Popeye pulls up a stool in front of me and props his empty glass and bottle of scotch between us.
“What’s with the Crocodile Dundee knife?” I ask.
“Fallen brother. Deacon,” Popeye explains as he pours himself a hefty glass. “May God have mercy on his soul.” He toasts then drinks.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“No bother,” Popeye waves me off. “It’s just there as a reminder. So no one ever forgets.”
“A memorial of sorts. That’s . . .nice.”
“Sure.” He takes another sip.“Nice.Now, what else do you want to know? What’s a cut, right?”
“To start.” I suck down my own sugary cocktail. Popeye can sure mix them.Whoa.
Popeye begins to explain what a cut is when I hear someone call my name over the hum of the crowd.
“Is there a Kira Kendrick here?” A loud voice yells. The entire places zeroes in on the strange man standing in the middle of the room holding a Tiffany-blue box.
“Who the fuck wants to know?” I recognize Ky’s low timbre immediately.
“Nobody in particular. I just have a delivery for her.”
Ky emerges from the back of the bar, flanked by all his men. He peers menacingly at the man dressed in a black hoodie and baseball cap.
“Who’s it from?” He crosses his arms, his biceps bulging, strangling the cotton of his short-sleeve shirt.
“No idea. Some guy gave me fifty bucks to walk it in here.”
“What’d the guy look like?” Hawk steps forward and takes the perfectly wrapped box.
“Some African-American dude. Real nice, actually. Said please and everything.”
“Did he now?” Panty Peeker snarls. He’s definitely the most intimidating of the bunch. There is just something so dark and ominous about him with his leather jacket, gages in his earlobes, and slicked-back hair.
“Take it in the back,” Ky instructs Hawk. “You, get the fuck outta here. And the next time someone asks you to deliver a package, say no.”
“Or go get a job with FedEx,” Breaker tosses in.
Vet, Breaker, and Panty Peeker stand shoulder to shoulder like a wall of muscle in front of Ky until the man leaves.
“Follow him,” Ky barks an order, and all three of them stride to the door. My anxiety has spiked tenfold in four short minutes.
“Snow.” Ky takes my hand and leads me away from the bar. There’s a private card room in the back of the bar Several poker tables are scattered around the space, and a full bar is situated in the corner.
“You guys take cards seriously.”
“It was bred into us. Courtesy of your stepfather.” Ky glares down at the box sitting on one of the tables.
“It looks just like the other one,” Hawk makes an observation.
“Other one?” I look at Ky.
He rubs the back of his neck restlessly. “Show her.”
Hawk retrieves a similar-looking box from the back of the bar. He opens it so I can see the contents.
“Holy shit.” I cover my mouth with both hands, then reach in and pull out a lock of hair with a white ribbon tied around it. “This is mine.” A chill races down my spine.
