
I’ve been at this a while, and because of that, my process is set up in such a way that requires very little micromanaging. For the most part, everyone knows their place, and they fully understand the plans in place for what we do. So me wandering alone toward the scene of something potentially shady is nothing new, or surprising.
I’m never alone.If it looks that way, then my security is doing its job.
Walking down the sparsely lit gravel road that connects the Ikea parking lot to the delivery entrance of my warehouse, however, I am considering how there are never any sure things in this business. Nothing is foolproof, because there are fools all around us, and unfortunately, they’re usually skilled in their ability to fuck shit up.
Prime example: whatever is going on with the Tweedledee and Tweedledum dealers. I have some guesses, and when I pass Jose’s BMW, and spot the butt of his pistol under the seat through the window, I’m feeling even more confident as to what I’m about to find.
Jose and his pal, dead. From something foolish they decided to do, because they’re fools, and even the best business isn’t impervious to it.
And not that I care to avenge the deaths of two meaningless insects in my operation, but I would like to find out what happened so I can ensure it doesn’t happen again.Or that it isn’t part of a bigger problem.
