Wayne stares at me like he’s deciding whether to believe that before sighing. “Don’t start asking questions.”
“I’m not asking questions.”
“You’re about to.”
“I’m not.”
“Rae.”
“Okay maybe one question.”
Wayne groans. “Jesus Christ.”
I lean forward on the counter. “Has anyone else had problems with this Voss guy?”
Wayne freezes for a second.
Then he gives me a look.
“Rae.”
“I’m just curious.”
“You’re never just curious.”
I lift a shoulder. “Still.”
He rubs a hand across his jaw before answering. “I’ve heard things.”
My stomach tightens. “What things?”
“Other places,” he says reluctantly. “Small businesses. Bars mostly. A couple shops.”
“They paid him?”
Wayne doesn’t answer right away.
Which tells me everything.
My fingers curl around the edge of the counter. “You’re kidding.”
“No.”
“And nobody did anything about it?”
“What were they supposed to do?” Wayne asks. “Most of them can barely stay open as it is.”
Anger burns hot in my chest.
“So they just handed him money.”
“Some did.”
“And the ones who didn’t?”
Wayne exhales slowly.
“They got hit harder.”
