Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 97951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Fred was mad as hell. He blames me for what happened to his boy. Seems word got back fast that Lennox was on some revenge kick for the visit to his paramour. It happened just like Lennox said it would. Lenny, you sure dropped a bomb on me, didn’t ya? Threatening to tell everything to the FBI—even with knowing the risks it would do to innocent bystanders. You had me with a few lady visitors in the throes of passion.” He shrugged. “I looked pretty good on that there footage, if I say so myself, but it sure ain’t something I want making the rounds.
“Then you added a lil’ prize, a little razzle dazzle, by throwing Sam in the mix right there at the end. Like a cherry on top. On second thought, I can’t say I blame you. If someone had done what he’d done to my woman, I’d be mighty ticked off about it, too.” He grimaced as he stared at the carving, thinking it all through. “I think stringing him up half-naked while Kage shot at a target above his head was a bit much though. Lettin’ that snake latch on to his nipple wasn’t right, either. Not to mention all the other things that happened… Sam ain’t been right in the head since.
“…Well, grandson, I won’t lie. You’ve got a good one there, Lennox. She’s pretty as a peach. More importantly, she seems to love you somethin’ serious. That woman turned down her own safety, loads of money, and her schoolin’ paid in full, all to be loyal to you. I don’t believe most women would’ve done the same. ’Specially with a gun in their face. You go on and live your life, but if you give me any excuse, any at all to come back… I’ll be after you so fast it’ll make your head spin. I’m focused on the future. I got bigger fish to fry. Now, I’ll just concentrate on the others. I think I’ll live over a hundred years.
“So, I’ve got the time… Next on the list is that piece of shit, Roman. I’ve decided I’m going to start puttin’ the pressure on his shifty ass. ’Specially as seeing that he teamed up with Lennox to do his dirty work. Roman, Roman, Roman… my smart-ass grandson with a flip mouth. Always been the kind to talk back and crack a joke at the wrong damn time. Think you’re so fuckin’ witty and smart, don’t you? You’re a walkin’ contradiction. Women call you beautiful, with your tall height, slender yet muscular frame, naturally sun-kissed skin and blue-black hair, like a raven’s feathers. I bet that’s from the Indian in our family. I believe my Papi, God rest his soul, said it’s from way, way, back… a great-great-grandmother of mine. Comanche tribe, they say. Pops up every now and again in the gene pool. All those good looks don’t mean much, boy, because they can’t save you from me. You’re a charlatan down to your black little core.
“A sick and twisted genius with ways of earning bookoo money. But you’re flawed… The black sheep of the Wilde family. Group homes. Foster homes. You’re a devious motherfucker, too, and you don’t seem to care much about your reputation. Will do anything for the finer things in life. You’ve got the heart of a thief, and you’re soulless. I say, why not put it to good use?” He snickered. “Told me you are walking the straight and narrow now. Horse shit! You’ve been a fucking problem since the day you were born. Your childhood was a shit show. Your father made some mistakes, and your mother isn’t too bright. Blood or not, I never wanted your daddy as a member of the business. He didn’t have what it takes. You, though… you’re top notch. I get it, you know? How you ended up so messed up in the head. But you’re still a rotten egg, and you know it.
“You would’ve been rotten if you came from the ‘Leave it to Beaver’s’ family. Wouldn’t have made no bit of difference more than likely. You were a terrible person, and an awful Marine. But you are one hell of a gambler, bluffer, and investor. I heard you can fight, too… got a bit of trainin’ under your belt from your stint in the armed forces. All of that could work to my advantage. A nice face to lure motherfuckers in, then… BOOM! Gotcha!” He cackled. “You’re going to be mine, Roman… One got away, but the next one I’m taking home and puttin’ on a shelf.”
He looked at the statue he carved, turning it to and fro. Proud of his handiwork. It was a Christian cross. A beautiful, crudely carved crucifix. It would look nice on a tombstone.
He began to sing. “At the cross… at the cross. Where I first, saw the light! And my buuuurdens, of my heart, rooooolled, awaaaaay! It was there, by, faith, I reeeeceived my sight, And now, I am haaaappy, all the daaay!” He continued singing the old gospel hymn, tapping his foot against the floor. “…And now, for my next song, which is dedicated to my grandson, Roman Wilde. A big ol’ fuck-up, who so desperately needs his grand-papi to step in and show him the ropes…” He shook his head as anger rolled like the tide within him. “Black sheep, black sheep, have you any wool? Yes, sir, yes, sir, three money-bags full. One for my grandpa, one to keep me fed, one for my funeral, should I end up dead…”