He straightened up, “Some things you just don’t need to know.”
I raised an eyebrow. It was unlike him to not divulge his personal life amongst the crowd, especially since the man never shut up.
“Well, Daryl, it looks like your timeline has decreased. Last chance. Who the fuck ordered the tires?” I pulled the knife closer to his jugular, watching his Adam's apple bob up and down. He wasn’t getting away, and he sure wasn’t walking out of the place alive. He remained silent as B.B. stalked behind him, clamping down on Daryl’s shoulders.
I glided the blade across his skin, pressing along it. “Tick tock.”
He roared but died down to a whimper. “Fine. I’ll tell you.”
I looked back up at B.B. who wasn’t letting loose of his shoulders. “Talk.”
He sniffed, trying to clear the snot that was running from his nose. “I have a name, but it’s not the main boss or whoever.”
“Who.”
“De Santo. A family connected to the mob. I don’t know, man,” he stuttered.
Of course it would be the fucking rumors coming true. The mafia was coming to steal, taking away things they didn’t work for nor deserved.
“What about them?” I pressed the blade further against the skin, barely nicking it.
“Supposedly they came from Boston, trying to expand or something. I don’t know, one of their men came to see me a fewweeks back and offered me bonuses for the work and keeping a low profile.” He began singing like a canary.
I nodded to B.B. as he let go of Daryl and pulled out his phone to pass along the message. While alone with Daryl, I had one last thing to accomplish.
His beady eyes stared into my soul, looking for an ounce of hope that he would be free. I wasn’t granting that freedom.
“I appreciate the information, Daryl.” I started to loosen the blade on his skin. “But one thing about the Saints’, we don’t leave loose ends.”
He started to stutter and with eyes opened wide and a piercing scream that soon was silenced by the swipe of my blade. My eyes burned with the bloodlust, watching the crimson mixture spill along his neck and down his dirty, oil greased clothes. His blood would have made for the perfect shade of red for my paints. I grabbed the rag from across the room and wiped off the blade.
A deep sigh broke me from my thoughts. “You couldn’t have waited?”
“I thought you had somewhere you wanted to be?” I pinned to B.B.
“Yeah, but I wanted to watch.”
“No, you like to play with your food. We’d be here for another fifteen minutes.” I smirked, securing the knife away. I looked back at the lifeless body. “Dead men can’t lie anymore.”
“Hound Dog said to leave him as a warning.”
“As long as Greene takes our name off the reports and everything else, I’d say that’s a mighty good plan.”
A warning, a threat to walk away.
“He said he was reaching out to his brother for help.”
My face twisted in confusion. “How is Memphis supposed to help?”
B.B. crossed his arms, throwing a smirk in my direction. “Apparently his club president may have a lead or a connection.”
“What the fuck is this world coming to?” I muttered, wiping my hands on my jeans. I grabbed my phone, seeing no notifications on my phone, no missed phone calls or messages.
“Why does it look like someone kicked your puppy?” B.B. asked.
I shoved my phone back in my pocket, thinking of my next direction. “Don’t worry about it.”
He sighed. “Fuck me for being a nice guy.” He hung his head. “Just go. I know you have been itching to get out of here.”
