He walks behind me and snorts. They wear jeans and sweatshirts that look as though they haven’t been washed in days. One of them has scabs on his face, the tell-tale sign of someone addicted to Venom Dust.
“Ryan’s guys drive SUVs and probably don’t own a sweatshirt,” Capone says.
“Something isn’t right,” I say, standing to walk into the room where the three men sit with their hands and feet bound.
Ryan would never talk to these guys. He wouldn’t have any of his guys talk to them, either.
“What the fuck do you want?” the leader asks with a thick Mexican accent.
Capone and I exchange looks. Our families are particular with who they work with. These guys are not in that spectrum.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“We were hired by a guy.”
“Who was the guy?”
Snapping his mouth closed, he glares at me with a smirk that I want to punch. He just shrugs as he continues tofidget.
“You three are gonna die, so you might as well come clean. The longer it takes for you to tell us the truth, the longer it takes for you to die,” Capone says.
Zep walks up and mutters, “You really don’t think this is what it looks like, P?”
“They’re dressed in dirty casual clothes, so they’re not Italian. Plus, they’re junkies. This is not Ryan’s typical men for hire,” I say.
“You work for Ryan Vega?” Capone asks the skinniest one.
“Don’t say a fucking word, Grande,” the leader snaps.
Grande. He weighs a buck fifteen, if that. Cute.
“Yeah, we work for him,” Grande says.
“What the fuck?”
“Look, if I’m gonna die, I want it to be quick. You guys do what the fuck you want,” he says.
Something about this still doesn’t make sense. “How long have you worked for him?”
“I don’t know, man,” Grande says and shrugs. “Like, a little while.”
“Like, a little while?” Capone asks. “Guess. How long is alittle whileto you?”
“Leave him alone, man,” the middle guy says, fighting against his restraints. “It’s been a short while, okay?”
“See, that’s the problem. What we think is a short while may not be so short to you, so let’s try to narrow this down a bit.”
Buzzing from the office echoes in the quiet hallway, and I should be annoyed. If it’s Scotty, he knows I’m busy. But it wouldn’t be Scotty.
“A couple weeks or so,” he says.
This doesn’t feel right. It’s all wrong. Even though the attack on Phoebe at the bakery was sloppy, this is beyond that. This isjust… stupid. Employing junkies is always a mistake. Especially junkies hooked on Venom Dust.
“You work with Butch Ballard?” I ask.
“Work with him? Nah, man, that guy’s crazy,” Grande says, running his nose on his shoulder. “We just like his product.”
“Yeah, we can see that,” Zep says.
