“Okay, okay.” He puts his palms up in a placating manner, and I consider grabbing his hands and breaking each one of his fingers. When he doesn’t say anything, I fist his collar tight enough it almost chokes him as I push him against the wall.
“Logan…”
“Fuck! Okay. Look, just hear me out, all right?” I let go of his collar, slightly backing up so I can look him in the eyes. He bends over, coughing lightly.
“Stand the fuck up and talk,” I demand.
“Luis noticed people were looking for…a pick-me-up on fight nights. As you know, his brother sells, so he came to me and offered us a cut if we let him sell on fight nights. On an average night, we bring in five figures easily.”
“What sort of pick-me-up?” I ask, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it with my own ears. Luis is one of my bouncers underground, and his brother is one of the biggest drug dealers in Atlantic City.
“X.”
“You’re selling ecstasy in my fucking club. Anything else?”
“Coke.”Jesus fuck.
I give him a pointed look, wondering how the fuck I didn’t notice this was happening under my roof, and realizing I’ve put way too much trust in Logan. “And what does the cop have to do with this?”
“He found out and started demanding a cut in order to turn a blind eye.”
I shake my head, not believing the shit he’s telling me. “You risked my fucking club over five figures? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Money’s money.”
“Says the guy with nothing at stake. You know damn well why I don’t fuck with drugs.”
Logan blanches. “I didn’t think about that. It’s been, what? Ten years?”
“Twelve, and I don’t give a shit if it’s been twenty years. We don’t deal drugs, ever.” Not even my father deals anymore. He knows it’s a hard limit for me—and why—and respects it. Weapons, alcohol, gambling, money laundering—I’ll handle anything else he needs me to handle, but I’ll never touch drugs again.
“I didn’t think you would care as long as you weren’t the one dealing.”
“Bullshit, Logan. That’s why you hid it from me.”
Walking around my desk, I grab my cigars and phone from the drawer.
“Where you going?” Logan asks nervously.
“I’m going to handle the fucking cop. I can’t let it get out that he owes me two hundred fucking grand, and I’m sure as fuck not going to let him get away with blackmailing me.” Logan’s eyes bug the fuck out, telling me there’s something else he’s hiding.
“I’ll handle it,” he offers. “It’s my shit.”
“Okay.” I nod in agreement. “But I’m going with you.”
Logan opens his mouth to argue but thinks better of it. “All right.”
We jump into my Nissan GT-R and head over to Stephen’s place. I’ve never visited the cop myself, so Logan gives me directions that lead us to a decent apartment complex just outside of Atlantic City.
When I park in a spot near his building, Logan says, “Let me go in first and talk to him. I think I’ll have a better chance of convincing him to drop the threats and work out a payment deal if it’s just me.”
Getting out of my car, I slam the door shut and light a cigar. “I’m giving you five minutes to talk to him, then I’m going to handle this bullshit myself.” He already said the guy’s broke, so I know damn well he’s not getting money from him, but I’ll give him his five minutes and then I’ll find out what else he’s hiding.
Logan heads toward the building to the cop’s door. I watch him knock, and then knock again. A good minute or so later the door opens and then Logan enters the apartment, closing the door behind him. It’s in the sixties today, so I find a sunny area near the buildingto smoke.
It can’t be more than five minutes later when I hear yelling coming from the apartment. It’s becoming evident Logan isn’t handling business properly. After I deal with the cop, I’m going to have to reassess Logan’s position in my business. Hiding shit from me is a huge damn red flag and I would be a fool to ignore it.
The door opens and Logan steps outside. He closes the door behind him and locks eyes with me, but doesn’t walk toward me.Okay…I guess I’m going to have to handle this shit.
