Page 50 of One for the Money

Bear tried to snatch it like he had the letter last night, but I was prepared for that move this time. “Nope, sorry, grumpy Bear, not gonna happen this time,” I said, slapping his hand away.

I slid the knife out of my boot and used it to open the envelope, peering inside just to be sure. Once I was confident this wasn’t going to explode, or it wasn’t filled with some toxic powder, I removed the letter.

I have something you’ve been looking for, but first, you have to play a game with me. Don’t be mad, darling, I know how much you love games. Trust me, this will be fun. Now, all you have to do is follow my clues, complete the task, and get the next envelope.

Clue 1 out of 4: This was the first place you did a deal in this city.

- C xo

“I feel like I should be worried because you’re grinning like that,” Erik commented as he shoved the last bite of his breakfast into his mouth. “So where are we off to?”

Bear slapped the table, making Erik jump. “Not so fast. Why should we trust anything this man says… he’s a con artist. Men who survive by lying never tell the truth.”

Slouching back in my chair, I held the letter up to the sunlight, trying to see if there were any hidden clues that might prove Bear’s point. What I found was a drawing. Squinting, I pulled it closer and let my warm breath hit the paper. The hidden ink became darker, and a cartoon version of a humanoid-looking bear with his arms crossed looking grumpy appeared. There was a little speech bubble just above the Bear’s head. “I’m the only one she needs. Must kill the bird brain.”

This had me laughing so hard, I was almost in tears and nearly fell out of my chair. “I don’t know what this man has in store for me, but fuck, he’s funny. Look, he drew a picture of you.”

Bear snatched the letter out of my hand and tore it up into little shreds before shoving them into his water glass. “You should be more concerned about why he knows about business from two years ago. If he has information like that, what else could he use against you?”

“Look, if he’s going to make handing himself over to me this interesting and fun, who am I to argue? Remember, we’re pretty sure he’s one of the Accardi sneaky sparesie twins. Doing all this doesn’t change the fact that I plan on killing him.”

“What if he’s not?” Erik interjected. “What if he’s a friend of someone pretending to be him? The man’s already proven he’ll make up false trails.”

Jumping to my feet, I struck my best Captain Morgan pose as I put my boot knife back and swept my hair up in a messy bun. “All the more reason we need to get our hands on this asshole. Come on, boys, we’ve got a game to play, and I fully intend to win, no matter what he throws at me.”

Bear grumbled and chugged the rest of his smoothie before getting up from the table. “Are we going to get the car?”

“Nah, let’s take the bikes,” I decided. “We don’t know where this is going to take us, and I’d rather have the faster escape. Cars are so limited on where they can go, needing a road and all.”

“Ah… does that mean you have an extra bike for me?” Erik asked.

Shoving open the café door, I grinned over my shoulder. “Why? Didn’t you know betas ride bitch?”

Instead of looking upset at my answer, his face lit up. “Hell yeah, that means I get to wrap myself around you.”

For a man who understood the darkness of living with PTSD, he certainly knew how to find the silver lining. I couldn’t decide if I liked that about him or not.

Heading back to the old meat-packing plant, instead of going up the elevator, I steered for the side entrance. It had a ramp for loading and unloading meat into trucks and two docks next to it for semitruck shipments. Punching in the code, the garage door started to open, revealing the warehouse that wasn’t as abandoned as people assumed it was.

“Holy shit,” Erik gasped, seeing the various crates of goods stacked in neat rows.

One crate had the lid pried open and askew so you could see the guns packed in straw. This was one of my satellite storehouses to make the distribution of goods up north easier. The Wurst brothers kept an eye on the building when my workers were off making deliveries.

“Bear, can you fix that crate?” I asked, pulling out my phone. “Fucking idiots leaving shit like that out in the open. Don’t they know it takes one curious idiot to stick their nose in our business, and we end up with a raid?”

“Hello?” a nervous voice answered.

“Ion, can you tell me why I’m standing in the packing plant, and I see a motherfucking crate of AKs with the lid off for anyone to find?” I snapped.

Ion once worked out of my headquarters at the winery, but we needed a new point person to run things here. Ballio felt he’d be a good fit, and since I didn’t have the time to worry about personnel, I gave the man a shot. Right now, I’m thinking maybe Ballio was mistaken, and we’d need to find a new manager as soon as I could get my hands on Ion.

“Boss,” Ion called out as he walked through the open door, hanging up the call. When he saw Bear closing up the crate, the blood drained from his face as he turned to look at me. “I-I…” Ion paused, licked his lips, and tried again. “I don’t know how that happened, but I take full responsibility.”

“Damn right, you better take fucking responsibility,” I growled out, charged up to him, grabbed a fist full of his shirt, and yanked. “Do you know how badly you fucked up?”

Ion didn’t speak. He just nodded like he was a bobblehead in a tornado.

“So what are you going to do to fix it?” I demanded.