“We said,” I seethe, talking so close to this asshole’s face that I knock the cowboy hat off his head with mine, “that deal was over. Concluded, all in. No loose ends. You got seller’s regret, that’s your problem.”
I look around, curious why there are no other Hellfires here. “What’d you do?” I demand. “Think you were gonna shake us down for a couple of extra Gs?”
Just then, the diner doors open, and we hear the clack of heels clomping toward us.
Phantom makes the call. “No witnesses,” he says. I open the back door of my truck, and Phantom shoves Mad Dog in. Shadow gets in the other side, so both my brothers are flanking Mad Dog. Then I get behind the wheel, and we take off. I make sure I run that fucking skanky cowboy hat under my wheels as we leave.
“Where to?” I ask.
“I didn’t know the fucking Heat were running a car service. Times must be tough for you boys.” Mad Dog’s gaining his breath back, but I’ll bet I busted a few ribs. I can tell from the strain in his voice he’s hurting deep.
“Shut your mouth unless you plan to explain.”Shadow’s about to lose his cool. His eyes are bugged wide open, and his nostrils are flaring. “What the fuck do you have to do with this deal?”
“There ain’t no deal,” Mad Dog says. I look in the rearview mirror and see Phantom and Shadow exchange looks.
“That’s bullshit,” Shadow snaps. “I’ve been working this for months. The salons are legit. Marybeth is the owner. She’s eyeballs deep in debt.”
“When I’m not balls deep fucking her,” Mad Dog drawls. “You think it’s that hard to sell a woman-in-distress story to you assholes?” He laughs. “Fuck all y’all.”
Then it hits me, and I think it hits Shadow too at the same time. Mad Dog set us up. A long play for a little bit of cash. The problem is not just that he almost scammed us out of ten grand—now he knows we’re trying to go legit. That we’ve got our eyes on other ways to make clean money and wash the dirty shit.
Maybe this wasn’t about Claire at all. Maybe this was about nothing more than spying on the competition, Hellfires-style. Whatever it is, he didn’t get our money, but he’s wasted months of Shadow’s time and made us look like fools.
“What’re we gonna do with him?” Phantom asks.
And I know what he’s asking. Last year, Phantom had to make a tough call. Whether to snuff out a prospect who betrayed us. Lied to us. Played Phantom and all the rest of us for fools. It would have been so easy to put a bullet in the kid’s head and push his bikeinto the ocean. But Phantom was the one to make the call.
We get our hands dirty, but there’s some blood that can never be washed off. Murder’s a business we’ve been able to stay clear of. At least so far.
Phantom looks to me. “Savage?”
I feel bad making the call, but I know if we leave Mad Dog alive, that’s a loose end for Claire. If we take him out now, Marybeth would only have to make one phone call to the cops and Shadow’s face would be on every wanted poster in the Sunshine State.
“Get his phone,” I say. Phantom and Shadow work their way through his pockets, and Shadow holds the knife to Mad Dog’s throat until he reluctantly unlocks the phone.
“Send Marybeth a text,” I say, heading the truck toward Port Tampa Bay. Mad Dog grunts and looks fearful for the first time since he kicked out my knee. Only now is the adrenaline starting to wear off and I can feel the deep ache. I’ll be lucky if I can walk tomorrow. “Tell your bitch that you’re safe and you got the money. That you’re going underground for a while and you’ll be in touch.”
He tries to yank his phone away from Phantom, but Phantom tut-tuts at him, while Shadow traces the tip of the knife along the asshole’s Adam’s apple. “Go on,” Shadow seethes. “You think I’m afraid of cleaning what’ll be left of you off these seats? Try me.”
Mad Dog grunts, and Phantom watches as he texts exactly what I told him to say. Then he clicks send. “Now what, motherfuckers?” Mad Dog’s got balls, I’ll give him that.
“You willing to spend some of that cash to buy us a short-term solution?” I meet Phantom’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
He’s my brother, so I expect him to have my back. He doesn’t surprise me.
“Count out five Gs,” I tell Shadow. “This asshat’s going on a boat ride.”
Three hours later, we’re out five grand, but one of our contacts at the port was happy to take the envelope of cash as payment for transporting a passenger on a cargo ship.
We ran over his phone with the truck and tossed the pieces, along with his knife, into the Gulf, then wished Mad Dog a happy trip and left him to his two-week journey overseas. Assuming he can figure out a way back—and afford the trip—we won’t have to worry about Mad Dog for, by my estimate, a solid month or two. If this little stunt isn’t enough to teach him not to mess with the Heat, I’ll be ready when he’s back in town.
“We’re gonna need to find another arms dealer,” Phantom says when we get back to the diner. “Can’t say that bothers me much.”
I shake my head. “Who knows. Those assholes ain’t like us. Without Anthony and Mad Dog beating sense into the crew, they might fall apart in the time it takes Mad Dog to find his way back to the States. Some of them might even try to prospect for us.”
Phantom shakes his head, then claps a hand on Shadow’s shoulder. “Shit happens,” he says. “Let it go.”
Shadow’s face is dark, and I know he’s questioning every minute of every conversation he had with Marybeth. What he missed. How he missed it. We’ll have to debrief later and figure out what our next moves are, but fuck. We lost five grand and got rid of a little problem we didn’t even know we had.
