Vespiano “The Shark” Infante. Head of Security.
“Alice,” he said, around smoke. “You brought your whole circus.”
“It’s Blackjack to you,” I corrected. “And this is the stripped-down version.”
His gaze slid over my men. Lingering on patches. On hands. On waists.
“Roman says no steel past this point,” Vespiano said. “House rules. You know how it is.”
He already knew we knew how it was. Just decided to bring it up like the prick I knew him to be.
I nodded once. No point in arguing. We’d kept it light on purpose. Coming in here with rifles would have sent a different message than we wanted. Besides, this isn’t the Wild West. Open carry isn’t permitted in this state. We always have to keep them hidden.
“Guns,” I said to my men.
Spade went first. He pulled his pistol,butt-first toward Vespiano, then another from the small of his back. Mirage followed, then Ace, then Snake Eyes. I handed mine over last. For a second, Vespiano weighed it in his hand like he was considering keeping it as a souvenir. Then he gestured to one of his men, who stepped forward with a black case.
All six pistols dropped into the foam with dull thuds.
Vespiano snapped the case closed. “You’re naked now,” he said, amused.
“Only if you think that’s all we brought,” I said.
He grinned. “Roman said to keep it respectful. So that’s it. No frisking. No hands in your pockets. You can thank him later.”
“I’ll do that,” I said. “I get twitchy when men start feeling me up for free.”
A couple of his guys smiled before they could stop themselves. Vespiano shook his head and thumbed the elevator call.
The doors slid open. Interior gleamed steel and glass.
“Top floor,” he said. “I’ll meet you up there.”
“You planning on beating us there through the vents?” Snake Eyes muttered behind me.
Vespiano’s grin sharpened. “Don’t worry about how I move. Just be grateful I let you.”
I stepped into the elevator. The others followed. The door slid shut, locking us in.
No guards. No guns. No witnesses.
“Man,” Mirage said, low. “If I wanted to kill fivebikers without making a mess, this would be my chance to do it. Cut the cables. Done.”
“Yeah,” Snake Eyes added. “Or just rig the brakes to let go somewhere around floor ten. Bet the view’s great on the way down.”
“Nut up and shut up,” I said.
They did. Mostly.
I pressed my back to the wall and faced the doors. You could feel the car start to rise, smooth and silent.
If this was a setup, they’d do it clean. Door opens, guns already up, five bullets center mass, maybe one mercy headshot each. No yelling. No speeches.
Roman liked order. If he decided we were a problem, we’d die in a way that didn’t stain his carpet.
I’d told Liberty, 8-Ball, Jersey and Turnpike if they didn’t hear from me within an hour, they’d treat it like I hadn’t walked back out.
I wasn’t in a hurry to cash that plan in.
