Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Matti’s grandfather was revered in organized crime, but his dad went on to become a district attorney. I’d seen some shit in my life, but not even I could wrap my head around how his son ended up working with me. They did several things for us, from driving to security to this. Where I was now with my businesses, I didn’t need to be out here at all, but once in a while, for the right cause, I felt the urge to get my hands a little dirty. This was the second time I was sitting in a car with one of these clowns this week.
“Maybe you need to get laid, Roc. Get rid of the pent-up tension in a healthier way.”
“Mind your business.” I glared at Mattia.
“Serious question,” he said. I took a breath to reign in my annoyance. “Do you ever lose control and stab one of these people a million times?”
“No.”
“No?” He sounded surprised.
“In the beginning, sure. Overseas, I’d lose my shit all the time.”
“Why not anymore?”
“I pride myself in maintaining control of my emotions. It’s what separates me from the Mattias of the world, who want to start a bar fight every time he has one drink.”
He scowled. “I don’t do that.”
“You’re young. You’re allowed to do that.” I shrugged.
“Do you have nightmares of the shit you did overseas?”
This fucking kid was really starting to get on my nerves with his questions, but I’d just told him I controlled my emotions, so if I snapped, he’d have something on me, and that was never going to happen. Besides, it was a fair question.
“Not anymore,” I said. “I don’t dream at all.”
“Really?” His brows hitched. “My boy Connor just got back. He’s Navy. He’s really fucked up from being in a submarine for nine months. He can’t stop having nightmares. He can’t even look at the ocean.”
“Tell him to go see a therapist.”
Matti laughed. “You’re joking.”
I glanced at him. “I’m not.”
“You go to therapy?”
“This is my therapy.”
“Torturing people?” His voice hitched, and I bit back a laugh.
“Yep, so shut the fuck up and focus before I add you to my list.”
He sat up in his seat, eyes widening. He was quiet for ten seconds before he broke the silence. That was the thing about him. He never shut up. “I still think you should get laid.”
I glared at him. “You’re starting to piss me off. You know that?”
“I’m your favorite.” He grinned. “Admit it, you’d rather come out with me than Nico.”
If I saw this kid on the street, I’d think he was a fucking pretty rich boy with the way he dressed and looked. Most of the time, he dressed like he was going to Easter mass, with khakis, polos, and shit. I’d joked with him that one of these days, I would try out the look and see if it worked for me.
“Fine. For the sake of honesty,” I said, looking over at him. “I’d rather you both fuck off.”
“Shut up.” He laughed. “You love us.”
“Focus, Matti.” I leaned forward in my seat, and he did the same.
“I don’t even know what I’m looking for.” He paused. “Or who.”
“You don’t know Wally Baker?”
“The guy who burned down the bodega on 79th?” He frowned. “Isn’t he in jail?”
“He’s out.”
“Didn’t he rape someone?” His frown deepened.
“Yeah, his daughter.”
His face scrunched up. “What a sick fuck.”
“I know.”
“Why the fuck would they let him walk?” Matti asked quietly, and I knew he would call his father to ask him the same question.
“That’s our justice system for you.” I shrugged.
“So you’re gonna torture him because he raped his daughter?”
“I’m gonna torture him because he still owes me a grand, and I’m still pissed that he stole a bottle of Pappy from the shipment he drove from Kentucky a year ago.”
I drummed my thumbs on the steering wheel. “And I’m gonna kill him because he raped his daughter.”
He let out a whistle. “Who pissed in your Cheerios?”
“Your mom.”
“Fuck you, man, that’s not funny.” He scowled.
“Why? Because I fucked her?”
“You’re disgusting.”
I smirked. I hadn’t fucked his mom, and I never would, but she was newly divorced and openly flirted with me in front of him a few times, so I had fun with him about it. She was hot and all, but that shit complicates things, and I respected Mattia. I’d probably never admit it to him, but I respected him. He was a good kid. An idiot sometimes, but still a good kid. And he was loyal, which was rare these days.
I squinted and spotted Wally walking out of a tavern. “Let’s go.”
We locked the car and walked over, looking around to make sure no one was watching us. I didn’t care if random people on the street saw us. They’d never be able to identify us. It was early afternoon, so they’d have a clear view, but people had faulty memories. Tonight, they saw a red car; tomorrow, it was purple; and the next day, it could've been yellow. Besides, in this part of town, you could kill a man in front of an audience, and no one would say shit. What I cared about were the petty drug dealers around here who would no doubt tell their bosses that they saw me. That could very well start a problem. Most of them knew we were “going legit.” They also knew that was kind of bullshit. We didn’t fuck with drugs anymore, though, so they had nothing to worry about. We’d never been in the drug game, but ever since the fentanyl bullshit, we vowed to steer clear. No one wanted to be responsible for the death of a college kid or finance bro.